The Magic Oven Drawer

It’s not every day that Clark cooks dinner for me. Not that he can’t, but cooking is something I really enjoy doing so usually I cook and Clark cleans – it works out wonderfully!

Not so long ago, we moved into a new house. It’s a pretty small house, but bigger than our apartment was so it’s a win overall. However, one major flaw in the house is the proximity of the stove to the smoke detector. Without fail, the smoke detector goes off at least once a day. On the bright side, at least we know if there’s ever a fire in our house we will be safe; on the down side, we’re all going slightly deaf and considering throwing the damn thing out (which would then make it all very un-safe).

Finally, we decided that we should run a cleaning cycle on the stove to get rid of cooked on crud; hopefully eliminating the excessive smoke that plumes from the oven on a nightly basis. While we were preparing the oven (removing pans, etc.) Clark asked me how the drawer will get clean.

“What drawer, honey?” 

“The drawer that we broil things in.” 

“Oh, you mean the broiler pan… we can’t leave it in, we’ll use a Brillo pad.” 

“No, the other drawer, the one underneath the oven.” 

At that point I look at the stove, excited to find out we have a hidden warming drawer that I didn’t know about before. Searching for one, I get disappointed. All we have is the storage drawer that we keep extra baking sheets in. 

“I don’t know honey… maybe that was a stove in different apartment.”

 

At which point Clark opens the storage drawer and says “no THIS broiler drawer! This is where I tried to cook something, but it didn’t get hot enough so you took over. Don’t you remember that night?” 

Being a bossy pants, I try and take over every time Clark cooks, so unfortunately I couldn’t recall that particular evening. Frazzled I racked my brain and asked what we had that night. To which Clark replied “I was trying to cook meat but maybe I forgot to tell you that, so you made pasta.” 

“Honey……….. what ever happened to what you were trying to cook in here?” 

“Um…………. Oh…. Whoops.” 

Our entire oven, storage drawer and all received a thorough cleaning that night.

In One Beer - Cheese the Other

Last night while making dinner for Hans and Gigi (after coming home from work of course) I asked Hans (who was milling around in the kitchen enjoying a cold beer beverage) if he would please go to the basement and get me the bag of mozzarella cheese in the freezer, as I needed it for his dinner that I was lovingly preparing -for him by the way, did I mention that part?

"Are you serious?" he asked.

...But Can Your Computer Cook Dinner?

As you may recall from my meltdown about eating at the table, I never played video games or watched TV as a child. As an adult I have discovered TV and love it, but I absolutely get tired of sitting in front of it and more often than not when "my show" is over, the TV goes off and I go about my business - whatever that may be.

Clark is the opposite.

My dear husband could play video games until his eyes rotted out of his head, and then wold insist on installing special braille keyboards, joysticks, controllers and the like, so that he could continue demolishing the online world of aliens and communists. He has logged so many hours playing video games that I think he may actually have some stock options associated with Xbox, Best Buy and possibly EA Games. When his duty station was changing he left his $2,000 gaming computer behind "because it crashed" and bought a new $1,000 one overseas which he told me was a real bargain and might need some upgrades (which is did not, has not and will not). The former works perfectly and is now residing at my parents house; the latter sits on my ottoman when not in use.

The Table: A Lesson in Patience

Growing up, my brothers and I sat at the dinner table every night with my parents. This was not a choice it was a rule that was only broken on the very rare occasion that we had friends sleeping over or lots of family over for a holiday (and in the case of holiday parties we were still expected to sit at a table, just in another room...)

Now, as a twenty-something wife and "someday mother," I have come to appreciate the kitchen table and understand why this place was so important to my parents. In this world of non stop electronic humming - from phones, computers, TVs and video games - the table is the last place in the house where a family of two (or ten) can sit, talk, relax and do all of this while actually looking at each other (I didn't make this up, check out this post on the Integrated Mother). This rudimentary piece of furniture has the potential to rebuild the grounds for communication, love and family. It is a tool that no family should be without and all families should gather at at least once a day, if only for a cup of coffee.

So why on earth would I consider turning the table into my own personal bonfire?