Burning Down the House

I caught my oven on fire last week, though I think I might actually be able to blame the husband on this one.

It was almost one o’clock when we made it home from church last Sunday. I was starving, the kid had just woken from her one-hour-trip-home nap, and it was hot. So I found one of those box meals where you pretty much pour the contents into a baking dish, throw it in the oven for a while, and you’re good to go, except…all the small baking dishes for cooking were sitting in the refrigerator, holding leftovers.

Why we didn’t just eat leftovers, I have no idea. But, ack, leftovers? Gross.

Being the lazy person I am, I didn’t dump out the any of the leftovers I knew we’d never eat, clean the dish, and use that for baking my chicken pot pie. No, I found this pretty little heart-shaped ceramic pan my aunt had given us for a wedding present and poured everything in there. It all came pretty close to the top of the pan, but I didn’t think much of it, and put it in the oven to cook for half an hour to forty-five minutes, in which the kid whined—probably hungry—the husband complained about her whining, and I continued to starve…in the heat.

The timer goes off, my stomach rejoices, and I throw open the oven door to find that the evil pot pie had boiled over the sides of the pretty, but worthless, heart-shaped pan and onto the floor of my new oven.

I know, the nerve, huh?

The blond-headed version of Mr. Clean, otherwise known as my husband, thought it needed to be cleaned immediately. So, he pushed that CLEAN button on the oven, thinking that would be that. We did not hunt up the oven instructions that explicitly say, “spills need to be cleaned prior to self-cleaning or they may start a fire” until after we learned that nifty little fact for ourselves.

So, I’m holding the kid on my hip and scooping up lunch—it’s now almost two o’clock by then—when I glance over and see nothing but flames behind the little window on my oven door. Not wanting to put my daughter down in case we have to go all ‘save yourselves!’ I scream my husband’s name—like a banshee, he later described it—and hop around the kitchen, waiting for him to come save the day.

Hey, he's the one that pushed the button in the first place.

My mother used to have the same version of that oven and had told me long ago that once you push the clean button, the door locks and there’s no canceling it until it’s done cleaning. So I’m thinking there’s no way to get in there to put out that fire.

But the hubby starts pushing buttons and manages to open the door. He kept saying something about, “It can’t have oxygen. We can’t give it oxygen.” I wasn’t totally sure what I was supposed to do about that, hold my breath? But somehow he got the fire out, we read the instructions (finally), and the oven has yet to be cleaned to this day.

From there, we had to open all the windows and doors—yes, IN THE HEAT—to clear out the smoke and smell.

And that, my dear blogger friends, is just the kind of cook I am! Aren’t you glad you only know me cyber-wise so I can’t invite you over for a dinner?!

Start your week with hero, MORGAN BINGHAM!

Linda Kage: Since author Alison Henderson has already visited with us before, we decided to interview a charater in her book instead. Please welcome Morgan Bingham, hero in Alison's newest story, A Man Like That. Well, hello there, Morgan. The burning question is...Who IS Morgan Bingham? Describe yourself to us please.

Morgan:Ex-Confederate guerilla, ex-outlaw. I’m a man of few words, a hard man who’s lived a hard life. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I aim to put all that behind me and return to my roots in the Ozark Mountains. If only that little red-haired wildcat will let me …

Kage: Give us a peek into your head. What is one happy memory you have?

Morgan: I don’t have many good memories of growing up. My family was dirt poor trying to scrape a living out of the rocky hillsides. And my Pa … well, I won’t go into that. Leastwise not with ladies present. Without a doubt, my strongest memory is the first time I saw Miss Jessamine Randall coming down the staircase at her best friend’s house. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. She asked me to escort her to her buggy. As I said, I’m a man of few words, and on that occasion the few I have deserted me completely. Holding Jessy’s hand was like touching a live flame. If I saw her every day for the rest of my life, I’d still never forget that first time.

Kage:Okay, now let’s skip to the stuff I want to hear about…this is a romance writer’s blog, after all! Before going into this story, what was your romance life like

Morgan: There was no such thing as “romance” in my life. Before I left home for the army, life in the hills was lonely. The only time I saw anyone outside the family was when I drove to town for supplies every couple of months. The proper ladies seemed just as scared of me as I was of them, and Camdenton was too small to have the other kind. Of course, I did manage to spend an evening or two with a soiled dove over the years, but I don’t believe you could count that as “romance”.

Kage: And now that your book has begun, who’s the woman starring in your romance? And what’s the trouble with her?

