I am certain that all of you, being intelligent and creative people, could come up with a myriad of kitchen disasters to haunt my nightmares. Burnt pies. Dough on the floor. One ingredient mysteriously goes missing and there is no time to go to the store because you promised this to somebody YESTERDAY. But this. This beats them all. Because it happened. Actually, they happened. On the same day. At approximately the same time. I'm surprised I lived to tell about it. What happened?
The refrigerator croaked. Our water main broke.
Yes, that was my Tuesday. After much coaxing, several arguments with certain parties, and one kind repairman, the refrigerator was resuscitated. (Actually, the wheezing noises it was making as my milk spoiled really did make it sound as though is was coming back from the dead.) Seems that refrigerators weren't made to withstand temperatures above 80 degrees in non-air conditioned houses for extended periods of time. The fact that I use the stove, which sits immediately beside it, at regular intervals can't be helping the poor dear's health either.
The water main line? Oh, that was the gas company's fault. Seems we had a leak down the street, and they hit the line digging up the leak. According to one neighbor, they do this every time they come out here. How did I discover that the water was off, you ask? Well, see, err...it's kinda embarrassing but I flushed the toilet and it just sort of...gurgled...and halfheartedly did its thing and then I turned the handle on the sink and stared dumbfounded at it as it did nothing but putt putt putt-ed. I would still be stuck in there if it weren't for a little thing called bottled water. Most expensive hand-wash ever.
So that's why you STILL don't get any recipes. Didn't I cook today? I plead the fifth. Instead, I'd like to share a few pictures to whet your appetites for things to come:
Yes, all of these were made right here in this little kitchen. Maybe, just maybe, if you ask ever-so-nicely, I will tell you how I did it. Which one did we have for dinner tonight? Actually, tonight we had these:
Be jealous. Be very jealous.
The long and short of it is that I read too many food blogs. Also, my husband is an enabler. I said, "I could do that!" and he said, "I've got your blog picked out for you!" and so I had no choice.
But why the Kitchen Mouse? There are two stories behind the name, actually, but now I will just start with the older one.
When I was 13, I was home alone one day after school (where everyone else was I really don't remember because it was still bright out and yet I never, not once, was picked up from school by anyone but Mom - mostly - or Dad, so the whys and wherefores of the set-up for this are up in the air). I was in the family room at the back of the house and I heard what I swore sounded like, well, golf balls bouncing in the garage. *poink* *poink* You know, the sound a golf ball makes on concrete. So I freaked out a little bit and sat there absolutely still and just listened (a lot like a scared little mouse, as I think back on it) pretty much until Mom and/or Dad got home, and then I told them exactly what I told you - that it sounded like someone was bouncing golf balls in the garage! My family being what it is, it was only a hop, skip, and a jump to the idea of mice playing golf in the garage.
That night, my Dad drew his usual dry erase picture on the dry erase board that I had been given for my birthday, only this time it wasn't just me doing something from my day. Instead, the whole board was taken up by nothing but the top half of a mouse head and its ears peeking over the edge. The caption went something like "Jessica heard mice playing golf in the garage today!" I'm constantly being picked on (*sniff sniff* yes, thank you, I accept your sympathy), so I played along and said that yes, the mouse was my friend and his name was Hubert (don't ask why, I don't know). From then on, Hubert became a regular feature on my board, although not always with his golf clubs. Sometimes he brought along friends, notably girl mice with bows between their ears. So ever since I have become attached to mice, not only the dry erase Hubert but also one that is about three inches tall and wears a Denison University T-shirt and another that is about eight inches tall and brown. But here, for your pleasure, is the real, live thing:
This, folks, is Hubert, much as he appeared the very first time on my board, and now the very first time on my blog. But I know what you are thinking! But what's the POINT? What will this blog even be about? Well isn't it OBVIOUS? It's a food blog! There will be recipes! So, um, where are they now? Well...fine, I'm getting to that. But really, you ought to stick around. There will be some doozies, and for those of you who know the baking and cooking genes that seem to run in my family, you might just find some (only some, mind you) of those secrets here.
