Hey Kids!
My latest article for InspiredByFamily online magazine has been posted. If you're interested in checking it out, here's the link: http://inspiredbyfamilymag.com/2012/09/30/the-busy-trap/
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Gas Fireplace
Tonight I laid on the floor of my living room in front of the gas fireplace for a half an hour. I'm really happy to have a gas fireplace. But it's not the same.
It doesn't sound right. It doesn't roar. Or snap and pop. It doesn't make that sound when the wind blows hard and sucks extra air up the chimney. And my very favorite fire-noise: when the flames get to a sap pocket in the log and it hisses for a few second before the super-loud CRACK! That's my favorite.
Gas fireplace doesn't look right, either. It doesn't shift. The flames are always the same color. You can't poke it. And you can't have that little moment of secret victory when you've neglected to feed it and it's died down, so you haul in a few more logs, stack them on what looks like a dead fire, and then give it a few, long, narrow blows. And then, like magic straight out of a fantasy novel, the fire SPRINGS back to life and you smugly smile and go back to whatever you were doing. YOU knew it wasn't dead. YOU knew it was playing possum, and look! Here it is again- that fire's right as rain, thanks to your expertise.
None of that with the gas fire. But it's ok. Gas fireplace is still a pretty awesome perk.
It doesn't sound right. It doesn't roar. Or snap and pop. It doesn't make that sound when the wind blows hard and sucks extra air up the chimney. And my very favorite fire-noise: when the flames get to a sap pocket in the log and it hisses for a few second before the super-loud CRACK! That's my favorite.
Gas fireplace doesn't look right, either. It doesn't shift. The flames are always the same color. You can't poke it. And you can't have that little moment of secret victory when you've neglected to feed it and it's died down, so you haul in a few more logs, stack them on what looks like a dead fire, and then give it a few, long, narrow blows. And then, like magic straight out of a fantasy novel, the fire SPRINGS back to life and you smugly smile and go back to whatever you were doing. YOU knew it wasn't dead. YOU knew it was playing possum, and look! Here it is again- that fire's right as rain, thanks to your expertise.
None of that with the gas fire. But it's ok. Gas fireplace is still a pretty awesome perk.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
How to Brand Your Own Lip
Yesterday was the first cool day of the season. I love fall! And so I was thrilled to come home from work and put on jeans, a sweatshirt, and my slippers. Later in the evening, I had the brilliant idea of roasting a marshmallow over the flame of my gas stove burner. I'd never tried this before, but heard it works pretty well. I headed for the kitchen.
Being the clever girl that I am, I chose a fork with a plastic handle, so I wouldn't burn myself. This detail makes the story extra ironic. Just wait.
I lit the burner and proceeded to catch the mallow on fire several times in the process of finding the best distance from the flame (in case you're going to try this at home, you have to hold it much farther away from a flame than you do embers of a fire). Eventually I found the right distance, and watched joyfully as my little marshmallow puffed up and turned a beautiful, golden brown.
I turned off the burner and gave it a couple seconds to cool. Then I carefully removed the treat from the fork. I took a bite. Mmmmmm. As I savored the first bite, I realized that a small lump of marshmallow had stuck to the fork when I removed it. Without thinking about it, I put the fork in my mouth to eat off the leftover mallow.
I will never know how that particular bit tasted. As I began to close my lips around the fork, I was started by the sound of a very hot metal fork cooling quickly from the saliva in my mouth. The reaction was so fast that it didn't even feel hot- I just heard the sound and felt the steam in my mouth.
Feeling stupid for not realizing that the fork would stay hot longer than the marshmallow, I tossed the offending utensil in the sink. I finished my marshmallow and returned to my life.
A couple hours later I realized that there were rough patches on my lower lip. I headed to the bathroom for a closer inspection. Sure enough, there, branded into the skin inside my lips, were the four tines of the fork. I had branded myself. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt at all. Not sure how I managed that. I'm just gifted, I guess.
Or something.
Being the clever girl that I am, I chose a fork with a plastic handle, so I wouldn't burn myself. This detail makes the story extra ironic. Just wait.
I lit the burner and proceeded to catch the mallow on fire several times in the process of finding the best distance from the flame (in case you're going to try this at home, you have to hold it much farther away from a flame than you do embers of a fire). Eventually I found the right distance, and watched joyfully as my little marshmallow puffed up and turned a beautiful, golden brown.
I turned off the burner and gave it a couple seconds to cool. Then I carefully removed the treat from the fork. I took a bite. Mmmmmm. As I savored the first bite, I realized that a small lump of marshmallow had stuck to the fork when I removed it. Without thinking about it, I put the fork in my mouth to eat off the leftover mallow.
