Dinner at Eight

OK, so more domestic chatter...
I am a good cook.  A VERY good cook.  I have to preface this post with that to save face a bit.  For a recent meal, I caved to popular opinion and purchased a meat thermometer to use on my planned dinner entree. I have to say that I never under cook, or worse, overcook food despite not ever using a meat thermometer, except for that time I got way too drunk on Thanksgiving and cooked the turkey for about three hours more than it needed...(Hello, Domino's?).  But, I decided to use one as I was feeding people who preferred their beef cooked a bit more than me and Man and Boy do, and it was a pretty big roast, so I wasn't exactly sure about the timing.  On the day of my dinner party, I did all the prep work and created an aromatic dry rub for the roast, let the beef sit and relax and warm a bit, and when the time came, put it on the grill.  I know you're thinking "Grilling a Roast Beef?  What, is she NUTS?" but I always cook on the grill; in this case, I treated it like the oven and used a roasting pan for the food.  Anyway, I had tentatively planned on needing to cook the roast @1 3/4 hours.  After it had cooked for one and a half hours, I stuck the thermometer in the roast and checked the internal temperature.  Hmmmm...The temperature was only just around 100 degrees.  That's pretty much raw, so I set a timer for another half hour and re-thought my strategy for appetizers.  I also brought the thermometer inside and tested it under hot water to make sure it worked.  It did.  So after another half hour, I stuck the thing in the beef again and the temperature registered about 110 degrees.  Still a little too rare for my guests, so I left the thermometer in the roast and planned on coming back in ten minutes or so.  Well, when I checked (using a flashlight because it was dark by this time) the temperature hadn't budged, so I let it to cook some more.  And some more.  And then some more.  Finally, I decided to take the damn thing off the heat and bring it inside because it was surely cooked enough by now despite what the thermometer indicated.  I brought the roast into the kitchen and was letting it rest and waiting for the temperature to climb a few notches when I realized that meat thermometer was broken...The glass covering the little dial had melted and 'frozen' the needle at 110 degrees...
Hello, Domino's?

When a Door Closes...

So my friends do it.  Others I hardly know do it and encourage me to try it.  I didn't believe any of them or their tales of newly found freedom and the joyful transformation of the mundane to the extraordinary they so gloriously described.  Man and Boy were highly suspicious and really doubted I could or even would attempt to do it.   But, in spite of their somewhat scathing remarks and jokes, I decided to try it one day when I was home by myself, so I wouldn't be interrupted.  I approached the open doorway to Boy's bedroom with trepidation - this would be the supreme test.  Would I have enough nerve to do it here?  If I could, I knew I could, and would do it anywhere.  I reached out my hand, grasped the door knob, took a deep calming breath and pulled the door towards me until it clicked shut.  There.  I had done it.  I looked around guiltily and turned back to the now closed door.  Phew...I had successfully cleaned Boy's room in approximately 1/10th of a second.  My friends were right!  Now on to the rest of the house...

Running Woman, Part 2

How can I best describe the scene?  There I am; one in a crowd of perhaps 200 people.  We are all dressed in running clothes and adorned with some combination of bells or reindeer noses or antlers or flashing Christmas lights or elf ears or striped socks - there is even a person in a bright red Santa suit standing next to me whose pants seem to be playing Christmas carols.  What was I thinking when I chose this venue, the annual Marine Corps Jingle Bell Run, for my first foray into the world of recreational running?  All but me and maybe four or five others seem to be US Marine Corp active duty soldiers.  It is obscenely early (as in "it is STILL dark out" early and you KNOW how I feel about early morning activities) and I am abjectly TERRIFIED that I will not be able to complete the five kilometers.  I am also terrified that should I by some chance wind up in front of a group of the insanely FIT runners, I will either be a) trampled  or b) forced to run blindingly fast so I don't get trampled by the over-zealous elves and reindeer and possibly even Santa.  The race officials herd us to the start line, explain the route (which I really hope is marked because I am pretty sure to get lost if it's not), point out the HUGE electronic device ticking away which will time us and then there is a shot...I am startled...unaware that yes, that is really how they start a race.  I collect my thoughts, swallow my fear and off I go.  I try to be aware of my pace so that I don't run too fast and get too tired early on, but my fears are realized and there is suddenly a WAVE of soldiers behind me, chanting and ringing bells, each and every one politely yelling "Excuse Me, Ma'am" to me as they pour past me.  We come to a small 'funnel' on the course and I am forced to run as fast as I can to keep out of their way...I look longingly behind me at the safety of the gym, then back at the crush of Marines coming at me quick and I put my head down and just start running like hell.

Finally, the course opens up and I am able to sprint to the side of the column of runners and fight to catch my breath.  As I recover and struggle to regain my rhythm, the song "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" comes into my head, only I hear it as...

"Penny got trampled by the Marine Corps...
Running her first 5K one fine day
You can say she had no business running
But you know she's stubborn and had to have her way.

So she donned all her running gear
And stayed up all the night
To make sure she didn't miss it
'Cause she had to be there before the day's first light

When they found her on the course
After all the others had come and went
She looked up at her rescuers
And said "Y'all are heaven sent"

(chorus repeat)

For the remainder of the race, my idiotic words played endlessly in my head and I laughed my way to the finish line.  I am proud to say I RAN the entire course, not once did I cry and,  hold on to something solid: I finished...next to last place!