Sunday, May 13, 2012

Another Water Kettle

Or is the term still "tea kettle"? Nontheless, I have just burned up my fifth kettle. Of all the accomplishments in my married life, I can boast how well I burn kettles. It's not so much that I want to, but when I buy one, I make sure there is a whistle attached.  Now the pretty green kettle is a brown with the top eroded like the early eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. At least the handle reminds me of the lovely green.

The above one had a whistle. No matter, it didn't work for me. I think the whistle burned at 90 degrees, for by the time I followed the odor trail I saw why. By then the kettle was sitting emanating 400 degrees, at least. Where was I? Trying to churn out an essay on the computer for a contest on Southern Sin . I was so caught up in my thinking that only when I began to breathe that stinking odor did I look around, take deep breaths around the printer and the computer, expecting one of them  to blow up. Not until all was shut down did the odor continue. Now the house is drenched. The outside air is quiet from all the rain that has poured for two days so nothing will absorb or take away this foul smell. I can't hide the fact that another kettle is gone.

 My weakness around the stove is turning a knob to HIGH, then walking off. Oh, I've burned foodstuffs that I was "warming".My explanation always to my husband is "My mind is so busy that I forgot". I zonk out when I'm writing, and leaving the stove unattended  sounds like dementia. But I'm not suffering from old age, yet. I am not mindful of my responsibilities as a cook because I AM NOT A COOK. I'm NOT A WARMER, either. Maybe I should give up on water kettles and use the boiler. They are cheaper to replace.

Is my Southern Sin  the failure to be honed as a cook?