Partial Hospitalization: A Memorable First Day with a Sunburn

On my first day of partial hospitalization, I was so nervous. But it was a half day and the therapist that day was fantastic. I don’t remember everything we did that day, but what I remember the most was that we wrote letters to our mental health. I actually wrote two and found it very cathartic. I met some great people that first day. I found a couple of geeky friends as well as a couple of inspirational friends. I laughed half the day and found that this group and group therapy was going to be good for my soul.

It was a beautiful April day and we decided to sit outside… for five hours. It felt so good, but needless to say that much sun and no sunscreen, disaster. Before:

After:

Where’s the Keys

Have a funny story from last night. Well, it’s funny now.

We were helping my cousin pack and move last night. She drove the U-Haul by herself and parked. We pulled in and then two men she hired for help showed up. When we first got there we were looking at a freezer and figuring out how to get the water and ice out. Her hands were full so she handed me something to put in my pocket so she could focus on the freezer. We packed many boxes and bags, carried out loads of furniture and completely filled the truck. We were all exhausted when we were finished. We went outside to close up the truck and I went and sat in the car to get warm. Damn it was cold last night. They stood around the truck and went back inside. I remained in the car with my seatbelt buckled. Then mom and Justin came outside and went back in. Then she came back out with a flashlight. My phone was on sleep because it was past my bedtime. I happened to check my texts and Justin asked if I knew where she put the keys. I said no. How would I know where the keys were? More inside and outside and I figure out they’re searching for something. Then mom texts me and asks if I know where the keys are. Again, no, why would I know? I went back to my phone and had a niggling. Tracy had handed me something three hours earlier. I dig in my pocket and get this huge octagon shaped plastic thing. What the hell, is that. Suddenly, I see the key dangling from it. I jump out of the car and start running towards the house screaming I got it!! Justin had locked the door so the car starts honking and flashing lights as I’m still running towards the house. I felt so bad. Here they looked for at least 15 minutes and I had the keys the whole time. But I stand by my original thought, why the hell would I have the key?!

Oops in the Kitchen

So this Plucky Housewife got a little overzealous when she made her BBQ pork chops last night. I really just wanted the sauce to get hot, maybe a little caramelized, but I wound up with goo. The sauce that I used happened to be very heavy on the molasses, so as soon as it hit the cast iron skillet it was an instant burning mess.

It was a little smoky at first but within minutes you couldn’t see in the apartment. Now, I’m not one to waste good meat, so I quickly threw open the patio window and continued cooking. I think my biggest error was adding more BBQ sauce to the mix, but I really wanted the chops soaked and I just hadn’t realized the full extent at what I had done.

I pulled the chops off the skillet and started slicing them. They were beautiful. Cooked to absolute perfection IF you ignored the charred molasses on the outside. Husband opened more windows and set up a system of fans to blow the smoke out of the apartment. I served the chops with giant side salads and we gobbled them up. If I could have got past the bitter flavor from the burnt molasses I would have been in hog heaven. (See what I did there? It’s funny because pigs are pork. HAHAHA I crack myself up.)

After dinner I realized I had a mess on my hands. I had no idea what I was going to do with the goo in the bottom of my skillet. So I did what any self-respecting Plucky Housewife would do, I went to bed.

This morning, refreshed and semi wide awake, I decided to tackle this great cast iron skillet. This is where the beauty of cast iron comes into play. I can’t soak my pan but I can run water over the goo and use a silicon scraper. I would wonder what my grandmother used to clean her pans with without this modern miracle, but then she wouldn’t have made that mistake in the first place. So I scraped the pan a good ten minutes. I’m calling this my aerobics for the day. I decided that I could scrape it no cleaner and we would have to have slightly burnt molasses flavored something the next time I used the skillet.

To dry a cast iron skillet, you don’t want to just use a hand towel. For one thing, the hand towel would get too schmootzy (it’s a word) and the other it’s not good for the pan because it could rust as it air dries. I placed my cast iron skillet on the burner on low heat and walked away. I realized about 15 minutes later that in the commotion of cleaning, I forgot my coffee. I went back to the kitchen and checked on the skillet. It was a miracle. Tons of the molasses was drying out and flaking up. I used my handy-dandy scraper and began helping the flakes along. Soon the entire bottom of the skillet was covered in charred flakes so it was back into the sink, a quick rinse and back on the stove.

This time I read some emails and started to get absorbed when I remembered the skillet. I was curious, would there be more flakes? Sho’ nough there was! I did a little jig and scraped, rinsed and put the pan back on the burner. The last time I went through the process I got smart about things (It’s about time right?) and used my phone as a timer. After fifteen minutes I did one last scrape of the skillet and called it CLEAN. There was much rejoicing in my kitchen.

After an hour or two when it has cooled and dried completely, I’ll oil it down. That’s the final step in keeping a cast iron skillet in top condition. All you need is a good slather of vegetable oil. Don’t use too much though or it’s greasy and gross. Don’t use to little or it could promote rusting. Use just the right amount to get a good shine on the skillet. It makes us both happy. (Me and the skillet I mean. This is a love affair between us. Let’s leave the Husband out of it.)Image