The Stove's on Fire!

And an update in the latest party cooking report.

After filing Tuesday’s story about the ongoing trials and tribulations of cooking for Saturday’s party, a burst of ‘you-can-do-it’-ness took over and I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies. They cooled on the dining room table and then I carefully layered them in a plastic container before going to bed. Pamela was coming the next day so I ran about sprucing up the place for her and thought it would be very smart to stow the cookie container along with another plastic container in the oven so they’d be out of her way. Pamela arrived early and I got out of her way until one of her daughters came over after school and we all had a long chat on tons of important subjects then the dog needed a walk and Pamela and her daughter left for home. My husband came in around seven. I turned on the oven to heat up while I began to make dinner (beef burritos) and he told me about his day. Five minutes later black smoke billowed from the oven: plastic melting, cookies aflame. My husband threw salt. I handed him the fire extinguisher and ran around opening all the windows: smoke is mesmerizing when it waffs out into the night.

My husband thinks the cookies are still good—at least the ones not salt encrusted or sprinkled with molten acrylic bits. I’ve scrubbed the insides as much as possible but I don’t know what to do about the hard ribbons of plastic hanging over the racks. Hopefully Jim, our appliance repair guy, will be able to save the oven by Christmas.

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Morning, everyone!

Here is today’s edition of the Party Report. . . .

My husband has COVID! I just put him to bed in the back room and am about to raid the local drug store.

So there you go! A wounded stove and a invalid husband. The guests are sending get better wishes and I tell them the party will definitely, positively happen in January.

Still, the holiday’s dance about us to celebrate with cheer and extend our gratitude for each and everyone of you!