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Every year, I think it would be great to get Hubby a brand new grill for Father's Day. But that's exactly what the grill-marketing executives want me to think. Every year, I look at the sea of shiny grills and imagine Hubby in an apron that boldly declares, "Kiss the Cook!" I see him flipping burgers until they are perfectly pink. But then I catch a glimpse of the pre-summer price tags and decide on a nice necktie, instead.

This year, after receiving a brightly colored necktie depicting a grill manned by "dad-the-chef" in June, Hubby spent the summer watching for the big make-room-for-school-supplies-and-Christmas-decorations sales. Then, one day near the end of July, he came home from an errand and casually mentioned that all sorts of "summer" items were finally on sale.

Maybe the heat distracted me. Maybe the kids were getting too loud. Whatever the reason, I bit the hook like a bug-eyed carp and asked, "What kinds of summer items?"

Hubby paused, trying not to seem too enthusiastic, and then replied, "Oh, you know, pool supplies, bathing suits, patio furniture ... and, I think I saw a really nice grill for a great low price."

"A grill?" I asked. "If it's affordable, it's probably smaller than what we've got."

"Well," Hubby went on, a little less guarded this time, "I'm not sure if it's bigger or smaller, but it does have a side burner that could be used to warm up beans or boil corn on the cob."

A light flickered on in my distracted brain. Someone had done his research. Someone was getting tired of neckties. Someone wanted his own grill, not a hand-me-down filled with replacement parts, including a few non-grill parts that were inserted after some creative improvisation on the part of the men in the family that refuse to be "beaten" by an outdoor appliance.

Guilt from years of tie-giving, coupled with the thought of not having to worry about cooking supper until the "new grill novelty" wore off were enough to get me to the store. Prior to heading to the store, Hubby measured our grill. We decided that a smaller grill would not do, so if the on-sale grill didn't measure up, we'd hang on to our antique just a little longer.

The first appliance that caught my eye -- OK, the first price tag that caught my eye -- was actually a pig cooker. From a distance, it had a grill-type appearance, but upon closer examination, it was clear that the device was made for Southern barbecue, not for a backyard, chicken and dogs, kids splashing in the sprinkler, horseshoe tournament, marshmallow-roasting barbecue.

Hubby caught me by the arm and ushered me inside. The grill he had been eyeing was inside the store, near the discounted beach chairs and garden accessories.

We found the grill he'd been considering. But looking at the box, I had my doubts. Sure it was affordable, but a grill that could cook enough food for our household couldn't possibly fit in that box. Hubby was one step ahead of me. "Let's see if they have a floor model."

Sure enough, just a few feet away sat the grill that was supposedly in the box. It looked roomy. It seemed as big, or even bigger, than the one that was vehemently fighting off rust on our deck. And like he said, it had an extra burner to the side, perfect for cooking summer side dishes or winter spaghetti during an adverse weather power outage.

But the one next to the one Hubby wanted, made by the same company, originally $60 more than the original price on Hubby's dream grill, was now sale-priced at only $10 more than the sale price of the other. It was bigger and better and included neat perks like a condiment rack and utensil hooks.

Of course, we purchased the bigger model along with a nice canvas cover, sold separately and not on sale. Once home with the box, we soon found that the cardboard was an optical illusion. Within minutes, there were grill parts, plastic and mini-cardboard boxes with tinier parts strewn all over the driveway. Seriously, we had to park the cars out in the street.

By the time the sun began to dip in the sultry summer sky, Hubby had his new grill assembled. It looked even bigger than it seemed in the store. It took up most of the space on our deck. The old grill looked like something the new grill spit out after eating something disagreeable.

However, we have strong ties to the old grill. Therefore, we identified a new home for our old friend. My brother and his family just moved from their apartment to a house in the country with a pool. The only thing they lack is a broken-in, seasoned grill for big, family backyard barbecues. And since it's a housewarming gift, maybe we'll throw in a matching necktie.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.