We've moved into our new home, mostly. There are still boxes all over the place half unpacked and random items strewn about the floor in just about every room. The office actually looks pretty nice, but it's all the way in the back of the house so no one really sees that upon first entering. I've managed to wash all the bedding and towels from our storage boxes, yes they were clean when we packed them but they smell of storage unit now so they need to be washed. I'll move onto washing all the clothes next. All the dishes have been washed though and that's amazing as far as I'm concerned, we've also opened my flatware! I originally bought a 12 person flatware set when I was getting ready to go to Uzbekistan, because I was anticipating being the one person party committee, but I never got a chance to use my awesome flatware because I moved home to SF to be with Bobicito (hoorays). We didn't bother to unpack the flatware because we figured everything was going to go into storage and his Dollar Store silverware was fine for us.
Well not anymore, we are now real grown ups with pretty silverware that matches. I'm quite pleased. Now if I could just get my mom to give us her blue and white porcelain cantonese dishes we'd be all set....
But let's get to the exciting part of the post, I started a kitchen fire last night. Okay, back to the beginning.... I decided that it was time for us to actually cook in our home so I went to the grocery store and picked up food and snacks for us. I decided that spicy italian chili would be our first home cooked meal, so I picked up all the ingredients, along with salad fixins and garlic bread. I prepped the chili early in the day and let it simmer on low for the rest of the day so all the yummy flavors would mix together. Now jump ahead to about 5:30pm, Bob is on his way home with our friend Jay, and I'm getting the noodles started, and prepping the garlic bread. Suddenly the fire alarms go off, ALL of them. So I'm frantically running around the house with our step ladder trying to turn them off while at the same time opening all our windows and doors to get a breeze in the house. Keep in mind that at this point nothing is on fire. It was during this running about that I also discovered that even standing on our step ladder I'm slightly too short to reach our fire alarms to do any good. By the time Bob and Jay get home I've managed to knock the batteries out of the fire alarms and am back to getting dinner ready. I put the yummy garlic butter on the bread and sprinkle some parmesan cheese on the slices of french bread and then pop them under the broiler. Jay is standing near the kitchen, Bob is fixing the alarms and I'm stirring the chili. I notice that it smells like something is burning so I lean into the chili pot thinking something is burning on the bottom of the pan, hmmm, no that's not it. "Crap!" I open the oven and all the little pieces of garlic bread are on fire - Jay can see this over my shoulder. I close the oven door, turn off the oven and just look at Jay with a "is the garlic bread really on fire" look in my eye. Sadly yes, the garlic bread is on fire. Bob comes back to the kitchen, we hand him an oven mit, and wet a dish towel and put out the mini fire in the oven. Needless to say, there was no garlic bread with dinner last night.
Good news though, I made a cajun turkey sammich for lunch today and managed to not set off our fire alarms.
Loves and kisses,
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