Robbery in Progress

Bait Sandwiches, our Specialty

Shopping at a convenience store can sometimes bring drama. This is a true story told to me by the person involved written from his point of view. © Peg Cole.

"The management of the disk duplication company where I worked was doing their best to make me quit," he paused for a moment of reflection as he told the story. 

"All the signs were crystal clear with their cruel tactics of isolation and denigration, but their latest effort was the one that nearly got me killed." He scratched his head and continued.

"Things at work seemed like an ongoing battle between the old school faction and the young entrepreneurs who owned the business. They wanted us to believe that they knew it all. You couldn't tell them anything. That was just they way it was where I worked. That's just the way it is...

"Of course, these guys probably never tested a component to the board level in their lives. It all came to a head that day I repaired their outdated duplication equipment which served to add fuel to the growing animosity. The owners had apparently told everyone the machine was beyond repair, which naturally, put them in a bad light when I got it running better than before. 

Rather than being pleased with my innovative solution that cost them pennies, my repair didn't set well with either partner.

Old SEAC Computer, Wikimedia Images, Public Domain

Sure, I was probably as arrogant as either of these dudes that seemed dead set on running the company into the ground. They were quick to mock those of us with a few years of experience under our belt, calling us geezers and the like. The way I saw it, they couldn't diagnose their way out of a paper bag.

Their vendetta began almost immediately after my repair job and escalated from there.

To begin with, they removed me from all tasks having to do with technical or computer related equipment. Instead, they put me on a special project assembling wood cabinets in the blistering hot warehouse. The task was easy but I certainly wasn't putting my years of computer experience to use.

That wasn't important. I'd taken this entry level job out of desperation following a layoff at the computer company where I'd been working for twelve years. I had started working there right out of tech school, after graduating at the top of my class. I never had to look for a job - they had recruited me. 

Still, I was grateful that this new job provided enough money to pay the basic household bills, although my confidence and my ego suffered a bit during the transition.

Vintage Disk Duplication Equipment

Isolating me from the other workers by putting me in the warehouse apparently wasn't enough to suit them. When that wasn't enough to make me quit, they decided to up the ante and have me report in to work at four in the morning. The normal first shift clocked in at seven am.

I was headed to the warehouse to work my new schedule when I stopped by a Seven-Eleven to pick up some coffee and a snack. The store was quiet, empty at that time of the morning. It was still dark outside, so that came as no surprise. I helped myself to a large regular coffee in a Styrofoam cup and went up to the register to pay, but there was no cashier around. While I was looking at my watch and growing impatient, I heard a noise coming from behind the counter. Someone was moaning.

"Help me," the nearly inaudible voice whispered.

Now, that is definitely a sound that will get the heart pumping and the blood flowing. Then, I noticed the telephone was off the hook, its cord dangling to the floor. My eyes followed the twisted wire downward where I saw the receiver lying next to a body. He'd been shot.

Frantically, I looked around the store seeking who knows what - a doctor, an ambulance, better yet, some indication that I was still sleeping quietly in my nice warm bed at home. Instead, my eyes rested on an array of automatic weapons pointed in my direction.

The entire parking lot was jammed with patrol cars, their flashing lights sending eerie rays of red and blue strobes into the darkness of the early morning sky. Officers held their positions behind the cover of their vehicles. They had arrived on the scene silently with sirens turned off.

"Put your hands on top of your head and don't move!" the officer closest to the door shouted.

I managed to raise my hands above my head when the lead officer told me to sit down. There were cases of canned Coke stacked behind where I stood. Legs trembling, I took a seat on the display. In one hand, I still held the steaming cup of coffee whose purchase had taken me on this detour. Hot liquid dribbled down my arm from my shaking hand. Beads of perspiration covered my face. I felt like I might faint.

"It took little time for the officers to secure the building and confirm that the robbery suspect was not on the premises. They wrote down my personal information, asked me a few questions and told me I could leave. I was shaking so badly all I could do was sit in the car for a few minutes, saying a prayer of thanks to God.

"When I finally calmed down enough to drive, I headed to my workplace, arriving about the same time as one of the partners who was there to see if I showed up on time. He entered the building and stomped across the wooden floor with his muddy boots.

"You're late," he yelled, inches from my face.

"Yes, boss, I sure am." Before I had a chance to explain the reason for my delayed arrival, he screamed.

