No, we didn’t do this. We both wore sunblock (Kent wears 50 SPF because he’s a pallid redhead who only burns and I wear 15 SPF because I’m not) but we sure saw lots of crispy critters on the beach Saturday. The most uncomfortable burn we saw was the woman who wore a bikini only the bottom had sort of ridden up to the point that it almost looked like a thong. I think you can guess where she burned. Talk about hot cross buns.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Wither, blister, burn and peel
I wonder what it is about vacationing in exotic or semi-exotic locations that makes people take leave of their senses. I’ve seen this happen way too many times in Hawaii (eight trips and counting) and Jamaica (three trips and longing for more): pasty white tourists who apparently forget that they live in northern latitudes and are now at 21.3114° or 18.1315° respectively. And of course they aren’t pasty white any more, they are fiery, fiery red. The kind of red that makes you wince when you see it.
No, we didn’t do this. We both wore sunblock (Kent wears 50 SPF because he’s a pallid redhead who only burns and I wear 15 SPF because I’m not) but we sure saw lots of crispy critters on the beach Saturday. The most uncomfortable burn we saw was the woman who wore a bikini only the bottom had sort of ridden up to the point that it almost looked like a thong. I think you can guess where she burned. Talk about hot cross buns.
No, we didn’t do this. We both wore sunblock (Kent wears 50 SPF because he’s a pallid redhead who only burns and I wear 15 SPF because I’m not) but we sure saw lots of crispy critters on the beach Saturday. The most uncomfortable burn we saw was the woman who wore a bikini only the bottom had sort of ridden up to the point that it almost looked like a thong. I think you can guess where she burned. Talk about hot cross buns.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Hawai'i redux
We took another one of our quick trips away, this time to Honolulu. We had a blast, but honestly I think I could have a good time hanging out at the most podunk little strip mall as long as Kent was with me. I'll write more about it when I've slept but here's a picture from our room:
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
A close call
This morning around 5 AM, I opened our windows wide to let in the cool air before the day heated up (high in the mid 80s today, completely wonderful if a bit warm). I'd just sat down to drink my coffee when I heard an odd noise. I knew it wasn't Kent and suspected a cat had gotten into something or other.
Well, it was Eddie in the window of the pink bathroom. Actually he was only half in the window since his other half was starting to hang out of the window. Yes, he'd managed to dislodge the pin that held in the screen on the left side. Being a large, 17 pound cat, he didn't have to do much to move the screen at that point.
Thankfully I got him back in the house, although he dug in his front paws on the outside of the window with his long, agile paws. He wasn't pleased and grumped at me to let me know how thoroughly disgusted he was.
We made sure all the windows were open only a couple of inches before leaving for the day.
Well, it was Eddie in the window of the pink bathroom. Actually he was only half in the window since his other half was starting to hang out of the window. Yes, he'd managed to dislodge the pin that held in the screen on the left side. Being a large, 17 pound cat, he didn't have to do much to move the screen at that point.
Thankfully I got him back in the house, although he dug in his front paws on the outside of the window with his long, agile paws. He wasn't pleased and grumped at me to let me know how thoroughly disgusted he was.
We made sure all the windows were open only a couple of inches before leaving for the day.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Glorious weather
And the cats are loving the doors and windows being open. They don't often congregate together like this; usually they are more solitary in their outdoor viewing.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
A tale of two dinners
About 11 years ago, my brother and his wife came over for dinner. Because Kent and I like to cook and experiment with new recipes, we’d decided to try a Food & Wine barbecued chicken recipe that sounded different and intriguing.
The recipe called for the chicken to be baked at 500°F, which is pretty freaking hot. In fact. it was so hot that the glass baking dishes were smoking like crazy and the house was starting to smell smoky. So I thought hey, I’ll just put a little water in the pans so maybe it won’t smoke so much.
You see where this is going, right?
As the water left the measuring cup I belatedly realized that room temperature water in a glass pan that was 500°F was probably not a good idea. Fortunately, the oven door was mostly closed because that pan just exploded. I mean it blew up. And of course the oven got even smokier, and so did the house.
Kent and I started throwing open doors and windows to let the smoke out, and pulled out the non-exploded pan to see if the glass had gotten into it (somehow it had not). In the middle of picking glass out of the bottom of the still incredibly hot oven, the doorbell rang. Doug and Barb had arrived. Barb took a look around and said, “Well I think it’s time to open the wine.” And we did.
Last weekend we had them over again for dinner with my parents, who were visiting us from Idaho. We made chicken again, a dish we’ve made before – only this time we doubled it.
Our pan wasn’t quite large enough to contain all the sauce and chicken, so as it baked (at just 350°F this time), the liquid bubbled up under the edges of the lid and fell to the bottom of the oven where it smoked like crazy. Once again, we had windows open trying to clear the kitchen and the house of all the smoke.
I think the moral of this story is that we should never again make chicken for my brother and his wife.
The recipe called for the chicken to be baked at 500°F, which is pretty freaking hot. In fact. it was so hot that the glass baking dishes were smoking like crazy and the house was starting to smell smoky. So I thought hey, I’ll just put a little water in the pans so maybe it won’t smoke so much.
You see where this is going, right?
As the water left the measuring cup I belatedly realized that room temperature water in a glass pan that was 500°F was probably not a good idea. Fortunately, the oven door was mostly closed because that pan just exploded. I mean it blew up. And of course the oven got even smokier, and so did the house.
Kent and I started throwing open doors and windows to let the smoke out, and pulled out the non-exploded pan to see if the glass had gotten into it (somehow it had not). In the middle of picking glass out of the bottom of the still incredibly hot oven, the doorbell rang. Doug and Barb had arrived. Barb took a look around and said, “Well I think it’s time to open the wine.” And we did.
Last weekend we had them over again for dinner with my parents, who were visiting us from Idaho. We made chicken again, a dish we’ve made before – only this time we doubled it.
Our pan wasn’t quite large enough to contain all the sauce and chicken, so as it baked (at just 350°F this time), the liquid bubbled up under the edges of the lid and fell to the bottom of the oven where it smoked like crazy. Once again, we had windows open trying to clear the kitchen and the house of all the smoke.
I think the moral of this story is that we should never again make chicken for my brother and his wife.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Like peas in a pod
Or rather, cats on a cushion
These cushions are left over from our first POÄNG chair from Ikea. While I liked the fabric cushions a lot, I didn't like how much cat fur they collected. So we got new leather cushions instead. But I felt kind of bad taking away a much-loved cat seat. We've had them in various places around the apartment in Boston, the rental apartment in Overland Park and now here in the Little Yellow House.
These cushions are left over from our first POÄNG chair from Ikea. While I liked the fabric cushions a lot, I didn't like how much cat fur they collected. So we got new leather cushions instead. But I felt kind of bad taking away a much-loved cat seat. We've had them in various places around the apartment in Boston, the rental apartment in Overland Park and now here in the Little Yellow House.
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