Hola, my Spanish speaking-friends. If you need a translation-- it's "Fire! Fire!" :) Mmmm-hmmm.
We were right about to have dinner, a friend and her wee little one were coming to join us, and all was right with the world. Well, almost everything. Rachel had finished up the pasta and had thrown the garlic bread into the oven. Naturally, Judah started melting down. To be fair, he hadn't slept save but for 45 minutes all day, and we knew it was coming-- it just happened at a bad time.
Metaphorically speaking, Judah was a bit like the magician's sleight of hand-- nothing really awful, but a distraction from where we should have been looking. By the time I got him calmed down and fed the LJ, it was almost 6pm. Rachel headed downstairs to check her email, and the rest of us waited for our guest.
I started coughing a little and smelled the faintest hint of burning, but a quick check of the pasta showed nothing, so I went back to my 10-grid sudoku puzzle-- a doozy, and again, something that took a little too much attention. Suddenly, there was an acrid smell in the kitchen. It had to be the oven. Opening the door wide, I peeked in and called softly down to the basement. "Rachel," I said, "I think you might want to come take a look at this."
"What is it?" said my lovely wife.
"Nothing much," I said. "But the toast is on fire."
A note to myself in the future-- if I ever need the Queen to come without hesitation, I should use that line. She grabbed two potholders and ran the flaming cookie sheet outside, where they extinguished themselves. Case closed.
"You know what the worst thing is?" she muttered to me after they were finally smouldered out, "I bet they're perfectly done on the other side."
You know what-- they were!! Have a wonderful night!
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