Cooking Can Be Dangerous

By Lynn Rebuck –

One typical evening, while attempting to cook dinner, I accidentally ignited the oil in the deep fat fryer, grated my knuckles into the carrot salad, and melted part of my thumb onto the 450-degree baking dish.  With both hands bandaged, I scrawled a message in crayon on a grocery receipt and tacked it up over my stove.  It has become my kitchen motto: “Cooking Can Be Dangerous.”

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In Like a Lion…?

By Kathi Macias

March is one of those in-between months that make planning anything nearly impossible. It doesn’t matter where you live—those hearty folks in Alaska or Minnesota, or the wimps (like me!) in Hawaii and Southern California—anything scheduled ahead of time had best be held indoors.

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Indians, Bears, and Strange Noises—Oh My!

By Jodi Whisenhunt

My family lived in the country when I was a child, on a remote mountain in West Virginia. I don’t know the acreage—didn’t occur to me to care as a little girl—but it was forested enough for my brother to terrify me with tales of ferocious bears and rogue Indians. Yes, Indians. In the 1970s.
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Recline in Peace

By Emily Chase

Crack!

My husband plunks down on our recliner and breaks the mechanism.  The chair now has a severe cant to one side.  After years of warning our children not to abuse the chair, my husband has broken it himself.

“Don’t worry, Gene,” I assure him.  “The chair came with a lifetime warranty.”

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Keep on Pluckin’

I have been molting all winter.

For months now, people have been treating me like a Perdue chicken by plucking feathers off of me wherever I go.  It’s the fault of my leaky down-filled coat.  I don my down in mid-September, and remove it in early June.  This winter, though, the down is trying to make an early escape.

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