There is only one leftover screw and only one wheel is a bit wobbly. No, they do not belong together. Minimal blood. Lots of sweat. A few tears.
Ellie's lack of opposable thumbs and my lack of brute strength and our combined fear of propane tanks meant that we were not able to use it on Saturday. The tank kept leaking when we tried it again on Sunday. On Monday we stared at it, willing it to work, but it still would not. We lost the will to eat actual food and settled for cereal on Tuesday.
On Wednesday, Sister and her dearly devoted husband came over and fixed it. I made shish kebabs. And Sister made this.
The meal made us all quite full.
And me a little bit sweaty because it is 105 freaking degrees outside and 95 freaking degrees in my kitchen. Even Ellie is belly-flopped on the tile floor in direct line of the swamp cooler vent.
I guess it is finally summer.
And the motivating lyrics of the day from the song, Separate, by one of my new favorite bands, Trampled By Turtles:
Filled with fatal flowers and praying
For the sky to turn from black to grey
Hear what I say
Never plain nor simple
It's breaking my heart
But I'm working hard
war from beauty