Hypothetically Speaking…

It MeltedA quick question this morning:

Are the fumes from a melting plastic spatula harmful?

As in – should one evacuate the house if said spatula should happen to melt and fill the house with eye-watering noxious fumes?

Hypothetically speaking of course.

Let’s just imagine that a housewife wakes up late, rushes to get her husband breakfast only to discover that all the metal spatulas are dirty and sitting in the dishwasher that didn’t get turned on the night before.

So she grabs a plastic one. As soon as the egg is flipped out on the plate, she puts the plastic spatula in the cast iron skillet and moves it to the back burner.

Then, after she hands her wonderful husband his lunch and kisses him goodbye, she decided to have a cup of hot tea.

So she fills the tea kettle and puts it on the front burner and turns it on.

While the water heats, she decides to check out Pinterest for a few minutes. A few minutes turns into several because Pinterest is so addicting…and the next thing she knows there is a nasty odor emanating from her kitchen.

She rushes in to discover that she accidentally turned on the back burner instead of the front burner and there is green plastic slime melted all over the cast iron skillet and a cloud of nasty fumes billowing through the house.

Hypothetically speaking of course.

So – other than sitting the pan and melted plastic outside, opening all the windows in the house (despite the fact that it is 50 degrees and sprinkling) and offering the kids hot chocolate for breakfast to warm them up, what else should she do?

And how in the world does one get melted plastic out of a cast iron skillet?

Hypothetically speaking of course.

I never liked that spatula anyway.

Oven Fail

As much as the few weeks of busyness (our very own March Madness!)  has been a lot of fun (and it really was fun -we made so many special memories!) – I have had one irritation.

It has been a thorn in my side for weeks now – but finally put me over the edge yesterday. Yes – I actually slammed doors and threw things.

My stove went on the blink.

It started quite innocently with the large front burner not always turning on. We wiggled it around and called it fixed. Ha.

It continued to selectively turn on the next few weeks.  This became very frustrating with Katie sitting at the breakfast table saying , “Me hungee, me hungee! Eggs Auntie ‘linna?”

But the real problem was with the oven. On Palm Sunday I had 16 people around my table after church waiting for lunch – and the pork roast was raw.

Talk about panic!

I did some quick thinking – then dug out a package of left-over ham in the freezer, thawed it in the microwave, diced it up and tossed in the crock pot of scalloped potatoes.

I called it scalloped potatoes and ham and served it with corn and dinner rolls.

Whew!

I felt heat in the oven – so I knew it was on – but the thermostat must have been wrong. We just ate the pork roast when it was done – at supper time.

The next fails weren’t so easy to fix.

The egg casseroles took forever to cook – as did the coffee cake and peanut butter cupcakes.

But the angel food cake that I baked on Saturday was the most frustrating. It was in the oven for twice as long as the recipe called for and had browned on top when I finally pulled it out and inverted it.

I few minutes later I was talking with my sister on the phone when I turned around and saw that the entire cake had fallen out of the pan and lay in a dejected mass on my counter – the inside raw.

But the straw that broke the camel’s back was yesterday. I put the ham in the oven for Easter lunch and just told the family we would eat whenever it chose to be done. Then we went off to church.

When we arrived home – an hour earlier than usual – my ham was not just done – it was burnt.

The oven decided that instead of cooking at the normal temperature, or lower as it had been cooking, it was going to cook hotter than normal.

My beautiful spiral cut ham was ruined.

I threw my oven mitt down and stomped off upstairs, slamming doors. (So lady-like and mature, I know.)

After I composed myself and headed downstairs, I saw that the kids had finished dishing up lunch for me and were sitting around the table very quietly.

My husband sat down and asked (as he often does) “So – who’s thankful today?”

Nobody said anything.

My husband looked at me and smiled just slightly – I gave in and and replied “I’m working on it.”

The whole table laughed, every one relaxed and we enjoyed a nice – although blackened – Easter lunch.

Today I went stove shopping.

I’ve linked this post up with Myra’s Friday Fails over at My Blessed Life!