turning lemons into lemonade

So, from my previous blog last week, you already know I have had a dead furnace on my front porch. Why I didn’t think to take a picture of it all this time is beyond me. I guess I was hoping to keep some of my pride in tack.

Last week my parents came in town for Mother’s Day and we celebrated at our house. As you know, we already bought a grill. Now this isn’t a mammoth size grill, this is one of those girly size grills—that once lit, the flames don’t have the ability to reach your eyebrows, just your arm hair. Once my dad got it set up, we were looking around our house for something to set it up on, to make it more easily usable rather than squatting down on the ground. My dad started rummaging around in our garage, couldn’t find anything, then in a moment of brilliance, I shouted out, “THE FURNACE!”

This thing is ginormous, so much so it’s been impossible for us to move out to the curb in hopes that the trash man would pick it up. My dad and I go out to the front porch to have a look at it, and he says it’s perfect since it’s solid metal. We grab a dolly and start moving that thing to the back porch (all while in heels I might add)—and it works perfectly, as you can see down below. Please notice the bungee cords holding it in place…I’m tellin’ ya…we bring class to trash.

Ladies and Gentlemen…that’s how you turn lemons into really good steak.

“she’s a pretty girl” at the grill