"You're fired!"

" 'Thank you,' I said, and I genuinely meant that. It was all I could do to leave the warehouse without hugging him. My mantra of Thank you, Jesus carried me all the way home where I counted my blessings and smiled at the brand new day ahead."

1 Old Computer equipment that used punch cards, By Tshrinivasan (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

2 By National Institute of Standards and Technology (National Institute of Standards and Technology) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Vacation on the Florida Gulf Coast

Toward the end of June, as our scheduled vacation grows closer, phone calls between me and my life long friend revolve around our week when she invites me to spend time with her. 

Since 1988, we've enjoyed relaxing together in the sun, swimming in the Jacuzzi, and catching up with each other's lives during a care-free seven days on the beach. Over the years, much in our lives has changed, but that time remains consistent.

The routine is the same year after year. I fly in from Dallas and she picks me up at the airport. We drive to her house to get the dogs ready for the kennel then we wait for Saturday afternoon when we can check in at the resort. She wisely invested in a one-bedroom timeshare years ago, and every year, come rain or shine, she has something to look forward to. What I've learned about vacations from her is that if you don't plan one, it won't happen.

Howard Frankland Bridge by By Miscelena 1

We drive across the Howard Frankland Bridge connecting Tampa Bay mainland to the west coast, stopping at Publix to pick up a supply of groceries for the week: steaks, baking potatoes, lettuce, tomatoes, hot dogs, and hamburger, veggies and an assortment of bread, cereal, milk, sodas, chips and snacks.

We travel light, our suitcases filled with shorts, tank tops, swim suits, flip flops and a good hat to protect our skin from the blazing sun. No fancy attire is required even when we eat out at beach side restaurants. Casual attire is king in Florida.

Next, we detour to the package store to pick up a gallon of burgundy and brandy for an endless pitcher of home made Sangria to share with our neighbors. Once we settle in to our room we visit the nearby shops to stock up on sunscreen and touristy things like T-shirts emblazoned with palm trees, sea oats and pelicans.

We're assigned the same room year after year, so we know exactly what to expect when we arrive. Each year, when we pick up the keys to her balcony apartment overlooking the sparkling pool and check in, it's like a step back into time. 

The keys are attached to green plastic tags with the room number. 

The kitchen has a full-size refrigerator, a range and oven, microwave, coffee pot and even a dishwasher. The unit is equipped with pots and pans, real dishes and silverware.

The kitchen is small but equipped with everything we need.

There's cable TV, although it holds less interest than usual for the week while we bask under umbrellas reading our paperback novels.

The couch makes into a hide-a-bed, and there's a queen sized-bed, comfortably allowing for four guests in this unit.

Our days are spent swimming in the pool, soaking in the Jacuzzi spa, grilling out on gas barbecue grills, and searching for shells. We alternate between dips in the pool and the Gulf  listening to the squawk of seagulls scrabbling over scraps of food.

Rhythmic waves pound against the glistening beach shore providing a relaxing and soothing reassurance that the ocean is eternal. We doze off in our lounge chairs, heads nodding while the warmth of the sun performs its magic, baking away our cares as we sit in the shade of the umbrellas and watch the waves roll out. (Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding)

Over the years improvements have been made at the resort. The balcony railings, formerly made of dark stained wood, have been replaced with practical white plastic rails. 

The uneven concrete walkway has been upgraded with beautiful patio stones that surround the pool and travel along the path leading to the outdoor shower. A locking storage unit has replaced the open lean-to which once housed the bright blue lounge chair mats.

Beach loungers are available at the resort

A crew of young college students perform routine maintenance vacuuming the sparkling pool and cleaning the swim spa jacuzzi. It always looks fresh and inviting for our week of vacation.

Perhaps the best part of the week is the quiet appreciation of nature in the evenings. The residents tend to gather under the umbrellas near time for sundown each night to enjoy that gift of serenity and beauty, a momentary splash of every color imaginable before the sun dunks into the ocean one more time.

As evening draws near, a contingent of beach goers gather at the shoreline in anticipation of the evening's spectacular view. Taking photos at sunset is a standard part of the week's ritual. And once that lightning fast week is over, sharing the photos brings back the joy of the week for years to come.

