8 lbs. 9 ozs  All doing well.   Blessed Day!

Brandon called while I was preparing an early lunch and I went upstairs to get a phone I could hear on and stayed –thrilled with the call!

Unfortunately I had just put crackers in the broiler to crisp when the phone rang and by the time I went back to the kitchen they were on fire ----an impressive sheet of fire which I pulled out, blew at, put back in the oven, thought about before I managed to get out a pair of tongs and the garbage sack.  I removed each black ghost of a rye cracker marveling at the stench that was pervading the whole house.  Metal tongs were excellent for folding over and over the aluminum foil until the fire was out, the foil disposed of and that source of smell closed behind the door under the sink.  I went for the scented candles and lighted one in every room downstairs closing doors behind me, opening doors to the outside, turning on fans.  I retired to upstairs with a plate of lunch (sans crackers) while the candle flames did their work, musing over how one’s To-Do list can change in a flash and the grace of birthing.  Later I went down checking and blowing out each candle.  The one in the kitchen was last and I picked the 3” cylinder out of its tall holder in order to pour the scented melt onto the foil in the garbage sack.


It split straight down one side.  I stood there and stared at it while rather hot wax dripped down my hand, the island, the floor –in fact,  all across the kitchen as I conveyed it to the sink and under, into the stinking sack.  Happily one of Mother’s old silver knives was at hand and scraping commenced.  (Always aim candle wax at stainless steel. Much easier than painted  surfaces)  Bon Ami took care of smoked appliances and I had room to prepare the food for the 6:30 prayer meeting.  I didn’t realize until much later that in my excitement I had neglected to turn off the gas to the oven and that the fire had burned the thermocouple, so the pilot light was out and I elected not to try to re-light it myself since I could still smell gas accumulating and I would rather call those great repair people that work on antique ovens but, of course, that would have  to wait til after Memorial Day -----no problem.  Alicez had brought me a watermelon and my thoughts were full of the deliciousness of Rosalie Victoria – a granddaughter, at last.


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