It WASN’T my fault. A few weeks ago the Tall Dude had made a raspberry pie and when the buzzer when off, I decided to take it out. I generally stay out of the kitchen since Keith is close enough to a foot taller than I am to make it impossible to find things. Dishwashing detergent should be under the sink, not in the cabinets above the sink. Damn inconvenient to be 5’6 (though Dori, who is married to my childhood next door neighbor and they have been married 27 years has a 14 inch difference. She says when they are horizontal the height difference doesn’t matter. Whatever.)

He put the pie in a flimsy aluminum pie plate and didn’t put it on a cookie sheet. I could only find one hot pad, tried to get it and of course, it bent and half the pie slid to the bottom of the oven. He came trundling down the stairs and took over, grumbling under his breath. Fine.

He cleaned up and I didn’t think much about it. I don’t cook. Not that I can’t. If you google me under one of the variations of my names, there are probably 50 ethnic recipes I put up 20 years ago for low fat cooking. But as I said, kitchen is not set up for normal humans.

If it doesn’t cook in 90 seconds in the microwave, it isn’t food. However, I decided to stretch my palette and made a pizza. My workroom is near the kitchen but I was deep into something and didn’t notice the waves of gray smoke rolling around the house. Tall Dude came down, turned off the oven and went back up, opening a window. I still didn’t notice, other than both dogs were under the rear window in my workroom. Then the alarm went off. Without a ladder it is impossible for me to reach. No Ladder.

I opened all the doors, waved my hands to blow the smoke away from the thing, and finally got it shut down.
Would it have taken the Tall Dude more than a moment to have pulled the latch and set the oven to clean instead of booby trapping it with raspberry guts under the bottom pan? Hmmmm? Damn Luddite.

So what does this have to do with my friends? Yesterday I got a couple of presents. Today is a furlough day (no pay, a way to cut into our paychecks without dealing with Union and cutting hourly) so we aren’t in today and they wanted to catch me.

My colleague gave me a kitchen towel that has a ’50’s housewife saying “Dinner is ready when the smoke alarm goes off!”? And Kim, my WATER buddy gave me ‘Le Grimoire Enchante A Sorcerer’s Cookbook.’
There is the reason I prefer friends that are FAR FAR AWAY.

No. That doesn’t work. I also got a coffee mug that my friend in NJ (Part of a crew of us meeting for the first time at her house, including an Aussie, a Brit, a crazy Canadian Tartlet) designed that is…well, maybe appropriate.

More stuff.
IT WASN’T my fault.
Giggle. My colleague says I am a pro at placing blame. Happy Birthday Week to me :p

9 thoughts on “IT WASN’T MY FAULT!

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