Dear Gentle Readers,
In the last two weeks, you've read about my new fascination with hummimgbirds and their giant red fueltank at my window.
Today you'll read the downside. I was in the kitchen making hummingbird food (boil water, add sugar, stir - not rocket science) when the phone rang and KC had to go outside. Yada, yada, yada, I forgot all about it until giant black clouds of smoke billowed into the bedroom, where KC and I were snuggled up watching Dr. Who, The End of Time, with the wonderful David Tennant. So, I pick up my dachshund and head to the door just as our multitude of smoke detectors finally kick in, all the while shouting for my husband, who does not respond. I made sure KC was okay, then headed back in the house to find Bill, who by this time I assumed was down because he was still missing. Getting to the kitchen, I glimpse the pot on the stove with the cursed hummingbird food in the midst of smoke so thick I can see how easy it would be to become disoriented. Gas turned off, I take the damn pot out the door and throw it out into the yard. As I hold my head and my stomach, fighting off the urges to puke and pass out, my smiling husband comes around the corner from our neighbor's house. He hears the smoke alarms and sees the black clouds coming out the door and says to me, " Electing a new pope, Sweetie?"