Snap, Crackle, Pop

January 13, 2008

I have something today that very few Americans have. I'm actually willing to make a small wager that none of our "regulars" have what I have: a sparkling clean floor under both my range and my refrigerator, accompanied by pristine walls surrounding them. I have not just moved into a new house.

Yesterday, as we took a leisurely start to the day, pre-heating the oven for sticky buns, sipping coffee, and thumbing through the paper, we heard a snap, some crackling, and a pop. I was not serving Rice Crispies.

The heating element in our range had broken (after years of use), causing a smallish fire as the electricity arced across the break trying to complete the circuit. I've seen this happen before, so I didn't panic. Unfortunately, the range of my experience didn't guide me in what happened next. Apparently, the arcing got so hot that the element didn't immediately burn itself out. Instead, if you imagine an incense stick (only 1000 times brighter and about 3/8 of an inch thick. Actually, I think you'd have a more accurate image if you pictured someone welding), the fire followed the path of the element along the bottom of my oven. I turned the oven off. It didn't waver. Walter and I considered what would happen if it made it all the way around to where the element entered the oven: would it just fizzle out or would there be some grander (and less palatable) end. Walter grabbed the box of baking soda (which I handily keep right by the stove), and dumped the contents on the fire. It burned as bright, if slightly more colorfully. I grabbed the fire extinguisher and quickly scanned the label to learn if fire extinguishers worked on electrical fire. Luckily, it had pictorial directions, showing an electrical outlet with tongues of flame and the word OK next to it. I pulled the pin and pumped the contents into the oven. The fire didn't falter. Walter grabbed the fire extinguisher and gave it a more manly quantity. No effect. We closed the oven door again and wondered what would happen next.

For the record, despite all of our grace under pressure, we did not think to un-plug the range or run outside and flip the breaker off.

We waited as the nova-like end of the element ate its own body up. Then, it made another tiny snap, crackle, or pop and snuffed itself out.

Have you ever used a fire extinguisher? They have a variety of contents: the main one ours had was monoammonium phosphate. That's an ingredient in a lot of fertilizers. It's not particularly toxic, but you neither want to eat nor breathe in a lot of it. You really don't want it lying in piles around your kitchen, with a noticeable dusting on your forks and spoons, cookware, and coffee pot. Had the fire extinguisher actually contributed to saving our lives, our kitchen, our range. . .Had the cloud of yellowish haze done anything at all. Perhaps then, we wouldn't have felt so burdened by the massive clean up job facing us as the inside of the oven darkened to its usual cave-like appearance.

Nevertheless, nine hours later, every bit of the yellow dust that clung to the floor and the walls, the inside and outside of the range, nearby cabinets, drawers and all their contents, was gone. All day, I felt like the children in The Cat in the Hat, who tried to get the last of the pink stuff out of the house before mother returned, only to find more of it at each turn. Without the aid of little cat Vroom, we finally ran the dish washer one last time, took the mess of rags and towels to the washer, and left for dinner out.

I have to say, that I try very hard to look at the bright side, and most times its easy. So give me a chance to brag on my clean kitchen. It's small solace, given the myriad of other ways I had considered spending my rare, free Saturday.

Also, Ellen, forgive me for making you all hang fire waiting for the photos from The Trip. With A&M starting classes tomorrow, I had put off updating about Erin's grand time until I had my courses sorted out and set up. Yesterday was going to be the big day. Ooops.

You may remember that Erin had a New Years getaway to Fort Worth on the 2nd through the 5th. I didn't get too many details, because apparently the Benson's hit the road running much like the Buengers do, and don't slow down for much. I think they fit in basketball, swimming, pizza, skating, fairy play, and a museum trip, not necessarily in that order. Here are Erin and Clayton Sue. Their expression says it all. . .something like "will work for fun!"


You non-Texans may not understand what I'm about the explain. In fact, it took Erin twice (or maybe thrice) to splain it to me. One day they went to the Natural Science Cowgirl Museum. Doesn't that just scream Fort Worth? I think the Fort Worth Museum of Science and History is temporarily housing the Cowgirl Museum while it's under construction, but I can't think of a better combo to share digs if you want to encourage young women to think outside the box. Here they are (dare I say this, given the disaster at Buengerville yesterday) building a circuit.


At least Erin understands some of the benefits of actually completing the circuit:

It wasn't all brain food for these girls: