Theistic Evolution

Hank Hanegraaff, the Bible Answer Man, says the banner of theistic evolution that many Christians wave (God used evolution as His method for creation) makes as much sense biblically as the phrase flaming snowflakes.

You've probably heard of Lyme Disease--nasty stuff. Starts out as a rash, then fatigue, chills, fever, headache, and muscle and joint aches, and swollen lymph nodes, moving right along to painful neck, dizziness, heart palpatations, arthritis in the knees, sleep disturbances and fatigue (according to the CDC site). You get that from a tick bite--but what you really get is an infection from a bacteria called Borrelia burgdorferi. You see, the tick doesn't just grow a bacteria--first it bites an animal like a deer or mouse that has it. Ticks don't fly, they can't jump on the deer, and they rarely move more than a yard from where they are hatched. So they have to wait for the "host" animal to brush up against the weed where it has spent its little smarmy life just waiting. Ever wonder how it (or other bacteria, viruses, microbes, etc.) developed over millions of years if the deer or mice or weeds weren't also evolving with the same plan in mind? Sort of like those little methane microbes under the ocean I mentioned yesterday, without which our global temperature would be 50 degrees higher.

I can see why atheists want to believe in evolution. But Christians? It really isn't even rational that an omnipotent God would bumble through billions and billions of years of mistakes and trial and error just so a deer could brush up against a piece of grass waving in the wind with a tick who never left home. To say nothing of the fact there was no disease until Adam sinned. So what were the little buggers passing along?

Dinner Menu

This was last night's, but was so yummy, I thought I'd post it in case I'm standing in front of the refrigerator some day at 4:30 wondering what to fix, and need to check my blog.

Oven baked, wild-caught salmon
Fresh greens, tossed salad
Freshly sliced cantaloupe
Peanut butter chocolate pie

The salmon was frozen from Trader Joe's (yes, of course, fresh would be better, but we live in Ohio, not Seattle). After it thawed (a bit--don't let it go all mushy on you), I set the oven for 375, sprayed a glass 8 x 8 dish, arranged the salmon in it, and put a light coating of mayonnaise on the salmon pieces, which I then sprinkled with some dried onion flakes, garlic salt, dill and parsley. Why not fresh herbs, you ask, but I never have those on hand.

While the salmon was baking (about 20 minutes) we had a small glass of wine and watched the evening (local) news. I don't like white wine, so we had Charles Shaw (3 buck chuck) Merlot, in my pretty 4 oz. stemmed glasses, which is just a perfect size for me. I get light-headed with 5 oz. I never drank wine before my heart surgery in 2002, but think it's probably much healthier than the chemicals in drugs. At least it's natural. In California this is called "two buck chuck;" in Ohio we pay import fees so it's $1.35 more per bottle. I can always tell the expensive stuff--doesn't taste nearly as good.

For the salad I used chopped red leaf lettuce for the base. Lettuce doesn't have much nutrition, so the darker the better--then grape tomatoes, shredded carrots, chopped organic mushrooms, fresh broccoli (and I use that term loosely, since I think it's been in the frig 2 weeks and God only knows when it was harvested and shipped) and sliced olives. The cantaloupe was cut just before I served it, but January isn't the best season for this fruit, so it wasn't like getting an Indiana cantaloupe in the summer.

Sounds really healthy. But ah, the dessert.

I used a purchased 8", chocolate crumb crust (Keebler), ready to use. The filling was made with 8 oz. low fat cream cheese, mixed with 1 cup of natural peanut butter (I use Krema), 1 cup of Splenda, 1 tsp. of vanilla, and about 4 oz. of sugar-free Cool Whip. It's stiff, so don't give up until thoroughly mixed. Put it carefully in the crust. Return to frig. When it set up a bit, I warmed up some sugar-free fudge topping, and made a design on the top of the filling. I serve that (very small pieces because it is terribly rich) with a dollup of the Cool Whip.

We both told me it was a great dinner. My husband always does, but I'm a bit pickier.

Hillary Clinton's legs

There's a good article in today's Wall Street Journal by Christina Binkley about "Women in Power"--their fashion tastes. Hillary is shown in that bright yellow blazer with black slacks we've seen on TV. Most of the other powerful women are shown in more feminine attire. Of the outfits shown, Condi's was way out in front with a very attractive skirted suit that showed off her lovely features, but looked smart. Nancy Pelosi's suit was a tad short and bunchy, and looking at her person you can't help but see she is a Californian with various enhancements and injections a part of her regimen. The PepsiCo CEO also looked lovely in an outfit that spoke to her heritage. Would it be racist to suggest that minority women in the US have a flare that the rest of us lack?

