Baby Bear Attack!

Practice for the eclipse.

Well! The eclipse trip got a lot more exciting when I was getting dinner out of the oven. We had joined Providence friends for the eclipse at an AirBnB in Warren, Vermont, complete with kitchen. As I reached into the oven to check on the phyllo dish that was baking, I heard a noise and looked over to the door where…a baby bear was sniffing! I froze, especially when the baby started to nose its way through the open door, and its mama in the background was looking not a little concerned as she left her investigation of the hot tub and began up the stairs to the porch where her baby—naughty child!—was now stepping into the kitchen. I don’t know exactly what transpired next, but somehow the baby’s paw joined my arm in the oven and boom! My arm sizzled against the rack. Fortunately, not the baby bear’s; I had protected it.

I’m impressed by the number of people who have believed this story of my fantasy baby bear invasion, told upon inquiry of what happened to my arm. Which has healed nicely in the two weeks since it happened. And, you must admit, a baby bear in the kitchen makes for a much better story than merely burning my arm on the oven rack.

And, yes, I really do have to learn to use oven mitts.