MENTAL NOTE: Say things quietly to myself first.

Sometimes I say things that seem fine in my head but then sound totally different, and sort of felonious and irresponsible, to others when said aloud.

"So, what are you guys up to this weekend?" says Friend as we carpooled home from work.

"Oh, we're just going to hang out, smoke some stuff and then obviously eat and pass out." says Me as casual as the day is long.

"WHAT? Aren't your friends coming to town?" cries Friend as she physically swivels herself in the passenger seat of my Prius which does not have swiveling seats.

"Um. Yes." I am now raising my eyebrows because I'm afraid and confused. I also begin to think she might be simple.

"Don't they have a baby?!" she continues to ask me in that what are you insane voice that people sometimes use with insubordinate spouses and the desk people at the DMV.

"Um. Yes." I reply again, now wondering if there's yet another aspect of child-rearing that has escaped me. Like, what, are they all allergic to BBQ?

"What? Are they allergic to BBQ? These babies?" I ask. Because obviously this is the only reason she'd be freaking out like this.

"WHAT?!" (her)

"WHAT?!" (me)

And then Jack, Chrissy and Janet come running through the car, all Chinese Firedrill style, each wearing one too few items of clothing or something equally innocuous but still confusing.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. You meant meat." As she reswivels and sits back in her seat. Breathing, what I consider, a bizarre sigh of relief about the potential hazards of bbq on infants.

"WHAT?!" (me - I'm simple.)

See, while I was innocently fantasizing about all the MEAT we were going to SMOKE in the SMOKER and then EAT while my friends were in town, she thought I was just all casually planning a weekend when we all get super high, order in Thai food and then pass out, leaving the baby to his own devices.

OH.

Yeah, no.

This was the big weekend when we smoke meat.

(Sidenote: If you say "we're going to smoke meat" to unsuspecting coworkers, it will usually illicit similar confused reactions because it sounds a lot like "we're going to smoke weed" and that doesn't do a lot to help unconfuse the friend from the carpool and it might also get your "personal record" a thorough checking into. Just saying.)

ANYWAY.

We finally got our act together and aligned the stars so that we could smoke some brisket and pork shoulder before the frigid snows of NorCal flew and we were up to our toenails in winter. Somehow the summer escaped us and we found ourselves in the middle of September without any BBQ about which we could reminisce.

WRONG.

So, last weekend Bubba dressed up the smoker in some new rustproofing paint (HOT) and this weekend we went to town on some brisket and pork.

And, please note, all the while I'm saying "we", you all know I mean Bubba. Because my only expertise in the BBQ area has to do with my ability to eat my body weight in brisket and not at all in my ability to create it.

Thankfully, Bubba knows just exactly what he's doing and doesn't need any interference from me, thankyouverymuch.

In fact, he created these masterpieces without any of my motherhenning:

And we all had ourselves some fabulous KC style BBQ without permanently damaging any babies or learning first-hand the intricacies of applicable health and safety codes.