1 Photo of Howard Frankland Bridge, By Miscelena (http://www.flickr.com/photos/miscelena/403636460/) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Braids - Angel's Field, by Mike Friedman

The unlikely three companions who set out on a journey down the mountain have no idea of the dangers which await them on the road. Cyrus, a wizened woodsman and elder who tends the orchard, and Angel, who gathers and sows her colorful seeds, start off together on their quest in pursuit of the thief who has removed a tree from the orchard. Loss of the tree prevents a young girl from crossing over from this side of the realm to the next life. Her future remains in jeopardy without the guardian who resides within the tree. When they stop for rest and refreshment at a way station for boys, Carpenter, a young man captivated by Angel’s violet eyes, joins them from The Swing Zone where a lively game of baseball is in play.

Along their journey down the mountain, the trio encounters strange and deadly beasts, language barriers, an old world silk production enterprise, strong river currents, hunger, fatigue and determination. Spreading their talents and treasures with those along the trail, the trip requires ingenuity and perseverance on the part of all three who seek this missing tree.

The thief, a wily peddler named Seede, is ruthless in his treatment of those along his path, leaving behind, a trail of anguish, deception and loss. His eventual destination, to the Castel Mansion, is littered with remorseless acts for which he is well-known. His solicitor, Captain Castel, is willing to go to any means to cure his terminally ill daughter, including that of employing a hardened criminal to bring him what is required.

The story, an allegory of life, with its perils and pitfalls, moves along with a descriptive charm likened to fairy tales of old. There are strange inventions, tree houses, antique carvings, and games for children who await their final destination across the river on the other side.

Mike Friedman, beloved author of The Carriage Driver and the Emerald Wells Café series, along with a vast collection of short stories, weaves a web of intrigue, suspense and satisfaction within these too few pages of Braids – Angel’s Field.  His charming illustrations and imagination made me wish for more tales of adventure by this trio and other memorable characters peppered throughout the story.

Writing, The Pub, A Murder Mystery by Peg Cole

The Pub, A Murder Mystery by Peggy Cole

I'm surprised, elated, fearful, proud, disoriented, and delighted to see my book finally made it to the printed form. To hold it in my hand and feel it as a real object is inexplicably gratifying.

As many writers can tell you, the worst is over when the editing, formatting, updating, file changes downloading, reviewing and waiting for proofs is done.

There to guide me throughout the tedious parts of the publishing process, Michael Friedman of Mockingbird Books and Publishing added all the right touches to get this project completed. Mike also designed a book cover and back page blurb that captured elements from the story into the design. He was there to encourage, uplift and assist during the entire process.

Friends took their valuable time to read the manuscript, add thoughts, suggestions, corrections and feedback for the final version. I'm indebted to my brother who read this manuscript multiple times and whose comments helped me fix some inconsistencies. I left in a few, but who's checking? Also, proud to say that Maria Jordan wrote a beautiful foreword for the front pages and served as an editor as well. Thank you!

Maria's kind review of The Pub is located within her blog: Marcoujor's Musings.

The printed book is available only in paperback from Amazon. I can provide autographed copies if you wish. I hope to release an eBook version in the near future as well.

Thank you, Mike, for this kind book review published in HubPages.

The Pub is about an impressionable young woman who takes a new job that will sweep her away from the dull and mundane world of finance into a world rampant with graft, theft, lechery, revenge and even murder.

Joe Mitchell, The Pub's bookkeeper, encounters a cast of characters whose shadows grow longer as the night deepens. She's swimming in the shark tank surrounded with people who toss her an anchor. In a world of drifters, life changes and financial woes, the climate is hazardous at The Pub where they're serving up more than just good food.

I invite you to read this novel and share the adventure with Joe as she maneuvers her way through a crowd of characters into clouds of change.

Chocolate Cream Pie Recipe from Aunt Jessie

Once you taste the home made richness of this chocolate cream pie you'll never go back to instant pudding again. It's easy to make and well worth the time it takes.

Holidays were special times when our clan of cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings and parents gathered for a meal as a family. Preparations started before daylight for a full morning of cooking turkeys and baking cakes and pies. 

When it grew close to the lunch hour, we would gather around in the Florida room, lured in by the delicious aromas which wafted into the back yard where we were playing. The festive table was set with platters of every sort of food imaginable from roasted turkey and gravy, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, salads, cranberry sauce, casserole dishes, and of course, an entire table dedicated to dessert.

