How to Boil Water
In case you haven’t noticed I’ve been in a creative writing mood with the last couple of posts. Hopefully this will be the last for a while. I really like to do the politics thing better.
UPDATE, the woman I refer to as my future ex-wife in this piece, officially became my ex-wife in 2000. I wrote this back in 1998. The divorce is working out JUST FINE!
What kind of nonsense is this, you the reader may be asking yourself after seeing the above title. I already KNOW how to boil water. Ah, but you have never tried to boil water at MY house! I am trying to make a cup of tea. I start the boil water process and get a little side tracked.
First step, I go to the kitchen cabinet to get a pot. This should be easy enough, but not at my house. I open the cabinet and the door comes off in my hands. I meant to fix that damn door weeks ago. Now I have to find a screwdriver and reattach the door. That takes about 20 minutes. Then when I look inside, there is not a pot to be seen! I go upstairs and ask number one son.
“Luke, where are all the pots?”
“What pots Pop?” he asks, not bothering to move his eyes from the Nintendo screen.
“The cooking pots.” I answer with a sigh.
“IDONOOO…” He says shooting three of his electronic opponents, in rapid succession, with a Joystick Controlled Sniper-Rifle.
“Where’s your mom?”
“Huh?” he mumbles while repeatedly pressing the “A button” to lob grenades into a bunker.
“You know, the woman that lives with us… your MOM!”
“IDONOOO!!!” is all I get in reply
I shuffle off in search of number two son. I find him on the couch in the living room with stereo headphones clasped to his head.
I wave in a vain effort to get his attention
I get no response.
“DANIEL?!?” I yell yanking the jack from the stereo. The speakers explode in the terrible, angry screeching of Grand Master somebody or other.
“WHYJADODATPOP?” He screams over the sound of 100 dying cats coming from the speakers.
I fumble to find the volume control, failing that I press the power button. The silence is truly deafening.
“Daniel, where are the pots?”
“The cooking pots.”
“Um, where’s your mother?”
“She’s at her aroma therapy session”
I consider asking him if she has her Cell-Phone, but one more idonoo is more then I can take. I find the cordless phone on its base in the kitchen. It’s there because I took the precaution of chaining it to the counter last week after I spent an hour looking for it. I dial my wifes cell number.
“Hi” she answers.
“Um, sweetums where are the pots?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“The COOKING pots?”
“NO NEED TO YELL!” she yells.
I count to ten hoping she will figure out what I’m looking for.
“The pots are in the bedroom.” she says matter of factually.
“Honey, Sweetums, Mother of my children, what are the pots doing in the bedroom?”
“It’s feng shui,” she says as if that explained everything.
“What the hell is fung shay?”
“It’s pronounced fung shway.”
“OK, what is it?”
“It’s an ancient art used to balance Qi in people through the organization of objects inside of buildings.”
“What is chee?”
“Qi is the life-force, you see the wind and water of the house was unbalanced so I had to move the pots to the bedroom.”
“Oh, Um, I see… you where balancing the wind and the water… I’ll talk to you when ya get home.” I say as I hang up. After finding the pot I need in the bedroom, I return to the kitchen to continue my tea making process.
Second step; put the required amount of water in the pot. Do not over fill.
Third step, put the pot of water on the stove and turn on the burner. Do not watch the pot! It isn’t necessary to watch the pot. If you meditate using deep breathing exercises you will KNOW when the water is boiling, at least so says my wife. I just listen for the sound of the pot spilling over as it boils (SPLASH! SIZZLE!).
Forth, when there are bubbles dancing about on top of the water, or it spills over, it is boiling.
I make my cup of Earl Gray and sit sipping it out on the porch. Out comes number one son.
“When’s Mom coming home?” he asks.
“IDONOOO.” I say with satisfaction.
He ducks back into the house, taking my hint.
Up the sidewalk comes the little black cloud in a dress that is my future ex-wife.
“What are you going to make for dinner?” she asks.
“I just checked and the wind and water aren’t in balance yet, so I can’t use the pots.”
She gives me a dirty look and bounces up the stairs into the house. At that moment I feel at one with the Universe. Perhaps there’s something to this feng shui stuff after all.
The Telepathic Crickets don’t like fung shui either…
The scientifically impossible I do right away
The spiritually miraculous takes a bit longer