Posts to look forward to in the next few days include all of the topical subjects of the moment. Tomorrow we'll finish our initial house-proofing so you'll be able to enjoy a full update about that later this week. Now that SJ is sitting up and since we are a few weeks into high-chair usage there'll be posts galore coming your way.
First, I'm gonna take you back a few months to November and last Thanksgiving to be precise, for a post that had been erstwhile neglecting in the hand-wringing that went with how long it took me to finally publish the last post.
The day itself had started with all the calm excitement that comes from knowing that the three of us were heading to friends for lunch and didn't have to stress about imminent guests. Great food, great company and no prep- result!
Since we had turkey in the house, guests or no, it seemed only fitting that we should do the done thing and cook our 14 pounder in honour of the day.
Mrs T's valiant attempts to cook the bird we're halted not once, but twice by plumes of black smoke that came billowing from the oven. Not even the sage advice of Adaptive Gram'ma that was sought after the 1st bout of smoke, could do anything to save a repeat performance when the turkey re-entered the oven.
The first time the apartment filled with smoke SJ and I could be found in his nursery, SJ on his changing pad. As it became increasingly clear that the alarm was about to interrupt the calm tranquility of our chilled out- guest-free morning. I realized I had better cover SJ's ears from the impending racket. Mrs T ran in within a few seconds. She swept up the baby and hurried off out the apartment whilst I was left with instruction to turn off the oven and open all the windows. Fortunately, SJ despite having been lying on the changing pad was, in fact fully dressed!
After a few minutes of dashing around letting in the frigid November air, the goal had been achieved- the alarm had ceased. Mrs T and SJ returned from their perch on the building staircase.
Within 30 minutes both the turkey and the smoke had returned to the oven. Unfortunately, only the resident poultry was staying put. This time, clever-clogs over here, decided, in an attempt to rid the apartment of smoke, I should open the window on our (shared, 2nd floor) landing. Before I could get the window to budge fumes from the apartment began to fill the hallway. Within seconds, not only did our apartment alarm go off, it was joined in chorus with the bellowing tones of the building alarm. Fire engines automatically called, the building began to evacuate. Mrs T grabs winter suit for SJ and a coat for herself and out they go, ready (or not, in fact), to coyly explain themselves to our erstwhile pleasant neighbours. (Only kidding, our neighbours are lovely and were very understanding).
It must have taken 15-20 minutes to get the all-clear from the fire brigade. When Mrs T and SJ returned to the warmth of indoors, SJ was exhausted from the cold and the commotion - there was only one thing to do!
As for me - I got an earful from the fire-woman who came to see the cause of all the dramas. Confronted with the half-cooked turkey in its two disposable roasting pans (both had been found to have minute holes in), all she said was 'Don't you think your wife deserves a decent roasting pan!'
Ouch!
Beyond the dressing-down I received from the local fire-fighting services this whole episode raised a troubling problem. When the alarm first went off, unable to carry the baby unaided, all I could do was cover the babies ears from the noise. I ordinarily use one of the stroller, the high-chair or the baby-carrier (Baby-Bjorn) to transport the baby. None of these were to hand when the alarm went off, fortunately Mrs T was. How do I get the baby out the building (stairs n'all) in a hurry, if heaven forbid, I ever have to? For the moment the baby Bjorn should do the trick- still unsure what the options will be when he gets too big for it.
First, I'm gonna take you back a few months to November and last Thanksgiving to be precise, for a post that had been erstwhile neglecting in the hand-wringing that went with how long it took me to finally publish the last post.
The day itself had started with all the calm excitement that comes from knowing that the three of us were heading to friends for lunch and didn't have to stress about imminent guests. Great food, great company and no prep- result!
Since we had turkey in the house, guests or no, it seemed only fitting that we should do the done thing and cook our 14 pounder in honour of the day.
Mrs T's valiant attempts to cook the bird we're halted not once, but twice by plumes of black smoke that came billowing from the oven. Not even the sage advice of Adaptive Gram'ma that was sought after the 1st bout of smoke, could do anything to save a repeat performance when the turkey re-entered the oven.
The first time the apartment filled with smoke SJ and I could be found in his nursery, SJ on his changing pad. As it became increasingly clear that the alarm was about to interrupt the calm tranquility of our chilled out- guest-free morning. I realized I had better cover SJ's ears from the impending racket. Mrs T ran in within a few seconds. She swept up the baby and hurried off out the apartment whilst I was left with instruction to turn off the oven and open all the windows. Fortunately, SJ despite having been lying on the changing pad was, in fact fully dressed!
After a few minutes of dashing around letting in the frigid November air, the goal had been achieved- the alarm had ceased. Mrs T and SJ returned from their perch on the building staircase.
Within 30 minutes both the turkey and the smoke had returned to the oven. Unfortunately, only the resident poultry was staying put. This time, clever-clogs over here, decided, in an attempt to rid the apartment of smoke, I should open the window on our (shared, 2nd floor) landing. Before I could get the window to budge fumes from the apartment began to fill the hallway. Within seconds, not only did our apartment alarm go off, it was joined in chorus with the bellowing tones of the building alarm. Fire engines automatically called, the building began to evacuate. Mrs T grabs winter suit for SJ and a coat for herself and out they go, ready (or not, in fact), to coyly explain themselves to our erstwhile pleasant neighbours. (Only kidding, our neighbours are lovely and were very understanding).
It must have taken 15-20 minutes to get the all-clear from the fire brigade. When Mrs T and SJ returned to the warmth of indoors, SJ was exhausted from the cold and the commotion - there was only one thing to do!
As for me - I got an earful from the fire-woman who came to see the cause of all the dramas. Confronted with the half-cooked turkey in its two disposable roasting pans (both had been found to have minute holes in), all she said was 'Don't you think your wife deserves a decent roasting pan!'
Ouch!
Beyond the dressing-down I received from the local fire-fighting services this whole episode raised a troubling problem. When the alarm first went off, unable to carry the baby unaided, all I could do was cover the babies ears from the noise. I ordinarily use one of the stroller, the high-chair or the baby-carrier (Baby-Bjorn) to transport the baby. None of these were to hand when the alarm went off, fortunately Mrs T was. How do I get the baby out the building (stairs n'all) in a hurry, if heaven forbid, I ever have to? For the moment the baby Bjorn should do the trick- still unsure what the options will be when he gets too big for it.
No comments:
Post a Comment