Just wrap me up with yellow tape and stand clear. I didn’t mean to do it! I just went out to my tiny garden to pick some rosemary and smelled my lavender, which deserved a close of the eyes for a “breathe and know” moment. The lavender began to smell like smoke. I run into the kitchen. Here’s my new wrought iron skillet on the stove burning with smoke everywhere. “Where’s my extinguisher…flour?” No water! The side door is close enough. I grab a potholder, and out the door goes the pan. I was so heroic! Then, I totally freaked out.
I called my sistah friend, Lois. She told her husband, Billy, and he came over to make sure I had not burned my house down. There was smoke everywhere, but not enough to call my insurance company to get some new stuff like at my other house years ago. (Shut up, y’all). We opened every window and door, and before long, I was back in action. The next week, Billy sent over two extinguishers. Hmmm, ‘wonder where they are… I’m just kidding. I do know where one is. More importantly, why didn’t the smoke alarm go off? Could it be because I/you get so sick of it going off all the time till you move it to where it can’t beep when you light a candle? What?!!
So one Christmas night, the kids and I were standing in the kitchen talking and waiting for the food to finish cooking in the oven. All of a sudden, the front fiberglass on the front of the stove explodes. Thank goodness, it didn’t hit us. What happened was the guy who worked for me tightened the screws in my oven door, and the torque was too tight. She exploded. I bet you think we didn’t eat that food. Think again. What!!
I don’t mean to make light of this. (Lord, don’t mention light). I set timers every time I cook. I also take cues from my mom about looking down when I walk. At a family reunion, I had to rush to get into a photo. But there was a deck…and I had to hurry. There I was in front of all my deceased husband’s family, and Mr. K. sprawled, hands and face down on the deck. When everyone was worried, I pushed up with my hands and yelled, “Safe!” They tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. I was laughing too until that night. (I Hurt!)
Sometimes you gotta laugh, but not before you do all you can to stay safe. Set them alarms; signal your cooking; when ironing, don’t get distracted and end up with a big iron mark on your top. Who did that? Yellow tape, please.
During this season, there are things beyond our control, but there are also everyday workings during which we can be aware and present. Our safety is worth more than a multi-task. We are worth our care; we are miraculous.
“All is good/God/Love” -Victorine
© 2020 Camp Goldston LLC – All Rights Reserved
4 Replies to “Danger Zone”
Humor always helps me. I just laugh when I miscount steps and do a Simone Biles tumble. Glad to know there a legion of graceful folk learning to navigate the safe places with hard hat , knee and elbow pads. ✊🏾
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cute article. I can just imagine the look on your face when you took your “deck dive”. 😳
You had to talk me off the ledge!
After a lifetime of caution, I now find that new safety methods need to be thought out on an almost constant basis because the mind does not work as effectively as it did during my first seventy four years.
Old dogs don’t be afraid to incorporate new safety tricks into your ongoing battle to keep yourself “SAFE”!