October 06 '96
Volume 17
Frugal
Frustration New Waffle Iron
For some time now the faithful Belgium waffle iron that we use, just about
every morning, at our Greenville residence has shown an increased tendency
to disallow easy removal of the cooked waffle. I had put off looking into
the matter until I had some time alone last Thursday evening (9/26). Barbara
and Allison Leatherwood, a friend from work, were in Cleveland to attend
a Willie Nelson concert. I enjoy hearing Willie sing on tape, radio, or TV,
but I can think of a lot of other uses for $35.00.
I decided to spend some time looking for Christmas cards and had no success,
for it appeared the Hallmark shop did not have, on display, cards for the
new season. I needed a couple of things from Wal Mart, so I made a quick
stop. I looked hard at a Belgium Waffle maker, but talked myself out of the
purchase. In my frugality, I reasoned that since I had not tinkered with
the old one, I could wait a little longer for a new one, especially if the
old one only needed a good cleaning.
Afterwards, I took up the task of cleaning the old waffle maker. Diligently,
I washed, scrubbed, and brushed the deeply grooved cooking surfaces until
the only thing that would come in contact with future waffles would be the
Teflon surface. After rinsing and drying the waffle iron, I decided to prepare
a waffle to celebrate the cleaning. I did not want to eat the waffle, rather
use it to test my labors and insure no soapy smell or after taste would affect
the breakfast waffle.
All went well until I tried to open the lid and remove the freshly made waffle.
It would not budge. It felt as if I had glued the surfaces together. I tugged
several more times, without success. I finally unplugged the waffle iron,
held the upper and lower portions in my right and left hands, respectively,
lifted the waffle iron chest high, and pulled with Herculean strength. At
last, the surfaces separated. The upper portion of the waffle iron held fast
to the top of the cooked waffle, and the lower portion held, just as securely,
the bottom of the waffle. The waffle was separated as neatly as if had been
sliced in half, horizontally.
The time required to remove the waffle from its moorings allowed me to consider
the futility of my cleaning efforts and made the earlier decision to postpone
the purchase of a new waffle iron rather distasteful. In just over an hour
the waffle maker was clean again. This time I decided to oil the surface
and let it sit overnight. I had not done this before, since the original
instructions for use of the waffle iron stated that no oil or spray was
necessary. I knew as I turned back the bed covers for a night’s rest
that the morrow would be the last I would use the old waffle iron.
Genes That Fit
It is good to know that some of the traits that make us different from others
are passed, genetically, to our children and even to subsequent generations.
Of course we prefer to be selective in those traits we mark as having been
derived from our own gene pool.
I trust that my sense of humor and appreciation of humorous happenings are
embedded in my own children. In my son, I see the genes that enable him to
enjoy working with his hands, and an increased appreciation of music as he
hones his guitar playing skills. I can see the teacher in myself in my daughter
as she attempts to transfer my efforts, as well as those of my wife, even
to her child.
Anna Lynn Butler is loaded with "Carter" genes. She possesses a strong work
ethic, and sense of order in her life. Her powers of observation, keen, even
in her preschool years, continue to amaze me, and her sense of humor is astute.
Rayanne has noticed that Anna’s speech has suffered in her new environment
of Belmont, MS. It isn’t that the folks of Pontotoc believe they are
better than anyone else, but there is something to be said for the educational
climate, producing standardized test scores that are among the best in the
public school systems of the State.
Most any of us can attest to the effect of environment upon our attitudes,
actions, and speech. A degradation in the pronunciation of certain words
that Anna has in her vocabulary is evidenced in the following. The single
syllabled words, right, night, light, nice, and lice, when pronounced with
an extra long, emphatic "I" and closed with a quick, soft consonant are examples
of less than eloquent articulation. The Southern tongue is less than crisp
and distinct when compared to our brothers in the cooler parts of North America.
The "countrified" Southern voice is sometimes an embarrassment.
"I was sitting by a boy on the bus, but I got up and moved because everybody
said he had lice," declared Anna as she related the day’s happenings
to her mother, with the country pronunciation of lice.
"Anna, I am going to have to send you to a speech therapist. You are beginning
to talk like these people in Belmont," Rayanne scolded.
In a terse response, characteristic of her Daa, Anna replied, "I wouldn’t
talk like this if you hadn’t taken me out of the Pontotoc Schools."
Not to be outdone, Rayanne remarked that even in Pontotoc, some of the folks
do not enunciate properly, and wherever Anna lives is no excuse
for her not speaking correctly.
Addendum:
The proof readers of this newsletter were my wife and my sister. Both asked
questions about the first page article. One wanted to know if I was not going
to use the old waffle iron, but that Barbara would. The other asked why I
did not tell about buying a new one. I explained that I wanted to leave the
ending open in order to make the reader review the article for clues.
The next morning our waffle did stick, but not severely. We have not used
the old waffle maker since. That weekend I purchased a new Belgium waffle
maker.
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