In the aftermath of Ike, our back yard was littered with oak branches.
What to do? Burn them.
If they weigh the same as a duck. But with no scale or duck we just guessed the weights and put flame to them anyway. Dirty old Ike.
So Miss Jane bought a bag of marshmallows and we feasted on fluffy golden sugary blobs smoked slowly over the smoldering dismembered oak.
The grill glowed like a multi-eyed jack-o-lantern.
And Miss Jane saved some of the evening snack on her foot.
Sweeet
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