I will never know how that particular bit tasted. As I began to close my lips around the fork, I was started by the sound of a very hot metal fork cooling quickly from the saliva in my mouth. The reaction was so fast that it didn't even feel hot- I just heard the sound and felt the steam in my mouth.
Feeling stupid for not realizing that the fork would stay hot longer than the marshmallow, I tossed the offending utensil in the sink. I finished my marshmallow and returned to my life.
A couple hours later I realized that there were rough patches on my lower lip. I headed to the bathroom for a closer inspection. Sure enough, there, branded into the skin inside my lips, were the four tines of the fork. I had branded myself. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt at all. Not sure how I managed that. I'm just gifted, I guess.
Or something.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Grill Like You Know What You're Doing
I generally feel like a real adult. I mean, I pay bills and go to work and do things like forward my mail when I move and pay for life insurance so my family isn't left with a big bill if I kick off unexpectedly. But in spite of my efforts to be a good adult, I am occasionally caught totally unawares in some area of life that seems like it should be standard for a 32 year old. You know, like charcoal grills.
Tomorrow I'm hosting a cookout for my Bible study group. I've hosted many a movie night, game night, and dinner in my day. I like having people over. But a cookout is new to me. Mostly because I've never had a grill. I still don't, actually, but one came with my townhouse, so I offered to host said cookout.
I'm excited.
I was pretty pleased with myself for thinking to check the grill for charcoal before people showed up at my door with raw meat and potato salad. Turns out that was a good call, because there were about 5 used lumps of charcoal when I looked. I don't actually know how many lumps of charcoal one needs to grill stuff, but five doesn't seem like enough.
So I felt prepared today when I nailed down some plans with my co-coordinator, Stephanie, and she asked if I had the grilling stuff. I said I would be getting charcoal and lighter fluid today. Then she asked about the other stuff.
I give Stephanie my confused look. Other stuff? She says, you know, the metal scraper brush thingy to clean off the nasty left-overs of the previous use? And metal spatulas?
Quiet little bells of recognition start going off in my head. Yah, that seems right.
No. No scraper brush thingy. None of my spatulas are metal.
Maybe we can ask the Stambaughs to bring some? We think they have some. Yah, that's a good idea.
Starting to wonder now about my ability to maneuver the tricky world of grilling, I cleverly think to ask Stephanie about charcoal. I don't know if she has grilled before, but clearly she knows more than I do.
Steph's voice fades as I remember the time my stepmother suggested that I buy baby wipes for my step sister for Christmas, and I nearly had a nervous breakdown in the baby-wipe aisle at Wal-Mart because there were, quite literally, 843 types of baby wipes, and choosing the right type probably matters to someone and I might accidentally give my sweet little niece diaper rash if I choose wrong!?!?! (pause here to calm down. Gemma's butt is fine, as far as I know)
Back in reality, Stephanie is saying she doesn't think the kind of charcoal matters, but definitely get some lighter fluid. Check. I can do this.
After church but before I buy charcoal, I help some friends move, and in the course of spending an hour in the car collecting and delivering her stuff, I tell Rachael about the grilling, and how it seems complicated. Rachael helpfully suggests that Kingsford is a good charcoal brand, and that you can get it with lighter fluid already on it, which is best cause it's faster. Faster seems good. I'm usually starving by the time the meat's ready at your average cookout. I make a mental note.
Finally, full of good info from friends, I arrive at the grocery store. I stumble upon an aisle dedicated to summer cookouts, strategically placed so that I can't possibly miss it. Well done, grocery store. My eyes start to glaze over as I gaze at what appear to be 30 different charcoal choices. The words "diaper rash" start running through my mind.
Before I can start hyperventilating, I notice that there are only two types of lighter fluid. I clutch at this brief reprieve from addressing the charcoal problem. I think I can handle choosing between two things. More expensive, name brand, or cheaper, store brand? Surely one highly flammable liquid is the same as the next highly flammable liquid, right? Right. It is so because I deem it so. I confidently toss a bottle of the cheap stuff into the cart.
But now I'm back to the charcoal thing. How much charcoal do I need? Kingsford or store brand? Why are there so many choices?!? None of them actually said they had lighter fluid on them already; some said they light faster...is that the same thing? If they light faster, do they burn up faster? Will I need more to compensate? And what is "more"? How much do I need to start with? One layer on the bottom? Fill the whole body of the grill? Do I need to add more charcoal in the middle?
I consider calling someone, but realize that I have left my phone in the car. I look around for a man that doesn't seem like a college student. No dice. I stand around for a couple minutes, looking my most-needy, hoping a grocery store angel of charcoal mercy will show up. Crickets chirp.