Morgan: Jessy Randall is the daughter of the town judge in Weston, Missouri. She’s beautiful and too spirited by half. A real do-gooder. Always interfering. Always trying to save someone, even if they can’t be saved. She ran the Freedman’s Bureau school until a gang of cowards burned it down, and she was too stubborn to admit defeat even as the flaming rafters crashed down around her. I breathed in so much smoke pulling her out of that fire I ended up spending nigh on to three weeks in bed over at the doc’s. Big mistake. While I was laid up, Jessy got the notion to marry me. Now I couldn’t let her do that—not a fine lady like her and a no-good outlaw like me. As soon as I could draw a full breath, I lit out there fast.

Kage: What do you like most about her? And what do you like least?

Morgan: That’s two sides of the same coin. I admire her determination, but her stubbornness makes my blood boil. She’s big-hearted, but sometimes her generosity looks an awful lot like meddling. I guess you could say she riles me up, for better or worse. She’s a force to be reckoned with, that’s for certain. .

Kage: Thanks for stopping by and gracing us with some eye candy--I mean, with your presence. Was there anything else you'd like to add before getting along on your way?

Morgan: I’d like to thank you for inviting me to visit today. I’ve never been too comfortable in the presence of ladies, but you all were most gracious. I tip my hat to you. If you’d like to understand why Jessy makes me so crazy, you can read a bit of our story below.

********************EXCERPT for********************
A Man Like That
by
Alison Henderson

Buy Link: The Wild Rose Press
*********************************************

Jessy took a step forward and slid her arms beneath his jacket and around his waist. “Now aren’t you going to kiss me?”

He grabbed her wrists and threw her hands off him as if she harbored a dread disease.

“Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me?” she persisted. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” Her seductive tone was pure torture.

Morgan scowled and didn’t answer. He had no intention of answering the first question and wasn’t sure about the second. At the moment, it required every ounce of strength and resolve he had to keep from jerking her into his arms and taking everything she offered and more.

He stared down at Jessy’s face in the flickering firelight. Her sparkling eyes beckoned him. Her moist lips parted in invitation. But the same fresh innocence that had always stopped him held him back again.

He could take what he wanted; he knew it. There was no one around to stop him, and Jessy wouldn’t resist. She was crazy enough to think she loved him.

It would be so easy to give in, so easy to forget the past and the future for a few sweet hours in her arms, to forget their differences and lose himself in the generosity of her love. But he couldn’t do it. To take her and leave her would be to steal something more precious than her virginity. He would be stealing the bright fire that formed the essence of her, the fire that had drawn him from the beginning. As much as he wanted her, he prayed for the strength to resist her.


*********************************************


If you're still curious about Morgan's author, here are other places to find Alison Henderson on the web:

Website: http://www.alisonhenderson.com/

Blog/Goodreads: Blog on Alison's GOODREADS page.

(A MAN LIKE THAT is a sequel to Alison's first book, HARVEST OF DREAMS)

Friday Forwards - #28

DICTIONARY FOR WOMEN'S PERSONAL ADS

40-ish = 49
Adventurous = Slept with everyone
Athletic = No tits
Average looking = Ugly
Beautiful = Pathological liar
Contagious Smile = Does a lot of pills
Emotionally secure = On medication
Feminist = Fat
Free spirit = Junkie
Friendship first = Former very *friendly* person
Fun = Annoying
New Age = Body hair in the wrong places
Open-minded = Desperate
Outgoing = Loud and Embarrassing
Passionate = Sloppy drunk
Professional = Bitch
Voluptuous = Very Fat
Large frame = Hugely Fat
Wants Soul mate = Stalker

WOMEN'S ENGLISH:

1. Yes = No
2. No = Yes
3. Maybe = No
4. We need = I want
5. I am sorry = you'll be sorry
6. We need to talk = you're in trouble
7. Sure, go ahead = you better not
8. Do what you want = you will pay for this later
9. I am not upset = Of course I am upset, you moron!
10. You're very attentive tonight = is sex all you ever think about?

MEN'S ENGLISH

1. I am hungry = I am hungry
2. I am sleepy = I am sleepy
3. I am tired = I am tired
4. Nice dress = Nice cleavage!
5. I love you = Let's have sex now
6. I am bored = Do you want to have sex?
7. May I have this dance? = I'd like to have sex with you
8. Can I call you sometime? = I'd like to have sex with you
9. Do you want to go to a movie? = I'd like to have sex with you
10. Can I take you out to dinner? = I'd like to have sex with you
11. Those shoes don't go with that outfit = I'm gay

And finally.....

A recent scientific study found that women find different male faces attractive depending on where they are in their menstrual cycle.

For example, when a woman is ovulating she will prefer a man with rugged, masculine features.

However when she is menstruating, she prefers a man doused in petrol and set on fire, with scissors stuck in his eye and a cricket stump shoved up his backside.