Escape the safety of the small by taking the risks to become part of something bigger. Your true self demands it. Listen for the timer on the oven to sound-that's when the memory curtain parts, flashing moments that really mattered.
I love my dad. He used to walk around the whole neighborhood and collect old furniture and fix it, like MacGyver with duct tape. One time, he brought a television home. I said, 'Damn, that TV has 500 channels.' When I got older, it didn't have 500 channels - it was a knob from the oven. My favorite channel was 300 degrees.
Note, however, that you cannot simply add temperatures the way you can add volumes or weights. Two people in bed, each with body temperatures of 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit, do not normally create a 197.2 degree under-the-cover oven.
I have no fresh-from-the-oven mother-daughter recollections - only the daily creaking of cans being opened and the sucking sound of gelatinous vegetables splurting from their tin-encased vacuums. Her kitchen was filled with smoke and impatience. ... And so I grew up finding my own path, frying what could not be boiled, winging my way through life without recipes.
We hear the same refrain all the time from people: I have no life. I get up in the morning, daycare, eldercare, a 40 minute commute to work. I have to work late. I get home at night, there's laundry, bills to pay, jam something into the microwave oven. I'm exhausted, I go to sleep, I wake up and the routine begins all over again. This is what life has become in America.
Im obsessed with vinyasa flow yoga and Pilates. And since I live in Sweden, and we have good seafood, I tend to cook a lot of fish, preferably with oven-roasted veggies and a cauliflower mash.
You might heckle me now - but when I get home, I've got a chicken in the oven.
I thought I was raptured up into the air today; turns out, it was just my gas oven exploding.
The household I grew up in... was rather like an Ovaltine advert. There was a huge fire, a kettle on the fire, the oven with the bread being baked every day, and there was the radio; it was very magical to hear all these wonderful programmes.
If the mother had not beene in the oven, shee had never sought her daughter there.
Doing projects really gives people self-confidence. Nothing is better than taking the pie out of the oven. What it does for you personally, and for your family's idea of you, is something you can't buy.
My children are my greatest gifts and my greatest inspirations. That my husband is the most honest, kind, hard-working, and genuine person, and I honestly don't know how I could ever live without him. That my parents love me and I love and appreciate them. That I hate doing taxes. That my biggest pet peeve is inconsiderate people. That I love laughing, traveling, volunteering, and my friends. That my favorite smell is chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. That I am blessed.
I have very vivid memories of being a young child. My mother would create dinner as for us, and when she would bake, she would leave some dough for me. I would roll the dough into little sticks while she was cooking the apple tart of whatever. I was looking through the window of the oven and flipping the light, and then my bread would come out, and it was inedible, of course.
I like baked potatoes. I don't have a microwave oven, and it takes forever to bake a potato in a conventional oven. Sometimes I'll just throw one in there, even if I don't want one, because by the time it's done, who knows?
Some of us seem to be born with a drive to try to make the world kinder. In my twenties, living in New York City, I worked in a soup kitchen every Sunday for many years, just trying to do my part. Then I read Animal Liberation and learned about factory farming and the killing of animals for oven cleaner and realized nobody needed my help as badly as the animals did.
By the same token, frozen dinners, a microwave oven, a dishwasher, and an illegal immigrant hired to clean the house and take one's cat to the vet would have seemed like the epitome of materialism in another time, but now provide the only means available for two-career couples to work hard enough at their jobs to earn the salaries they need to pay for those labor-saving amenities.
'Son of Saul' film is extremely emotional; you're watching people walk in, you're watching people die. It centers around a child that goes into the ovens but survives the gassing.
I'm used to writing fairy tales that can be somewhat dark, and the truth is that in fairy tales, romances are always problematic. They may end happily ever after, but someone's getting pushed into an oven or has blood in her shoe.
Man does not live by a turkey in every oven or a color TV set in every home. Man lives by faith and hope and love, by the star on the horizon, by the trumpet that will not call retreat.
Say you were standing with one foot in the oven and one foot in an ice bucket. According to the percentage people, you should be perfectly comfortable.
Like in Africa, if somebody doesn't have fuel, they're still going and collecting firewood. If they get an oven, that's a huge difference. You can do things to reduce the inequities by making sure that they can get clean energy, safe energy. To make sure they're not having to collect water every day. That's huge for women in the developing world.
The New Age? Its just the old age stuck in a microwave oven for fifteen seconds.
There are so many family dinners you can do. I eventually had to go to them and say, 'Look, I don't do spatula work. I don't do scenes with oven mitts. If you're looking for that, you've got the wrong guy. I'm not doing scenes about casseroles. It's not happening.
Men are like microwave ovens; they heat up immediately, but things start to boil over after about three minutes. Women are like conventional ovens; they take twenty minutes to heat up, but can go on cooking for hours.
I was baking cakes for a gourmet shop and put two chocolate cakes in oven to bake and when I opened the oven an hour later, they were raw - the oven wasn't working. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't borrow an oven and I didn't want to waste the batter, so I came up with the idea of steaming them and they came out great! Thick and fudgy, like pudding cake. That happy accident was always in the back of mind.
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