LETTERS FROM HOME: SMOKE GETS IN MARTHA STEWART'S EYES...AND OUR HOUSE

March 15, 2001

Dear Patty,

DC called me at work this week to report a disaster.

For DC, the word disaster has many meanings. It could mean that one of her fish seems to be swimming lethargically, it could mean a tornado is bearing down on the house. This disaster had the sound of something in between.

While cooking corned beef for dinner, she left the house with Hank and Lucy to run some errands and returned to see smoke pouring from the exterior oven vent.

Visibility was low when she opened the back door.

DC turned off the stove, tossed the meat and the pan it was fused to into the back yard and ran up and down the stairs opening windows and doors.

DC was most concerned about her parakeets and finches, but they apparently like the smell of scorched corned beef. She also feared a neighbor would call the fire department because of all the smoke billowing out of the windows.

When she called me, DC sounded more defeated than frantic. She had Martha Stewart's Syndrome, a state of depression caused by the impossibility of doing everything perfectly. Our parents were invited for dinner.

We'll just go to a restaurant, I hope I said cheerfully. I suggested she phone the fire department for information about clearing smoke out of a house. She did so.

DC: I left something on the stove, and I've got a house full of smoke.

FIREFIGHTER: Ma'am, what's your address? We'll be right there.

DC: Oh no, I don't have a fire. The water just ran out in a pan, and I have all sorts of smoke, and I need to know how to get the smoke and the smell out of the house.

FIREFIGHTER: Open the front and back door.

DC: I've done it.

FIREFIGHTER: Open all the windows.

DC: I've done it.

FIREFIGHTER: We have a big fan that can pull the smoke out of the house.

The prospect of having the fire department bring a big fan over to take care of a little old corned beef was too much for DC.

DC: Is there any kind of spray to get the smell out of the house?

FIREFIGHTER: Just room fresheners. Are you sure you don't want the big fan?

He suggested she try the air conditioner instead, and asked, Is there anything else I can help you with?

DC: Yeah, you can tell me where we can go for dinner.

FIREFIGHTER: Well, you could come here. How many people is it?

The accommodating firefighter concluded that the firehouse probably couldn't handle a party of our size that night. DC thanked him anyway.

As disasters go, this one could have been one. And when dinner is a charred rock, you're glad your guests were family.

At the restaurant, the women of the family tried to cheer DC up with tales of dinners and popcorn they themselves have incinerated. The men just smiled the way you do when you're glad it wasn't you because it usually is. Nobody ordered blackened anything.

Love, Sam