Day 21: Setting the Oven on Fire

So, tonight I set the oven on fire. I've been baking all day and apparently a little bit of everything I've made- the sugar glaze, the olive oil spray on a sheet tray, several raisins and apple bits- they all made it on the bottom of the oven where they sat marinating in oil and heat. I came up from the basement with a load of laundry to check on my last batch of cookies, when I noticed a sliver of smoke hovering above the kitchen doorway. Even with the hood system, smoke was pouring up from the range. When Rich opened the oven we both saw flames. He slammed it shut and we stared at each other with our what-in-the-world-do-we-do-now faces. "Milk!" He cried and grabbed the quart of half and half which he promptly dumped straight into the oven. While he poured, the fire shout out at him; two quick flashes before dying away.
In a kitchen of adrenaline and smoke he turned to me and said, "You're done! No More Baking for You!" as we opened cabinets and doors, looking for oven cleaner and fresh air.
Micky started running around the house, ducking low and looking for an escape route. When I opened the front door he bolted onto the porch and even now refuses to come back inside. I guess we know he's not the dog to come back to save us, in the case of a more serious fire.

Our house is filled with smoke. And there's half and half all over the floor. And Rich is in the kitchen, cleaning out my filthy oven mess. He's just preheated it to 350 and we'll try those oatmeal cookies one more time. Because we're never done- not with baking, not with loving. Even when we just want to sit on the porch with the dog.