ADVENTURES IN THE KITCHEN

It truly must be time for us to move on.  In approximately 10 days, we have experienced three major kitchen "incidents" not including the smoke alarms constantly beeping to tell us supper is ready.  Perhaps it stems from the fact that the stove and oven are so clean now, a little spill sets everything smokin'.  Perhaps it is just our destiny.  Our destiny to leave this kitchen behind and move on to a new kitchen.  A new kitchen with, hopefully, better karma.

It all started with an overestimated time for popping pop corn in the microwave.  You know the smell of burned popcorn, right?  Then, someone (I won't mention names) decided that microwaving cookie dough to make chocolate chip cookies would be sooo much more efficient.  THAT smell is probably not as familiar.  I will tell you that microwaved cookie dough smells like wet money.

Upon assessing my situation, I made the executive decision to simply buy a new microwave.  (Insert the pretzel-making blog story).

Thursday comes and it is time to celebrate Christmas with my parents.  We decided to continue our tradition of brunchy-type foods even though we were getting together in the evening.  Therefore, my famous baked french toast was on the menu.  Little did I know I was on the verge of a breakthrough in baking adventures.  You see, I managed to create flambé french toast!  That's right!  There was a literal FIRE IN MY OVEN!!!!  We all know not to throw water on a kitchen fire so, while my mom is telling me, "Just get the salt, Ginger.  The salt,"  I'm tossing spices out of my cupboard looking for the salt, my daughter is racing to get her camcorder to record our house going up in flames while I consider the difficulty of selling a home that has burned to the ground because of a sugar fire.  My other daughter is handing me the fire extinguisher.  Eric is rescuing the french toast OUT of the oven so we can have something to eat.  I decide to stop my vain search for salt to rescue the scrambled eggs and Eichman's bacon from the stove top.  The oven door somehow got closed (probably my dad).  And we stood with our mouths gaping as we watched helplessly flames licking the inside of my oven and then quietly disappear like the morning mist as the sun rises.  

Oh, yes.  Did I mention the fire alarms do work quiet nicely.  With the windows open as well as both front and back doors, I'm sure the  neighbors knew supper was ready to be served - along with a great adventure!