What To Do In Case Of Fire

Who would have predicted that less than an hour after uploading yesterday’s post I would be present for an actual fire? 

 

After getting a late start to the morning, Son-In-Law (SIL) and I tag-team breakfast.  He makes the bacon, I make the eggs.  I have never seen anyone make bacon in the oven but that’s how they do it so I decide to watch and learn.  There is some back and forth discussion between SIL and Daughter about the correct temperature to put the oven on.  (I believe they decided on Broil.)  He lays the bacon out on a cookie sheet and puts it in the oven.  After 6 minutes, he takes it out to flip it over.  This is my cue to make the eggs. 

While I cook, I watch him make critical decisions about which piece to place where based on the level of doneness from round 1.  I like my bacon extra-crispy which he is made aware of.  He makes his final placements and it goes back in the oven.  The eggs are done so we sit at the table waiting on the bacon. 

 

Daughter says, “It smells like the bacon is burning.”

I say, “Well, we said we like it extra-crispy.”

SIL says, “It isn’t burning, it’s on fire.”  Very calmly I might add.

I can see from my seat that he isn’t kidding.  The inside of the oven is engulfed in flames that are getting larger by the moment. 

 

“Do you have a fire extinguisher?” I ask.

“Oh, yes we do!” SIL says and gets it from under the sink.

“Use those firefighting skills you learned Honey!” encourages Daughter. (Daughter and SIL are in the Navy and learned firefighting during bootcamp.)

 

A couple of squirts from the extinguisher later and a crisis is averted.  The main floor and upstairs of the house is filled with smoke so the baby is taken to the basement where the smoke isn’t bad (it’s cold outside) while SIL and I open all of the doors and windows.  It takes several minutes to get the smoke detectors to stop.  On the bright side, at least we know they work.

 

There is residue of extinguisher blowback on everything in the kitchen, including the eggs I made.  I grab my shoes, take orders and book it down to McDonalds, making it there 5 minutes before breakfast ends.  Waiting in the drive-thru I reflect on how proud I am of everyone for not panicking.  I don’t think my daughter even moved from her chair until the fire was already out. 

 

Back at the house, they are cleaning when I return and the smell of burned bacon permeates everything.  Grandbaby never wakes up during this, not during the fire, not during the ensuing alarm, the jostling to get her out of the room, or while the vacuum is running to clear the main part of the foam from the oven (“I found the bacon!”). 

I can’t help but wonder though if Grandbaby will grow up with an aversion to the smell of oven-roasted bacon. I think it will be with them all a little while longer.

SIL and Daughter also blogged about this event.  Check out their stories here and here.

Roundabout

I have now been to Washington D.C. twice and have seen nothing a normal person would see.  No president, living, dead or immortalized.  No famous house.  Nothing but hotels and a restaurant that was once on the Rachel Ray show where I had a fantastic piece of salmon.

Truthfully, I’m not sorry I missed the sights.  Leaving D.C., I was concerned I would never make it out and would be forever lost in the maze of roundabouts required to navigate this city.  I despise roundabouts.  I don’t care what people say about the greatness of them and their ability to control traffic.  They are only great if you are familiar with that particular roundabout and know exactly how to maneuver it to enter and exit in the proper place.  D made the drive in and I made the drive out and both of us did it wrong. 

The GPS lady said, “Take the 4^th exit at the roundabout.” 

“Fourth exit!  How can there be more than 4 exits?  In the one at home there are only 4 total!  How many exits will there be??” 

Poor D was so frustrated by the situation he finally cried out, “We have to be at the hotel now!”

When we finally reached the hotel, we had to stop on the way to our room to read this:

Good thing we read that BEFORE a fire broke out because that font is really small to read with smoke stinging your eyes.  And who ever heard of a fire alarm that doesn’t call the fire department?  The nearest alarm that contacts the fire department is on 24^th M Street?  What does that even mean, are there 24 different M Streets?  How many roundabouts are there between here and there?  If the answer is more than zero, I think we might be at the wrong hotel.

UPDATE:  About an hour after this post went up a fire broke out at my daughter's house where I am staying.  Tomorrow I will tell you how we all stayed calm, fought the fire and still had time to get breakfast at McDonalds.

Bread Crumbs

D left yesterday.  I started the work segment of this trip so it was time for him to go home and get back to work himself.  It was odd coming back to the hotel room last night and being alone for the night.  Fortunately, he left me some bread crumbs to help me find my way back home later this week.

The first one I found right away, it was in plain sight as I walked in the room.  The second I found on the desk when I set my things down.  Then I got curious…were there others, surely there were, but where?  I looked in the bedroom, nothing on the bed (I even moved the covers and pillows around to make sure I didn’t miss it).  Nothing in the bathroom.  So only 2…I feel strangely deflated.

