Grillin’ Adventures

I love grilled food. Especially the blackened bits that usually contain fats and may cause cancer. Those things. That I know is a genetic trait. I get it from my mother, who only thinks it’s toast if it’s burnt. So I come by it honestly.
The anti-raw bits of meat is probably a past life thing. Must have been death by nasty parasite sometime when I wasn’t an Egyptian queen or Joan of Arc.
The problem I have is actually grilling the things. Sure I can turn on the gas, then look away as I frantically away push the magic starter button trying to get the grill started before it erupts in to a fireball.
That is the easy part.
Cooking it all the way through to the center apparently requires some cave mojo that got chlorinated out of my gene pool around the time of the industrial revolution (gone the way of the Dodo, don’t you know?). I know I must have had it. After all, I’m a direct descendant of those open pit grilling cavedwellers. I’ve even seen pictures of hearty folks preparing feasts in a minivan sized fireplace.
I would like to reinsert the missing grilling sequence back into my DNA. But until then, I’ll keep practicing when no one is looking and fantasize about Bobbitting those men folk who grill entire entrees that aren’t bloody in the center.

About Linda Andrews

Linda Andrews lives with her husband and three children in Phoenix, Arizona. When she announced to her family that her paranormal romance was to be published, her sister pronounce: "What else would she write? She’s never been normal." All kidding aside, writing has become a surprising passion. So just how did a scientist start to write paranormal romances? What other option is there when you’re married to romantic man and live in a haunted house? If you’ve enjoyed her stories or want to share your own paranormal experience feel free to email the author at She’d love to hear from you.
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