Well, today was a bit of a topsy-turvy semi-disaster.

Plan for today: bake cookies. I really didn't want to bake, but it was the only way I'd get the cookies. So, sleep until eight, then bake, and also wash the towels.

James texted me at 7:30 that he couldn't get the power chair off the lift at work. It worked fine when he left, but the rubber flap that covers the controls has come loose, and there was a dense, dense fog outside. He figured the contacts that run the chair had gotten wet. So he limped in and soldiered on. In the meantime, I'm thinking, oh, no, not again. First the truck, then the computer... (For the record, the fog dissipated, James checked the chair at lunch, and it worked fine. He'll have it looked at next week.)

So I was up at 7:30. Once I'm up, first comes nature's call, and then comes my stomach chiming in claiming it's starving to death. Straightened a few things out, then began to prepare to bake. At one point I went downstairs to see if we had any canola oil. We didn't, but I found a bottle of hearty burgundy in the pantry closet, after having a reminder on my Google calendar all year that I had to buy a fresh bottle of wine this year (which we did last weekend). I felt just like Ruth in "Lassie's Gift of Love" when she finds four potatoes in the oven instead of three. Finally I had all my ducks in a row—and just enough canola oil—when I realized I had one tiny problem: where was the corkscrew for the wine bottle? We use the damn thing once a year, for my cookies, and the rest of the time it's hung up on a hook with the meat thermometer, where it's been since we moved into the house.

Guess where it wasn't today.

I searched all the drawers (there are only three) and even on the baker's rack, then put on a pashmina and went off in a huff to Kroger where I found corkscrews...with the beer. Well...okay. I got one with a red handle so it would be easier to see.

So I didn't start baking the wine biscuits until 11:30. I rotated the trays, and the stove performed flawlessly. This year I didn't burn the bottoms of some of them; it's silly anyway. I took the first batch out after 46 minutes and let the second batch cook about ten minutes longer. The convection cooked them nice and easy; the second batch was more dense, the second still a little soft inside, but they both taste good.

I shoved all the baking things in the dishwasher, cleaned up the kitchen and cleaned off the side of the dining room table where I mixed the dough, and then settled down on the sofa to have some milk. I found an interesting British documentary called Legends of Santa on Amazon Prime, narrated by Richard Attenborough. I really enjoyed it, but lack of sleep caught up with me when it ended, about 4 p.m. and I fell asleep on the sofa, only to be woken by James (again...LOL) telling me he was stopping for gas on the way home.

Thus awakened, I decided to take the newly-washed baking board back into the bedroom (it lives in the master bedroom closet, since there's no room in the kitchen). Now, I run the fans in the bedroom every day to air out the room, and they were going strong when I entered. So was a horrible smell in the room: it reeked of natural gas!

I rushed back into the main part of the house; no smell. Ran down the stairs and opened the front door: it was indeed from outside. Was Miranda and Eddie's gas meter leaking? Or was it ours? I ran back into the bedroom to confirm it was indeed gas I smelled, then called 911. The operator told me that apparently they did some type of "controlled release" of the odor they put in natural gas while doing maintenance on the gas pipeline in Paulding County. The wind blew the scent to Cobb and South Fulton Counties. So everything was okay, and I turned the fans to vent out and closed the door and kept an eye on Snowy. But that was...scary.

The rest of the evening was a bit more normal. James made the little thin steaks I got at Publix with teriyaki rice as a side into a nice dinner. We watched Wheel and Jeopardy, and then I put on Friday's two episodes of Hawaii Five-0. Well, I think Steve has paid Danny back for the loan of half a liver. 😀

One more thing had to happen, though: I'd recorded a Moody Blues concert off PBS a few weeks ago for James. I put it on after we got done with Christmas on Oahu (and Junior officially being part of the team), and it turned out to be the end of a Pavarotti special followed by a Graham Nash special. Well, gee, thanks, GPB. And a Merry Christmas to you, too.

Labels: baking, Christmas, disappointments, emergencies, events, shopping, television

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 11:19:00 PM

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