Today, the St. Laurent’s came down from Stoneybrook [sp?] to visit, as they were in Calgary to complete some adoption documents. They have recently adopted a wonderfully adorable blond-haired, blue-eyed little boy, by the name of Jeremiah, further expanding their family of 5 biological daughters and 2 adopted African-American boys.
They came down to visit with their youngest daughter and one of the boys, plus the newly adopted toddler. The youngest daughter, who used to be a head shorter than me, is now my height. The black (excuse my political incorrectness but I say it in the least offensive way possible as I am too lazy to type out African-American every time) boy that came along, who used to be a head and a half shorter than me, is now a full head taller than me. And the little white boy (again, no offense meant) is up to my hip. I suppose the next time I see them he’ll be at least my height, judging from the way the rest of their children grow. And yes, I purposely disregard the fact that he’s adopted.
Anyways, we took them to a Chinese restaurant close to our house. At first I wasn’t going to go because I didn’t want to bring jook with me to the restaurant, like my mom so eagerly suggested. Which I was outraged at. I mean, who brings their own food to a restaurant?! Plus I’m so sick of jook. So I just asked my parents to order some sort of soft noodle so I could eat too.
When we got there, I couldn’t take it anymore. The sight of all the beautifully delicious food going round and round in front of me. So I progressed from soup to noodles to soft scallops to chicken skin to chicken!!!! Albeit in VERY small bites and VERY slowly. But it was the most satisfying meal of my entire life, even though I was only just satisfied. Barely.
My gosh have I developed a huge appreciation for solid food.
After that absolutely delightful meal, throughout which the 4 year old toddler was charming the socks off my parents and I by talking and reasoning in the cutest manner ever (his parents think he’ll be a lawyer when he grows up), we came back to our house so he could pick a few of my mom’s flowers to give to his mom, since he had picked a dandelion for her before dinner.
We arrived at this scene:
Hearing the smoke alarming beeping and smelling the smoke from outside the house. My mom went into a panic as she realized that she had forgotten to turn the smoke off. And that my dog was in there.
We ran into the house and turned off the stove, unplugged the smoke detector, madly opened windows and outside doors and turning on fans. The smoke was so thick you could literally see it hovering about 2-3 feet above the floor. Y’know when the fire department tells you to crawl so you stay under the smoke? Yea totally true. Thank God that Mitzu is a small dog and was under the smoke. He must have been completely bewildered and frightened from the noise and the smell, since dog’s ears and noses are so sensitive. I had to catch him and carry him outside because he wouldn’t go out by himself.
I’m glad the only damage was to the stove and the pot of soup. Theres a nice big burn mark there. Thank God we came back when we did or else something wooden (i.e. the kitchen cabinets) may have caught fire, and Mitzu might have suffered a lot more harm than just inhaling smoke. Needless to say, more soup will have to be made, and a sign will have to posted on the door telling my mom to check the stove before she goes out.
So I’m sitting here freezing my butt off and smelling like smoke as the house slowly airs out, thanking God that nothing worse happened than a burned stove.