There was a variety of cakes and pies including mincemeat pie, pecan and strawberry, but the chocolate cream pie was always my favorite and usually the first one to disappear. Thoughts of those times bring fond memories of those pies made from scratch by someone we love.

It's not hard to duplicate this homemade pie, whether using a store-bought crust or making your own. Cooking the filling takes about twenty-five minutes, during which you can bake the single pie crust and let it cool. Here's how to do it:

Pie Crust Dough Recipe for a One Crust Pie

1 cup sifted all-purpose flour; 1/3 cup of solid vegetable shortening (like Crisco) or butter; 1/4 teaspoon salt and 2-3 tablespoons of cold water.

Sift the flour and salt together into a mixing bowl. Using two knives (in crisscross fashion) or a pastry cutter, cut in the shortening until the mixture looks like cornmeal. Slowly add the cold water, a little at a time, until the dough sticks together in a ball but is not sticky. More water or flour may be needed if the mix is too dry (add drops of water) or too sticky (add a little flour).

If you have time, refrigerate the dough for about an hour. This is usually not needed if the room temp is cool.

Transfer the dough ball to a lightly floured surface and roll it into a circle one inch larger than the pan to allow for a fluted edge. I made a video for Instructions on forming the pie crust:

1. Place the prepared dough into a deep-dish, 9 inch pie pan.
2. Trim and fold under the excess edges of the dough as you work your way around the rim.
3. Shape the edges into scallops by pressing the dough between two fingers and forming an indentation between them with the thumb of the other hand.
4. Make sure there are no cracks or tears in the uncooked crust. If repair is needed, a drop of water or milk will help mending the cracks.
5. Since the pie crust must be baked before adding the pudding, use a fork to prick tiny holes all around the edges and bottom of the crust. This allows steam to escape when baking.
6. Bake the crust at 450 degrees for 10 minutes or until golden brown. Cool completely on a wire rack before filling.

Ingredients and Instructions for the Chocolate Cream Pudding filling:

Ingredients: 2 cups of milk (regular or two percent), 1/4 cup of Corn Syrup, 4 Tablespoons of Corn Starch, 1/2 cup granulated sugar, 2 egg yolks, 4 Tablespoons Hershey's powdered cocoa, 1 Tablespoon butter, 1 teaspoon Vanilla extract. 

Mix together about a half cup of the milk, all the sugar, corn syrup, cornstarch and cocoa in a medium sized, heavy-duty saucepan.

Separate the egg yolks from the egg whites and add the yolks to the mixture and stir thoroughly with a whisk.

Add the rest of the milk and heat the mixture slowly over low to medium heat stirring constantly so it doesn't scorch. It may take between 11 and 15 minutes to reach a boil.

When the mixture comes to a boil and starts to thicken, immediately remove it from the heat and add the butter and vanilla extract stirring until the butter melts.

Let the mixture cool before spooning it into the cooled, baked pie crust.

Refrigerate the pie for at least an hour before serving.

Tips

• Be sure to watch the milk mixture carefully as it comes up to temperature and stir continuously.
• Resist the temptation to raise the heat too high. Medium heat is best to avoid scorching the milk and sugar.
• When the hot mixture starts bubbling up unexpectedly, take the pan off the heat.
• Allow the pudding to cool completely before pouring it into the crust. This helps keep the crust from getting soggy.
• If the pastry puffs up in places when baking, use a fork to prick the bubble and release the steam or the crust will bake in the raised shape.

Making homemade whipped cream is quick, easy and delicious. Or, if you like, you can use a prepared topping like Cool Whip or Ready Whip Whipped Cream.

This family recipe is one of my husband's all-time, most requested desserts.

Chocolate Cream Pie

Feral Cats in the Country - A Poem

Living out in the country brings in a variety of stray cats looking for food and shelter. The latest visitor is a feral cat we named Tiny.

Soft paws sneaking in the wood,

New cat in the neighborhood.

Bug filled droppings in the yard,

Life so far has been real hard.

Sensed the dogs but unafraid

Came inside the fence and laid

Bravely on the garden sill

Bearing only his good will.

Needs a place to eat and sleep

Away from wolves disguised as sheep

Who live to run and love the chase

Makes the woods a scary place.