Getting ready for bed, I find #3 in the drawer with my clothes!  There are more!  #4 turns up on top of the suitcase in the closet.  I put them all in my laptop bag to take with me. 

I hope I found them all, if not, the cleaning lady will get a surprise.  Would it make her smile?  I hope so, I certainly did.

There is only one thing left to say today:



Charm City?

Last time I was here, I woke up and couldn’t lift my chin or turn my head side-to-side.  I did manage to drive to my customer’s location – not an easy feat in my condition – and they find me a chiropractor that happens to be next door.  It helps, but only a little and I must lean way back and turn my whole body to look at the people in my class. They are very understanding but it is both painful and embarrassing.  On the way back to my room, my husband calls to tell me our daughter hit an industrial mailbox in his truck.  She is okay and the truck is drivable but it is our first wreck experience with a teen driver. A traumatic event for all involved, especially me since I am not there to console (and there is more than one person who needs consoling).  The very next night he calls to say the stereo was stolen from the same truck while parked outside the restaurant where our daughter works.  I went straight to my hotel room and went to bed.  Maybe a second go at it will help me find the charm I missed last time in this city.

So D and I decide to give the new parents a break from our constant presence at the hospital to do a little sightseeing in Baltimore.  We find a Barnes & Noble right away, a good sign because finished his other book and has nothing to read.  While he searches around, I look at a book on Baltimore and make notes about some places to go.   I get a few magazines, he gets Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Slayer and everyone is happy.  We walk around the waterfront but it is cold and we aren’t really dressed for it.  Also, we could see a lot of these places at home…Planet Hollywood, Urban Outfitters, Dick’s Last Resort.  D stops to ask someone for touristy ideas and where to find a Yeungling since he can’t get one in Texas:

We learn that you can rent boats for harbor tours but decide against it when we get close enough to inspect the equipment:

We decide to move on and go to Fells Point to have lunch.  It is supposed to be this really cool neighborhood with shops and restaurants and bars. 

I wrote down Du Claws from the book at B&N, a brewery specializing in seafood.  This is perfect, I want seafood and D wants a brew.  We drive around and around, no Du Claws.  We park and walk around hoping we missed it but no.  The address now belongs to The Bond Street Social Club.  Hungry (me), thirsty (him) and cold (both of us), we go in.  We know right away we are in the wrong place.  Lots of hip 20-somethings hang at the bar, drinking, laughing and talking too loud.  D and I are not hip and are not 20- or even 30-something.  The hostess, quickly sizing us up and recognizing that we are lost, escorts us to another area of The Social Club.  There seems be some age segregation going on in this establishment.  This section contains maybe 5 tables and another bar but the 4 people at this bar are all over 40.  The only menu is for brunch with several strange creations I know immediately D is never going to eat.  The music is not our style and is so loud we can barely carry on a conversation.  We stay and eat something since we don’t know what else is out there but we can’t leave fast enough once the check is paid.

There are more restaurants and bars than shops here so mostly we just stay on the street.  As we walk around Fells Point we spot The Horse You Rode In On Saloon and decide to go in.  This is more like it!  A waitress goes by with what looks like frozen Ore-Ida tater tots fresh from a well used Fry Daddy.  D has a beer and I have a coke and we enjoy some serious variety from the live musician – Jim Croce’s Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown followed by The Doors’ Don’t You Love Her Madly.  The menu tells us this is the “oldest continually operated saloon in North America” and claims that Edgar Allen Poe had a drink here on the night he died.  The music is good and not overloud but I notice D limping when he gets up and his pants are about to fall off his non-existent ass so I declare it time to once again leave Baltimore behind.

I can't see Texas from here...

About an hour later, I am suspicious that I won’t easily get over the Crab Cakes Benedict I had back at The Bond Street Social Club, and I don’t mean that in a good way.  At the hotel they come back to haunt me again and again during the evening and throughout a very long night.  The ambiance was terrible and the service was marginal but it is definitely the food I never forget. 

Why you should leave your spare keys at home

7:30 a.m.  D is snoring.  I have been awake on and off for a while but am enjoying the extra time in bed this morning.  Until my cell phone rings.  The number comes up as “Restricted” but since I am away from home I feel I have to answer.  It is my house/dog-sitter (S) back in Texas where it is 6:30 a.m.

S:  Do you have an extra set of keys to your car?

Me:  I have a set in my purse, here with me, why?  Did you lock my keys in the car?

S:  Yes.  (I am sitting up now and D is awake and has taken his earplugs out.)

Me:  Is it running?

S:  Yes.  What if I put a potato in your tailpipe?

