Industrious, TED, Flu (again) & Foodious

I am sitting on the couch nursing Mr. Bingley, having all sorts of gooey sweet maternal thoughts. How much I love my baby and how “baby” is the ideal way to start your life, so innocent and amazing. And while I am sitting there having these maternal thoughts I am overhearing a TED talk that Richie is playing. (Have you not heard of TED talks yet? They are, to use the slang, mind blowing; check them out and you will get hooked on peeking into the genius of the world's great thinkers). This particular TED talk is a woman, a scientist, and she is discussing the topic of the hour: Flu.

Hmmmm. I look at my innocent offspring. I do not want you to get the flu baby, you are too little, just a baby. So I keep listening to her as she mentions that if we look to history, the flu outbreak of 1918 began with a mild strain. A mild strain that went all around the world. The British Army even certified that it was of little or no consequence and would not affect the war (that’s WWI she’s referring to). Sound familiar? But then, then my friends, this same flu came back, and to quote, "this time it was devastating.”

I am looking at my baby again. Maternal instincts ramp up. I am thinking about protecting and feeding. Feeding baby, feeding children, feeding husband. I have that regular, reoccurring thought: I need to up my food storage. I need to be able to take care of my own during a crisis. I will do some canning soon. Then I remember: my hot plate—the one I’ve done all my canning on for the past 4 years—it broke 2 months ago (sniffle, sniffle). It won’t turn on. It would cost $120.00 to replace.

I had mentioned that it was broken to my sister--Sister Industrious--and she said, “just take it apart and fix it. That’s what I would do”. Easy for you to say. You are Sister Industrious. I liked to play with paint and playdough when I was little, not take things apart. I have no experience in taking things apart. But then I realized, “Experience Schmerience. What have I got to loose?” So I had tried to fix it about 2 months ago, but no luck. I couldn’t take it apart. I needed a metric allen wrench and we didn’t have one. And who knew if I finally did get the plate apart, if I would be able to make it work again.

I look over at Mr. Handsome. He is industrious. He has been working all morning on feeding a line from the RO system to the fridge (The lengths this man will go to for clear, clean ice!). So I say to him, “For Mother’s Day I would like you to either (a) fix my hot plate, (b) get me a new one or (c) hire an electrician to get the outside stove up and running. Did you hear what that lady just said about the 1918 flu? Boy is she timely. She must have done this talk just yesterday.”

“Nope,” said Handsome, “this is from 2007.”

Whoa. Then it’s me who is timely in listening to it right now. This must be a sign.

He says he will go to Ace Hardware today and pick up a metric allen wrench. He is sweet like that. And industrious.

So this afternoon I take the hot plate apart. The metric allen wrench turned out to be inconsequential, but a pair of toothy pliers did the job. Handsome and I tinkered with the inner workings of the hot plate. It appeared that the metal arm that attached the "on" and "off'" dial to the rest of the inner workings had fallen off, and it appeared to be too short to properly reconnect. Mr. Handsome’s hands moved all over the inner workings, his eyes and fingers collecting information. (aside, with pictures: It was just like when we went to the Science Center last week. We surprised the kids with a Culture Pass. . .got them out of school early on Monday. There was an exhibit on behavioral learning that he sat down at. You have to figure out how to make the interactive exhibit work without any instructions. His hands went all over that exhibit trying to figure out how it worked. He’s like that.)

The metal rod that attached the dial to the heating mechanism was about ½ an inch too short. But how could this be, seeing that there were no other parts floating around inside this hot plate that could have come disconnected?

Together we decided that it was as if the entire face of the hot plate had shifted a half inch clockwise, and needed to be shoved back into place. Yes, that was exactly what it needed! So I rotated the face of the plate and –voila!-- We were able to fix it in under 5 minutes.

(left, the part that had disconnected. right, the inner workings of a hot plate. who knew?)

Mr.  Handsome looked at me and said, “We are now the embodiment of ‘use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without'.”

“You make me laugh, my fearless, tinkering man!”

“Happy Mother’s Day, a little early.”

Yes. Happy Mother’s Day. And with this gift of a renewed hot plate, I will be working on replenishing that food supply in my pantry. Feeding people is my job.

Now, go listen to some TED talks and if you hear that woman talk about the flu back in 2007, I want you to do just the opposite of her advice for individuals. She says stockpiling food is impractical. I say she’s wrong. Get some food storage and keep it under your bed. 3 months - a years worth should do. As for me, I think I’ll go can some beans. I’m feeling a little industrious.

(As for Bingley, he is done nursing and looking cute as a button. I bet he’ll be giving some stellar TED talks in about 25 years).