Here he'll stay and share his fleas

Unprotected against disease.

One day soon he’ll see the vet

Secure his future as a pet.

Until then he runs to hide,

Watching me eyes open wide.

A bowl of food and water, too

Sending silent thanks to you.

This is Tiny

Ode to a Klingon - A Tribute to Buddy Lee

Driving past the rest area, I spotted two dogs playing next to the highway. Without a thought, I veered into the picnic area to draw them away from the seventy mile-per-hour traffic.

Both dogs followed the truck as I pulled in and grabbed the packet of dry dog food from beneath the driver's seat.They scarfed up the kibble in seconds prompting me to search for more food in the truck.

When I turned around, the Doberman was gone. The one that looked like a wolf remained close, watching my every move. His hair was matted and dirty; his ribs visible through the thick fur. He sat quietly by the open door of the truck waiting for the question that would change both our lives:

"Do you want to go home with me, boy?"

He raised his right paw as an answer.

The first night Buddy was with us, I put him in the fenced pen that once housed our emus. He had food and water, yet he lacked the companionship he so desperately craved. 

In the morning, I took his breakfast out there and found he had dug his way out from under the chain link fence. I cried all the way to work, believing him to be lost once again.

Once I arrived at work I retrieved my voice mail messages. Buddy found his way home and into the heart of my hubby who said, "This little buddy is a keeper." And so he got his name and became part of our family, joining our twelve year old Retriever, Slick, and his new Chow companion, three year old Dolly Joe.

One Christmas, I wrote a poem when Buddy Lee displayed interest in one ornament on our tree.

Ode to a Klingon by Peg Cole

The tinny voice of Mr. Worf
Grown silent now at last. 
Has echoed from the Christmas tree
Of many seasons past.

The shuttle craft has lost its voice
The micro chip is quiet.
And yet I do not toss it out
I dare not start a riot.

Each morning when the lights went on
The Klingon's voice would call
And Buddy Lee would tilt his head
In wonderment and awe..

Not that one...the Runabout, please, push the button.

The micro chip inside the ship
Spoke deeply from the boughs
And Buddy Lee would come and look
To find the source of prose.

His head pressed firmly on his paws
He guards the silent tree
"Where is the Klingon warrior's voice?
That used to speak to me?"

We laughed at Buddy's interest 
When turning on the tree
He'd always come and take a look
The curious Buddy Lee.

The Warrior's voice is silent now
Its magic has been spent
Though Buddy Lee still stalks the tree
Amid the limbs he's bent.

The thoughts inside my canine's head
Remain a mystery
The strange attraction Buddy has
Is plain for all to see.

And now to find another craft 
On eBay do I search
The plastic shuttle Rio Grande 
Not from the planet Earth.

Bud looks at us with pleading eyes.
His Klingon mentor lacking.
Quick, purchase from the on-line store
With automated tracking.

Bizarre and disconnected from
The day of Jesus' birth.
Yet still I long for Deep Space Nine,
To celebrate with mirth.

I'll hope that it arrives in time,
Without delay or reasons.
And pray each day that Buddy stays
To celebrate more seasons.

Buddy Lee at Twelve

For he's grown old my Buddy Lee
His bright eyes now grown dim.
And Christmas wouldn't be the same
An empty day without him.


So hasten to me UPS
Your brown truck at my door.
And let me see Bud's eyes light up,
When Worf will speak once more.

Buddy Lee was with us for twelve wonderful years during which he was a valued member of our family.

There is a street near our house named Dog Drop Road. Some people take it as an invitation to leave their unwanted pets wandering about lost, wondering what they did to deserve being abandoned.

Braniff Airways Flying Colors by Richard Benjamin Cass - Book Review

Braniff Airways - Flying Colors Images of Modern America takes the reader through a photographic tour of the life and times of Braniff Airways. Beginning in 1928, Tom Braniff and his brother Paul Revere Braniff dedicated their efforts toward bringing affordable air travel to the public.

Inspired by the cross Atlantic flight of Charles Lindberg, these brothers, pioneers in a fledgling aviation industry, took the purchase of one fabric covered, five passenger Stinson airplane and transformed their dream into an empire.

