'Tis the season for many things, but who could've guessed that lame ducks would be such a part of it? I started to think about them (the ducks) in early November. A lame duck is, at least politically, "an elected official who is approaching the end of his or her tenure, whose successor has already been elected."
Ow. That sounds so deflating.
After the November elections, experts were quacking all over CNN and FOX, and I started to think about the life cycles of lame ducks. Then I began to see them everywhere (not hallucinogenically, smartypants). When you substitute other things for the "elected" language in the definition, we're wobbling.....on the brink of being overrun by lame ducks. They're everywhere! Either because the Constitution creates them, or pop culture. Or technological, scientific, and engineering advances, or market forces, or our own requirements. Or something else entirely. Lame duck hairstyles, fashions, wives, phones, diets, boyfriends, teen idols, extraterrestial life theories, relationships, causes, policies, best-in-show breeds, last season's Dancing with the Stars winner, curfews, values, cars, economic theories, Oreo flavors, CSI Miami/New York/LA/Akron?, global warming theories, more TV entertainment, heart disease treatments, Beyblades, disease prevention theories, Brangelina and Jen.....
Good Lord. How did this thought trail start? But it did, and it continues with...
Football. In this area we've been following the interactions of two local college football powerhouse head coaches (okay, Pitt is a powerHUT), and their soon-to-be successors. Awkward. The West Virginia University coach (Bill Stewart, who I met on the best first date ever....but that's a different story!), was asked to introduce the man who will take his place next season, and pin his own WVU logo onto his replacement's lapel. Very awkward...a little like what I imagine the wife and the mistress meeting would be, but without a ring exchange. The lapel is also a potentially dangerous area. There's a crucial artery right there, for crying out loud. The new WVU head coach's name is Dana, which might be a little confusing down there in Morgantown (kidding! love ya WV!) How Mr. Stewart's WVU pin didn't end up in Dana's pupil or common carotid might just be, a minor Christmas miracle.
Occasionally, the lame ducks don't just avoid homicide charges. They make good.
Occasionally, the lame ducks don't just avoid homicide charges. They make good.
The 111th Lame Duck Congress just closed, and surprised most politico talking heads by being much more productive than 46 graduate students cramming Pamela's for breakfast on the last day of finals. There wasn't a lapel-pin transfer ceremony to be found. Not surprisingly, the only Congressional lame ducker in danger of being stabbed by anything was Nancy Pelosi, but she's now got Steven Spielberg to "re-brand" she and her Party. That might lead to a John Williams soundtrack and Pelosi-Reid bobblehead dolls, but omigosh, why not?
So are you really thinking at this point...hmmm, this is all vaguely interesting and a little weird, but what was your real point, Girl? That is.....
Uh,
Sorry, oh yes. Lame duck appliances. Potentially as lethal as Bill Stewart at a lapel-pin ceremony. Two unfortunate appliances both came with this home. The first is an archeologically significant microwave oven that almost fits a Volkswagen Mini (for those folks who like to microwave funky things, just because). The next is an equally ancient yellow Sears Kenmore electric range and oven. In its defense, two of its four burners have never worked, and it cooperated when I replaced the baking element a few years ago. These two workhorses have gotten us through 3,263 meals without sickening anyone, but recently they've gone above and beyond old and unpredictable to a level of malicious intent.
It's partly my fault. I openly spoke of their upcoming "rotation" with Dan the kitchen man, while leaning on the oven. Dan is steadily helping to update a few things, including replacing the decrepit appliances. So while planning, Dan and I should have either used sign language or texted each other when talking about the sexy new, stainless replacements, because the originals....
Have revolted. A little like menacing HAL 9000 in "2001: A Space Odyssey." This was fine, because you know what happened to HAL 9000. And as a feisty soul I was ready for a little battle in a "no major commercial appliance will get the better of me" kind of way. Especially during Christmas week. So bring it, crusty avocado yellow mid-century Sears domestic apparati!
And they have.
The old microwave was first (but last now....haha). A week or two before being disconnected it started to withhold, so the only way the buttons worked was to punch them repeatedly with an electric cake beater. Which was actually kind of therapeutic (....or naughty, in some quarters). But when the buttons worked the 'wave' randomly spewed and exploded various food items, painting the inside of the oven. Either way, anything I sent into that old thing came out looking the same - like curdled and rusted UPMC Shadyside tapioca. The microwave is sitting in the garage now after being ignored by the garbage-day treasure hunters, and BFI, the last two weeks. I'm convinced it's transmitting messages to the big oven upstairs.
Because the upstairs oven is heeding. And suiting its size and sheer ugliness, it is grossly, chemically reconstructing most of what's going into it. It's Christmas week. The cookies have taken the brunt of it. So FINE. Bring It. Someone gently suggested that it might not be the oven (ahem), but I own up to my culinary goofs, most of which involved experiments with oven bags and parchment paper during my first year marriage. This is different. I know roasting and broiling and baking. And the maimed baked goods I tried to rehab this week were oven prey, pure and simple.
So upstairs oven, come January 8th........."I'm afraid, Dave." Sorry, HAL-OVEN 1962. You may be the lame duck, but I'm no shrinking violet.