I sigh dramatically (even though no one is around to notice).
FINE. I find the cheapest bag that still says something about fast lighting and throw it into the cart. This shouldn't be hard. I mean, stuff burns on accident every day, right? How hard can it be to make stuff that's designed to burn, burn?! Surely I'm making this more difficult than necessary.
I return from the grocery store, thankful that my part of the grilling is mostly over. I just have to turn it over to the guys tomorrow, and then sit around chatting with their wives. And chatting with friends is something that I feel very confident about.
Tomorrow I'm hosting a cookout for my Bible study group. I've hosted many a movie night, game night, and dinner in my day. I like having people over. But a cookout is new to me. Mostly because I've never had a grill. I still don't, actually, but one came with my townhouse, so I offered to host said cookout.
I'm excited.
I was pretty pleased with myself for thinking to check the grill for charcoal before people showed up at my door with raw meat and potato salad. Turns out that was a good call, because there were about 5 used lumps of charcoal when I looked. I don't actually know how many lumps of charcoal one needs to grill stuff, but five doesn't seem like enough.
So I felt prepared today when I nailed down some plans with my co-coordinator, Stephanie, and she asked if I had the grilling stuff. I said I would be getting charcoal and lighter fluid today. Then she asked about the other stuff.
I give Stephanie my confused look. Other stuff? She says, you know, the metal scraper brush thingy to clean off the nasty left-overs of the previous use? And metal spatulas?
Quiet little bells of recognition start going off in my head. Yah, that seems right.
No. No scraper brush thingy. None of my spatulas are metal.
Maybe we can ask the Stambaughs to bring some? We think they have some. Yah, that's a good idea.
Starting to wonder now about my ability to maneuver the tricky world of grilling, I cleverly think to ask Stephanie about charcoal. I don't know if she has grilled before, but clearly she knows more than I do.
Steph's voice fades as I remember the time my stepmother suggested that I buy baby wipes for my step sister for Christmas, and I nearly had a nervous breakdown in the baby-wipe aisle at Wal-Mart because there were, quite literally, 843 types of baby wipes, and choosing the right type probably matters to someone and I might accidentally give my sweet little niece diaper rash if I choose wrong!?!?! (pause here to calm down. Gemma's butt is fine, as far as I know)
Back in reality, Stephanie is saying she doesn't think the kind of charcoal matters, but definitely get some lighter fluid. Check. I can do this.
After church but before I buy charcoal, I help some friends move, and in the course of spending an hour in the car collecting and delivering her stuff, I tell Rachael about the grilling, and how it seems complicated. Rachael helpfully suggests that Kingsford is a good charcoal brand, and that you can get it with lighter fluid already on it, which is best cause it's faster. Faster seems good. I'm usually starving by the time the meat's ready at your average cookout. I make a mental note.
Finally, full of good info from friends, I arrive at the grocery store. I stumble upon an aisle dedicated to summer cookouts, strategically placed so that I can't possibly miss it. Well done, grocery store. My eyes start to glaze over as I gaze at what appear to be 30 different charcoal choices. The words "diaper rash" start running through my mind.
Before I can start hyperventilating, I notice that there are only two types of lighter fluid. I clutch at this brief reprieve from addressing the charcoal problem. I think I can handle choosing between two things. More expensive, name brand, or cheaper, store brand? Surely one highly flammable liquid is the same as the next highly flammable liquid, right? Right. It is so because I deem it so. I confidently toss a bottle of the cheap stuff into the cart.
But now I'm back to the charcoal thing. How much charcoal do I need? Kingsford or store brand? Why are there so many choices?!? None of them actually said they had lighter fluid on them already; some said they light faster...is that the same thing? If they light faster, do they burn up faster? Will I need more to compensate? And what is "more"? How much do I need to start with? One layer on the bottom? Fill the whole body of the grill? Do I need to add more charcoal in the middle?
I consider calling someone, but realize that I have left my phone in the car. I look around for a man that doesn't seem like a college student. No dice. I stand around for a couple minutes, looking my most-needy, hoping a grocery store angel of charcoal mercy will show up. Crickets chirp.
I sigh dramatically (even though no one is around to notice).
FINE. I find the cheapest bag that still says something about fast lighting and throw it into the cart. This shouldn't be hard. I mean, stuff burns on accident every day, right? How hard can it be to make stuff that's designed to burn, burn?! Surely I'm making this more difficult than necessary.
I return from the grocery store, thankful that my part of the grilling is mostly over. I just have to turn it over to the guys tomorrow, and then sit around chatting with their wives. And chatting with friends is something that I feel very confident about.
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