On Tuesday, after more than eight hours of cooking on a piping hot day, with my windows closed and AC unit running, my carbon monoxide alarm started wailing.
I spent the following two hours with the New York Fire Department and Con Edison. It was determined that I needed a new oven. I’m still waiting on said oven to be cleared for use. Great timing with my cookbook manuscript deadline—Wednesday of this week—and my frantic attempt to test the last few recipes.
As soon as my oven was deemed unusable, I started panicking. Writing this book has been an ordeal, honestly, and I wasn’t prepared to have my fire taken away at the 11th hour.
The firemen who answered my 911 call were kind enough to stay with me for almost an hour, while we waited for CO levels to drop and Con Edison to show up. One of them pointed out how lucky I was that my carbon monoxide monitor had gone off when it did. “Sometimes they don’t,” he said. “They’re out of batteries, or they just don’t work.”
As soon as he said that, everything snapped into perspective. I felt absolutely fine as my CO levels climbed indoors. There was no odor or fume that would have alerted me. Had the alarm not gone off, I’d have gone to sleep a few hours later.
I’m more stressed about work than I have been since my post-bacc. And of course getting the oven replaced and checked for safety has been a hassle, a lot of waiting and making pesky follow up calls. But this stuff isn’t life-or-death, whereas high carbon monoxide levels can be.
I’m carrying my stress into this new week, but I’m bringing my gratitude along as well. I’m grateful for my home, for the monitors and alarm that kept me safe, for the firemen who helped me to ventilate my space and monitored my air, the ConEd engineer who diagnosed the problem and stayed here till 11pm, when my CO levels were completely normal again.
I’m especially grateful for the friend and neighbor who has allowed me to show up at her doorstep with bags full of groceries in the last few days, loaning me use of her oven so that I don’t fall critically behind with my recipe trials.
I have so much fortune and support. The universe has an odd sense of humor sometimes, but life is good.
Happy Sunday, friends. Here are some recipes and reads.
I could use some (baked) mac and cheese right now! My friend Britt just posted a gluten-free version that looks terrific.
A colorful, refreshing summer Southwestern chopped salad.
I’m eyeing Sadia’s chickpea rice tortilla soup.
I can’t get enough cold cucumber salads at this time of year. I love the looks of Lisa’s pickled cucumbers.
Who doesn’t need a pick-me-up chocolate cupcake from time to time?
1. An essay on slime that is so much more. “We are made by, and for, one another.”
2. Tulare Lake in the San Joaquin Valley gives us a peek into the history of modern food production.
3. “We are all exposed and we are in all of this together”: the challenges and difficulties of distributing vaccines in conflict zones.
4. Honestly, I know next to nothing about knives. But now I know a little more.
5. In my online work I come across a lot of what could be classified as either “toxic positivity” or spiritual bypassing. I’m intrigued by the notion of “tragic optimism,” a determined search for meaning that doesn’t ignore darkness or pain.
Stay safe and well, friends. Take good care of your home detectors. And I’ll be back soon.
I’m keeping this weekend reading post short and sweet, mostly because my writing energies have been wrapped up in posts for NEDA week 2019, which begins tomorrow! It won’t be a regular week of recipe-sharing here on the blog, but rather a week in which I take some time to celebrate the recovery process, with all of its challenges and gifts. If you take interest in this topic, perhaps you’ll check in from time to time. For today, I wanted to share my…
Years ago, when I had just transitioning to a vegan lifestyle, I spent most of my time secretly hoping that people would ask me why I was vegan. Like many new vegans, I was all conviction and ardor. I felt like a soldier in a great and important battle, and I welcomed a fight. Over time, the desire to take up arms waned. I found that a lot of conversations about my lifestyle felt not like dialogs, but attacks, and I was less prepared for battle…
Welcome back from the holiday weekend, friends! If you celebrated Thanksgiving, I hope it was a great one, and if you didn’t, I hope that you’ve had a restful and restorative few days. Here are the weekend reading links I’ve been collecting. You’ll notice that a bunch of them still seem Thanksgiving themed–and why not? No reason to stop feasting. I’ve heard it said that there’s no suitable vegan equivalent for traditional green bean casserole, but that’s absurd–and Cara’s awesome healthy green bean…
In the last few months, I’ve been reminded of why we use expressions like “heartache” or “broken heart.” It’s something you forget once your heart has been patched up and healed from whatever its last injury was, but the loss of love can be physically painful. It’s a heaviness, an ache in the chest. We read and hear about this all the time, but somehow it’s always surprising to experience it firsthand. I was thinking about this when I read Brian Doyle’s 2004 essay on the capacity…