May 31, 2005

Yet More Random Thoughts, This Time Collected Throughout the Afternoon and Then Compiled and Entered As Something of an End-of-the-Day Diversion

-- Found out that the summer school Health class Oldest will be taking is a self-directed course, involving no class time, but rather a series of research papers to be handed in at regular intervals, meaning a) it can be taken concurrently with Driver’s Ed., instead of taking one then the other, and b) the potential for NOT completing the Health class assignments has now risen logarithmically. Maybe her close proximity to the library during the day will offer her incentive to do her work. Please, do not destroy my child-like trust by reminding me of uncomfortable things such as past assignments left undone.

-- So, Paris is getting hitched. To some rich kid named Paris. Well.

I’m sure that’ll work out just fine.

-- It has rained intermittently here for the past several days, and I don’t know how people in the Northwest can stand it like this all the bleeding time. I think I’d start seeing Sasquatches, too. (Which actually isn’t some sort of creature, but just some slow guy who got covered up with algae.)

-- Someone needs to explain to me the purpose of the broiler pan. You know, the one that comes with your oven. Actually, what I’m REALLY looking for is an explanation of Reba’s intense fascination with using this thing. I have no idea why she likes it so much, because every time--and I mean EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. SHE TOUCHES THE BROILER PAN--she smokes up the entire house with it.

Sunday we had a dinner and then our evening service right afterwards, so we were free the rest of the afternoon. I got into my loungewear (after we got home) and puttered around a bit and finally took to my bed for some sleep, while Reba and Rebecca went to Target to look for some big plastic storage boxes for a certain set of two girls’ toys. Unbeknownst to me, this trip included buying YET MORE foodstuffs, because Rebecca told her Mommy that the one thing she has been craving for weeks is a hamburger cooked on the grille by her Daddy.

When they got home, they found that Rebecca’s daddy was asleep, and not only that, it was raining outside. Not that precipitation has ever caused me to be excused from grilling duties, but Reba seemed not to want to wake me up. That was until I was drifting in a fitful slumber and was jolted awake by the rapid EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP of the smoke alarm. ::sigh:: I roused myself up and went downstairs, which had a fine blue haze floating along the ceiling like an Amsterdam strip club. Windows were being flung up, back door being swung nearly off its hinges by Tiny Terror, din of the EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP still going. ::sigh:: Why?

Of course, I dast not ask the question out loud, because there was a certain child’s mommy who was on the defensive, and I know better than to mess with her when she’s like that. “I…” “I’m SORRY I woke YOU UP. I was JUST trying to COOK some SUPPER around HERE and this thing is making SMOKE ALL OVER THE PLACE and I was JUST trying to COOK something everyone would EAT for once…”

Hey, slow down--no one said anything.

Which is again something I said ONLY in my head.

I quietly went and opened the door to the garage (where the EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP was also going on, even through a closed door) and opened up the garage door. In a minute, the noise stopped and I got the low-down on why we were conducting the test of the alarm system. Namely, that no one had wanted to disturb me because I was asleep.

I did quietly say that if she was upset with all the smoke, maybe she could have cooked them in the skillet. “NO! THAT’S FRYING THEM, AND SHE WANTED THEM GRILLED! and BROILING IS AS CLOSE TO GRILLING AS I CAN DO!” I figured I wouldn’t suggest anything like turning the temperature on the oven down to something lower than the flash point of animal fat. That would probably not be real broiling or something.

Anyway, this process of meat, oven, smoke EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP EEEEP continued until the entire package of ground beef had been appropriately incinerated.

A nice supper with broiled hamburger, work with beloved wife to clear the dishes, get the kids upstairs, load the dishwasher, and…hmm. Look, in addition to the mess left on the stove, there’s a greasy broiler pan. Obviously, for ME to clean. Another habit--not only is the broiler used on a semi-regular basis to fumigate our domicile, it always seems to happen that I get stuck with cleaning it.

It might be that one day that broiler pan mysteriously goes missing.

-- Now then, to work some more, and then to home.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at May 31, 2005 04:08 PM

I'll bet I'm the only commenter here that can honestly say I've been in an Amsterdam strip club. But only once. And I took the spouse. Or she led me, I forget which.

But this post is a classic Possumblog hit! I love the story of incinerated beef products. I'm late to leave and laughing out loud to myself in my cubicle. Luckily, nobody caught me at it...

Thanks Terry!

Posted by: Nate at May 31, 2005 04:54 PM

No problem, Nate--and stay out of them naughty places! "Cubicle," indeed!

(And for the record, Amsterdam is a lovely city of winding canals and scenic architecture. And anything else about it I deny all knowledge of.)

Posted by: Terry Oglesby at May 31, 2005 05:08 PM

I just don't get it with the broiler pan debacle. Easiest way in the world to cook burgers or steaks inside. Pam the top with the holes; set oven to "broil"; when top coil gets red, stick broiler pan on top rack of oven; time for 5-7 minutes (how done/rare?) then flip over for another 4-5. I like to season the meat in the last couple of minutes. Since you Pammed the broiler before you started, clean-up is a snap.

Posted by: Indigo at May 31, 2005 11:20 PM

Well, after the first hundred times, I was finally able to convince her to use Pam on the thing so I wouldn't have so much trouble cleaning it up, so that part we have covered. The part I can't quite get her to work right is the timing of the cooking. Five minutes? I wish! She likes 'em well done (which is a good idea for ground beef anyway) which is fine if you keep them turned so they don't start smoking. But I haven't quite gotten her to the point of regular turning yet. Trust me, though--there will be plenty more times for her to experiment!

Posted by: Terry Oglesby at June 1, 2005 07:47 AM