I love Angie for many reasons, but knowing her way around the kitchen is not one of them. See, she tends to set things on fire, and this just frightens our cat and angers my wallet. Knowing this, you would think that a salad would be a relatively safe thing to leave within Angie's reach. So did I.
At some point during the course of the dinner that she was not allowed to cook, Angie started craving greens. I passed her the salad bowl and returned to watching David eat. It's fascinating, really. He can make an entire bowl of food disappear without getting a single morsel into his mouth. Move over, Copperfield - there's a new David on the scene.
Anyway, as I was admiring David's meatball hairdo, I smelled fire. Unfortunately, I know this odor all too well and whipped around not really that shocked to see the salad bowl going up in flames. Shit!
After years with Angie, my reflexes have been honed to smother first, ask questions later. I snatched David's glass of apple juice and doused the blazing inferno. I did have a beer in my hand, but come on - get real! Through the smoke, I saw Angie's red cheeks and heard her muttering something over and over again. I ignored this for the moment and put on my Fire Chief hat to investigate.
Hmmm. Very interesting. One smoking salad bowl, with two plastic spoons hanging over the edge. Four burning candles on the table next to the salad bowl. Judging by the angle of the melted spoon, someone really stupid must have placed the salad bowl right next to the flammable centerpiece. The cute blonde dame over there with the red face is the only one with green crap on her plate.
Before I could crack the case, Angie's muffled chanting got louder and louder. Eventually, I could make out what she was repeatedly repeating:
'Please don't blog this, please don't blog this, please don't...'