Struggling through the troubled times of the Great Depression, they pulled out of a near bankruptcy by adapting their services to carrying mail for the government before expanding into commuter routes between Dallas and Oklahoma. The fascinating story of how they grew their dream is captured alongside the colorful, ninety-five page photo filled documentary detailing the evolution of the airline.

Inside you'll discover facts about its leaders, employees, series of planes and jets, training facilities, executive offices, designer uniforms, flight hostesses and flight attendants, its amazing in-flight meals, designer fabrics and paint schemes of their fleet, along with the ever evolving changes in passenger transport equipment.

The book takes the reader from the airline's humble beginnings to its eventual demise as an multi-billion dollar entity.

The book is illustrated with a vast collection of Dallas History of Aviation's historic photographs housed at McDermott Library UTD as well as the author's lifelong collection of Braniff Flying Colors photos and memorabilia.

Author Richard Benjamin Cass dedicates this book to the memory of Harding Luther Lawrence, whose leadership role at Braniff spanned the years from 1965 to 1981. He guided the airline through the deregulation of the airline industry in 1978, to expansion internationally, through its years plagued with exponential fuel increases, dynamic drops in passenger air travel, and expanding interest charges on unpaid debt. He speaks about route awards by then President Carter, of revenue increases and route expansions without delving into the whys and intricate details of how these issues were overcome.

Well worth the price, the book will delight any reader who has an interest in aviation history along with those who strive to keep the memory of Braniff alive.

Grilling Hot Dogs Outside

Summer is almost here. Time to bring out the barbecue grill and test your skills at outdoor cooking. Never grilled out? Don't worry. It's easier than you think. Even I can do it.

For a number of years, I left the outdoor cooking to the man of the house. It seemed more of a manly thing to do with the dirty charcoal and the use of liquid fire starter. I never imagined how much fun it would be to build a little fire in our Weber grill, skewer my food and actually cook it over an open flame. The first time I took over the tongs was like a brand new world had opened.

One fourth of July, we invited a few of our friends over to celebrate at our place out in the country. For variety, we decided on hamburgers and hot dogs to go with the extra dishes brought in by our guests.

In the sweltering summer heat someone started a horseshoe game and my hubby, the grill Chef, disappeared.

When the flames on the barbecue pit began to signal a fire hazard, it was too late to rescue the little briquettes that were once juicy hamburgers. They were burnt to a crisp and looked like  hockey pucks.

Luckily, we had more hot dogs and managed to feed the multitude. But that day was the turning point on my view of grilling. From that moment forward, I would be the designated grill chef.

One of the first things I learned is something experienced grill chefs know already: You only need a small pile of charcoal for quick cooking.

When I say a small pile, I mean a pile no larger than a quarter of the size of the kettle. For foods that take a long time, you need a lot more charcoal, but not with hamburgers and hot dogs.

First, pour the charcoal into one area of the lower grill inside the drum. It's important that the old ashes are discarded safely in a fireproof bucket or a trash bag before you begin. 

Never dump out the grill ashes until you're certain that they are cold.

Squirt on a small amount of liquid charcoal lighter.

Use an electric starter or a long wooden match to ignite the pile of charcoal and wait for the edges to turn white.

When the coals start to burn off the charred remains of the last cookout I use my wire brush to vigorously clean the top grill to remove any rust and debris.

Safety Reminders - Keep some water handy to put out smoldering ashes that fly out of the grill and land in the grass. I keep a squirt bottle handy to extinguish any flare ups.

Don't grill out if there is a strong wind. 

Don't overuse the charcoal starter fluid or the chemical taste will transfer to the food along with the chemicals it contains. 

Keep food refrigerated until the last possible moment when it goes on the grill. Promptly refrigerate any cooked food that is left over, especially in the heat of the summer.

Another key is to keep things moving around on the grill. Turn the hot dogs frequently and move them to a cool area when they start cooking too fast or turn too black.

The key to successful grilling is to be prepared for any flame ups from dripping grease. Since the hot dogs are fully cooked to begin with, the timing and amount of grilling is really up to your personal preferences. If you've never grilled out before, don't worry. It's so easy even I can do it, seriously.

The Weber Original 22 inch grill has served us for nearly two decades. 

We've replaced the top grill once due to rust, and with a good cleaning, it's nearly the same as when we got it from Home Depot.

With the barbecue tongs in hand, I rule my smoky domain. All the best in your outdoor cooking. Happy grilling!