fire-broiled pecans

I almost died today. I was broiling some pecans to put in my pralines when I started to smell the pecans. I thought, oh crap, they’re probably a little burnt. I opened the oven door and AHHHH!!!! Flames! The flames were jumping off the pan. My life flashed before my eyes. I was pretty sure my parents’ house was about to go up in flames. It was awful.

Now here’s the rough part. I didn’t know what to do. Throw water? Call 911? Get the fire extinguisher? I ran to the garage, pulled out the fire extinguisher and took it back to the kitchen. The extinguisher is probably older than me and I had no idea what to do with it. I ran back to the garage and got the gigantic extinguisher my dad probably uses to put out field fires. The pin was already out. I figured it was dysfunctional. I called my mom, not 911. The fire was small, I thought. No need to call the cops. She didn’t understand what I was saying, probably because I was screaming into the phone. “Water? Do I use water?” I shouted. After three tries, I got my answer. Yes. I was supposed to use water. I got the bowl out of the cupboard causing a small finger wound. Then I put it out. I wasn’t dead. I had survived. My parents got home a while later. I got a mini lesson in broiling pecans, fire extinguishers, and how to keep my cool in an emergency.

A few hours later, I started making the pralines again. They kind of turned out. I blame the fire; it put me on edge.

Dayton

It’s the place I grew up.
I called it my hometown.
My parent’s address
My BFF lives there.
It’s where I work.
I love its history.
Joel Palmer, the Block House
Blue Moon at Mike’s Place
Orange slices, chilled glasses
Writing about it
Learning about it
Wanting to leave
Pirates, friends, homework
It’s part of my history.
I like it a bit.
Not sure if I’ll stay
Am here now
Que Sera, Sera

My Little Butterscotch!

I’ve adopted a bunny. It’s true. I came home to “the farm” AKA BBJ Ranch and encountered the cutest bunny I have seen in years. It used to run wild and free, but it ate my sister’s and her neighbors’ berries. My dad caught it and it’s been in a cage ☹ in my parents’ “woods” for the past few months.

It’s mine now. And sure, it’s going to live in the cage for right now and all, but I’m going to treat it like the princess or prince that it is.



That's Butterscotch. Isn't he/she cute? Don't worry. I'm going to figure out what "it" is.

Here’s what I know about my new baby right now.

1. It’s a rabbit.
2. Its name is Butterscotch. (I named it today.)
3. It’s sweet and cute.
4. It has light brown fur, like a butterscotch brownie.
5. It’s sweeter than the other one, the one I call, Lumpy.

So yeah, I’ve found a new pal, a new project. And we’re going to figure out how to build him or her a cute and sweet little home. ☺

homework stuff

Whenever I work on homework, I surround myself with distractions. I don’t know that it’s the smartest idea.

Look at today.
I got home at four. I decided to take a short break and watch something on Hulu. It was the latest episode of Glee. Then, I started to download songs from iTunes. It’s my latest addiction. iTunes can be dangerous to the poor girl’s budget. After iTunes, it was Friday Night Lights (FNL) on Netflix. I’m loving this new show. I have to read the book for a project. The show is great too. The goal is to connect with small town life and be motivated to search for the thing that holds Dayton (Oregon) together. I’m so enthralled with the show that I have a hard time thinking of anything but football. And sure football used to keep Dayton together, but I’m not sure that it still does today. After FNL, I decided to work on homework. I pulled up my word document and typed a little bit. Then, I checked my blog. A friend had left a comment. I went to her website… for half an hour. Then, I had to move on. More homework. First, a little music. Rating songs on iTunes. Working on my laptop in bed. Watching and listening to 30 Rock. Talking to a friend on the phone. Writing this blog post.

So yeah, I’m having a little trouble focusing on my homework.