Last time I was in Indy was December, and it was awful. Tons of snow, gray, nasty. This time I was able to get out and enjoy the city a bit, and I really liked it there. If you go, you must eat here:
It's called Palomino, right downtown. Amazing food, great service. Love the seafood.So, I returned back to Lansing Friday, and Saturday Randy and I just worked around the house. Sunday found as at my parents' house in Gaines, meeting my sister and niece there so we could give my niece her birthday present.
Kelsey turned 11, and all she wanted in the world was a "lamination machine." Not a laminator, but a "lamination machine." When she comes to my house, she uses mine, and we laminate everything in sight. So, now, she finally has her own. My mom says everything in her house is now covered in lamination. Guess it was a hit.
And now I reveal yet another Willett Family Drama......brought on by yours truly.
Sunday night I decided to make a peach cobbler. Side note: If you haven't had Paula Deen's peach cobbler, you're living a very empty life.
Anyway, into the oven goes the cobbler. The baking dish seemed pretty full, but I thought it would be all right.
I was wrong.
It not only overflowed, but it looked like a volcano had gone off inside my poor oven. And the smoke.....WHEW!
But, being that it was getting on into the evening, I didn't want to start the oven cleaning and have it going when I was going to bed. So, I decided to do it Monday night when Randy was in St. Johns.
Monday comes, and Randy announces he's not going to St. Johns. So, we throw together a dinner, which included, of all things, a potato dish that needs to be baked.
It's not until I open the oven door that I remember the mess in the oven. I think, "Oh, it will be all right. What's a little smoke. The potatoes only take 20 minutes."
The kitchen gets pretty smokey, but we open the window and back door, turn on the ceiling fan, and we're okay.
After dinner I go in to do dishes, and stupidly I think, "I'll start the oven cleaning cycle now so it will for sure be done by the time we go to bed." As I'm doing dishes, thankfully almost done, the kitchen entirely FILLS with smoke and I run for my life.
Mr. Love comes up and says something really intelligent like, "What in the world are you doing?" and then heads to the basement to get fans. He sets them up to blow out the door and out the window.
By this time, the smoke has gotten so bad I have to leave the house. I'm out on the front porch, looking inside, wondering if this is ever going to end and cursing the day I ever thought I could bake anything. Jack, our poodle, is scared to death and hiding in the basement, and Chloe is, of course, hiding under the bed. Every light in the house is on, every fan in the house is on, the house is filled with smoke, and I'm worried that Mr. Love will be overcome and then how will I ever drag him out of that kitchen without smacking his head on something.
Eventually it ended, as all things do, with no great harm to home, person, or poodle. The fans were returned to their normal stations. The oven was wiped down and ready for my next disaster. The only lingering problem was discovered when we went to bed last night. We had breathed so much smoke that we were both actually wheezing! Of course Mr. Love falls right to sleep and snores to beat the band. I have a choice of wearing my ear plugs to block the snoring, which then means my wheezing sounds 100 times louder than it is, or take out the ear plugs so I can't hear the wheezing, but then I can't sleep from the snoring next to me.
Robitussin. God bless Robitussion. A shot of that, and my wheezing relaxed. Ear plugs in, and finally, finally sleep.
Hard to believe this is all that's left from the mess that caused all of the smoke!
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