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Where I Get It From

Got this email from my mom last night:

"This is what happens when you accidentally set the oven to broil instead of bake and then leave the house and drive to the airport. Only to arrive home to the beep-beep-beep sound of the smoke detector going off as you walk up the back stairs."

Ah, yes. This is the mighty family tree from which I fell.

Posted July 29, 2005 4:45 PM | On This Day: 2003 2002



Oh, hon! It's okay; I'm a professionally-trained chef, and I've nearly burned my house down three times.

But the best part is, that Steve actually ate one of the pork chops (yes, those are pork chops) along with a handfull of olives because he was so hungry. For better or for worse, in sickness or in health. . .

One of the stories from my childhood that is the most funny and sad at the same time ended with my mom coming home to the smoke alarm going off as she'd left a pot boiling on the stove. It started when my father cut off three of his toes with the lawn mower. In between there was rushing around trying to locate toes and rush to the hospital. If you ever meet my father and see him wearing socks with his sandals, or notice the shoe on his one foot bending up funny, you'll have to forgive the fashion faux pas.