Me:  I don’t think you should do that.  (I am fully awake now.) Wait a minute…it is not supposed to be possible to lock the keys in my car.

S:  Really?  Let me recheck the doors.  Passenger side door, locked.  Driver side door, locked. Car, running.

Me:  I am telling you, the car is designed to prevent this, I have even tested it.  Did you use the key to get into the car or the clicker?

S:  I used the key to open the passenger side door then I reached across and put the keys in and started the car.  Then I accidentally locked the door when I got out.

Me:  So you found the only possible way to bypass the features designed to prevent this.

I didn’t ask why she would be starting the car from the passenger side of the street at 6:30 in the morning.  In my car, it is not possible to use the clicker to lock the door or manually push the lock down on the driver side if the key is in the ignition and the car is in Park. D says they have a saying in his industry that covers this:  You can try to idiot-proof something but then a better idiot will come along.  A couple of hours and a locksmith later and the situation is resolved.

Last time she took care of the dogs for us she managed to lock them in our master bedroom and lock herself out.  Luckily we had a key hidden and I remembered where it was.  The fact that we have a keyed lock on the master bedroom door is a story for another time.

Day 2: Knoxville to Severn, MD via Bethesda

So once again the GPS lied to us.  Seven and a half it said.  We left Knoxville at 10:30 a.m. and arrived in Bethesda, MD at 8:30 p.m., 10 hours later.  So far the theme of this trip would have to be "Rain and Wrecks".

It rains steadily for the first 8 hours of our trip and once again we end up at a dead stop on the highway.  No getting out of the car this time unless you need a shower while you wait but it was a good time for noting today’s one-liners:

• So I guess technically, we’re in the car.
• The biggest difference between Las Vegas and Pigeon Forge (TN) is the shows.
• This rain isn’t helping the fact that I need to pee.
• Opening the sunroof in the rain probably isn’t a good idea.
• I wonder why you haven’t got my text message yet since I am sitting right next to you.
• If I close my eyes, I can watch it.
• That car has eyelashes.
• A little bleeding might help.
• I don’t even want veggies on my burger…why would I eat a burger made of veggies?
• If you pee in that seat you’re driving the rest of the way.

At one point, technically still in the car, I look over and this is what I see:

D is watching a movie on his iPad while holding it suspended at chest level because “he can see his own reflection” when it is flat on his lap.  In my head I think, “he needs to use the pillow as a table”.  Out loud I am forced to say, “we left the pillow at the hotel”.  Yes, that pillow.  The one we fought about the day before.  After going back for it at home, one of us – I won’t say who since that isn't really important to the story - left it at the hotel in Knoxville.  Here at the hotel in Maryland we have plenty of pillows.  Four on my bed, four on his. 

Two days and 1358 miles later, we reach our final destination.

Grandbaby #2!  Little Mama is no puny thing!  I love fat, substantial babies!  If anyone needs gift ideas for this girl now or in the future I can suggest this with a fair amount of confidence:  Hair products.  This child is going to have one massive head of hair.

What I read on the plane in the car:  Nothing, I did most of the daylight driving.
What D read in the car:  Kill Shot by Vince Flynn

Day 1: Dallas to Knoxville

When we originally decided to drive to Baltimore we knew we would need two days.  The “halfway” point was chosen:  Knoxville, Tennessee.  D swears it is 10 hours from Dallas to Knoxville.  I believe it will be 12 based on the maps I look at.

We leave Dallas at 10 am after having our first – and thankfully – only fight.  Something about who was at fault for leaving the pillow behind.  We arrive in Knoxville at 2 am.  This didn’t help:

This wasn’t your garden variety construction slow down.  This was a dead-stop-put-the-car-in-park-get-out-and-commiserate-with-the trucker-behind-you event.  Even taking this into account, something went horribly awry in our calculations.  I was not happy to be in the car so long and around Memphis (8 hours down) I started having a hard time being still in my seat, a fact not lost on my traveling companion.  To entertain myself, I started noting some of the best one-liners from our conversations in the car:

·       I really hate when I get lip boogers.

·       I hope a bird doesn’t fly over and crap through the sunroof.

·       You can’t see for shit.

·       That made me dizzy.

·       Oops, my pants almost fell off.

·       I have to cross my legs when I cough so I don’t piss myself.

·       I found the ladybug!

·       She sounds like that Sarah Bareass chick.

D started scrutinizing my fluid intake, or I should say my lack of fluid intake, before we were out of Texas.  Final tally?  D = 102 oz, Me = 16 oz.  Shorter drive today – under 8 hours in theory – so I can probably make it on about 6 ozs.  It should be noted we only counted what was consumed IN the car…we didn’t include our two meal stops.

What I read on the plane in the car:  What On Earth Have I Done? By Robert Fulghum