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Sunday morning omelet

May 18, 2011 By pia

My latest post for Psychology Today

I know now why I only usually eat omelets for dinner. Sunday morning I was cooking one. The phone rang and I was distracted. Which is a shame as the perfection of my omelets are only surpassed by–well I don’t cook anything else as beautiful.

The smoke alarm went off. I thought I cut the security system quickly but the monitors, I guess you call them, called me. They asked for my password. So I gave it to them. Five minutes later my friend CLo called–they had called her. Apparently I was supposed to give the nickname to my password. Well uh ask for that!!! Not that I remembered. I called the security company back.

It was too late. It felt like half the fire and police departments came to the court. To the wrong house! If it had been a true emergency and I was stuck in the back of the house and they couldn’t see fire….Thanks to CLo’s call I was dressed and ran out to call the police department over from the house Eldon calls “house of redneck country monied trash.”

They were engrossed in a laughing conversation with the police and firemen. My neighbors across from me had lent their house to her son, a middle aged biker with Willie-type hair and a trike cycle, and ten of his nearest and dearest–all of whom were out enjoying the spectacle as were the people who were renting the house next door from the Obama family (the parents voted for Obama, yeah!!!!) My other next door neighbor was asleep or being kind and staying in but his dog, Crazy Dog, was enjoying have a real reason to bark madly.

I continued calling the police and fire over to my house until finally somebody heard me. It was their second smoke alarm call of the morning. They really liked my house, and I almost gave them a tour until I thought about how absurd that was.

I do have to admit it brought back sweet memories of the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. Apparently I had a lot of boys visit me. Apparently my father tried grilling. Apparently the entire Jericho volunteer fire department liked coming over. We ended the summer on first name bases with all of them. Good times!

II refuse to be embarrassed by the spectacle I made of myself and can never forget the nickname to my password as I out clevered myself. It’s perfect yet nobody would ever guess it.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: a fish out of water, A northerner moves to the south

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Comments

  1. Doug says

    May 19, 2011 at 9:58 am

    Perfection is a complete assortment of traps.

    By the way, do my comments ever show up on your PT columns? I’ve left a comment on every piece (I think) but now I can’t find them.

  2. pia says

    May 19, 2011 at 11:14 am

    @Doug
    Yes they do and I appreciate them much. PT is going through some technical problems this week. Actually it might be down now

  3. Adriftatsea says

    May 19, 2011 at 12:23 pm

    But you never say why you only make/eat omelets for dinner???

  4. pia says

    May 20, 2011 at 6:12 am

    @Adriftatsea
    Hi Adrift–I don’t think I’m capable of making them for breakfast 🙂 Must. Buy. Cheap. Oil.

  5. Doug says

    May 20, 2011 at 6:26 am

    I see. So they are too complicated to make until after breakfast?

  6. pia says

    May 20, 2011 at 10:55 am

    Exactly Doug. Omelets are a work of art. They require a precision I need an exact amount of caffeine in my body to make. They also should never be made with olive oil–burns too quickly but I forget that until I’m properly caffeinated.

  7. sage says

    May 21, 2011 at 7:03 am

    Instead of offering a tour, you should have offered them an omelet… but maybe they don’t like there’s burnt! Great post, what a way to bring the community together.

    When I was a grad student and living in an apartment owned by the school, an Indian family lived downstairs. They always burnt food (but it was sure good) and the fire alarms were automatically tied to the fire dept and the trucks would always come running…

  8. cooper says

    May 23, 2011 at 2:34 pm

    I love dinner omelets. Who eats breakfast anyway.

    You are only spectacle if you think yourself so. Otherwise, you are the center of attention.

  9. Bone says

    May 23, 2011 at 4:30 pm

    Ah, you haven’t lived until you’ve had some branch of civil servants called out for almost no reason. Mine was the police. Called by an ex-girlfriend when she thought I was dead because I wouldn’t answer my phone(s). Hello, I was napping.

    I don’t get the trike bikes. Doesn’t that defeat the whole cool look? Not that I’d ever say that to a biker, or triker 🙂

  10. Terry says

    May 25, 2011 at 8:31 am

    Ah ha! It is nice to find another soul who appreciates the art of creating the perfect omelet. What a fiasco about the alarm company – they certainly ARE picky, aren’t they? I would have been distracted too.

    I rode my Harley with a friend who had a trike – Three Wheel Scott was paralyzed from the waist down and had many health problems. But when he hoisted himself onto his custom trike he could ride like the wind – and did.

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About Me

I live in the South, not South Florida, a few blocks from the ocean, and two blocks from the main street. It's called Main Street. Amazes me too.

I'm from New York. I mostly lived in the Mid-Upper East Side, and the heart of the Upper West Side. It amazes me when people talk about how scared they were of Times Square in the 1970's and 1980's.

As my mother said: "know the streets, look out and you'll be fine."

What was scary was the invasion of the crack dens into "good buildings in good 'hoods." And the greedy landlords who did everything they could to get good tenants out of buildings.

I'm a Long Island girl, and proud of it now.
Then I hated everything about the suburbs. Yet somehow I lived in a few great Long Island Sound towns after high school.

Go to archives "August 2004" if you want to begin with the first posts.

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