Yes, Hillary looks like I loaned her my legs, even though she's a pro-abortion, feminist, socialist who might go to the White House, not on the coat tails of her husband, but his fly. (There's some pretty good theory out there that she might not be where she is today if it hadn't been for Bill's indiscretions, particularly 10 years ago with Monica.)

But here's something to consider. She's probably healthier than the other candidates, both Republican and Democrat. Those of us with pear-shaped bodies (which almost always means heavier legs) are much healthier than those of us with apple-shaped bodies (usually they have great legs). If you don't believe me, google it. But I think she should get out of those omnipresent, omni-coverage slacks, and flaunt her healthy, solid, sturdy legs. Just lengthen the skirts a little, because wide thighs are just murder when you sit down on stage in front of an audience--even for skinny candidates.

Thursday Thirteen--13 steps along the American Way

I saw these points in Bret Stephens article about 2 weeks ago after the Iowa caucus. Whatever your party, religion or profession, I think you've seen or heard at least some, if not all, of these.

In the American way. . .

1) CEOs must perform on a quarterly basis.

2) Presidents and Congresses must reinvent politics in 100 days.

3) Generals should wipe out opponents in 100 hours without significant casualties.

4) Doctors should save life and limb every time.

5) Search engines should yield a million results.

6) What's bad will be made good, and what's good will be made great.

7) If it isn't great, it's down right awful.

8) There is a solution to every problem.

9) Trial is possible without error.

10) Risks must always be zero.

11) Every set back is a disaster.

12) Every mishap is the basis for a law suit.

13) Chronic impatience and complaining are just part of our culture.

The Band

What would your album cover look like? Try this. I found it at Ingrid's site. Her album is awesome.

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random: The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3: The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/: The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4. Use your graphics program of choice to throw them together, and post the result as a comment in this post. Also, pass it along in your own journal because it’s more amusing that way

Will you see your pet in heaven?

This is a great concern to many people, particularly the elderly who have been cared for and comforted by the companionship of a cat or dog or bird or other animal. Often it is the act of caring for and protecting the animal that helps the human. Our kitty brings us a lot of enjoyment, but she also brings out the best of our caring instincts and behaviors. Sometimes we just chuckle watching her sleep--the picture of absolute relaxation and not a care in the world. This is one of the better answers I've seen for this question.

The photo of the 3-legged shepherd mix and the mutt cat was found at Dog Friendly.com Somebody loves them a lot and I'm betting the animals return the favor.

Methane release in reverse

Interesting article at the Alchemist newsletter. Sounds like Archaea are a lot more important than polar bears. Isn't God amazing.

"Two microbes, known as Archaea, consume 90% of the greenhouse gas methane that would otherwise be released into the atmosphere from melting methane hydrates. However, these anaerobic microbes, which live in the ocean sediments, do so using a sulfur compound, methyl sulfide, rather than simply reversing the biochemistry of methane-making microbes. According to Christopher House and colleagues at Pennsylvania State University: "The Archaea take in the methane and produce a methyl sulfide, and then the sulfur-reducing bacteria eat the methyl sulfide and reduced it to sulfide," explains House. Understanding how these symbiotic organisms remove methane from the oceans is important because without them the average global atmospheric temperature would likely be warmer by about 10 degrees Celsius." (To convert Celsius (Centigrade) to Fahrenheit, multiply by 1.8 and add 32.)

Red jeans

Who knew? I thought colored jeans (except blue denim, gray, black or ugly) were out of style except for wearing around the house to clean, or to dash to the coffee shop in the wee hours of the morning. This photo is from the Ditto site; those aren't my legs, or fold marks (shouldn't they be ironed before the photo session?). Also, mine aren't flares or low rise. These cost $158. That's outrageous. It makes me flush to think about it. Mine are Ralph Lauren and I think I paid $3 for them at the Discovery Shop. Beautiful fabric and fit. Smug attack.

Speaking of colors, I mended some cotton gloves today. I'd been trying to think of something that work like a skinny darning egg, and finally came up with a fat colored marker. It's about the size of my index finger, which is where I always poke through. I don't like heavy gloves, but the thin ones don't last long.

Speaking of thread, I used a close match from a wooden spool from my mother's sewing cabinet. When's the last time you saw one of those? These spools belonged to my husband's grandmother, Neno, so I'm guessing they are maybe 60-70 years old because I've had them almost 50.

You know who you are

Someone I love is trying to quit smoking. I suggested he take one day at a time, and he assured me an hour might be a bit much. Then I saw this quote at Dancing Boys Mom. Is this great, or what?

I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once--Ashleigh Brilliant

I smoked a few cigs in college--had gained some weight. My roommate, daughter of a doctor, thought it might work. Stupid 60s. Fortunately, they tasted so bad, stung my nose, burned my eyes and made my breath stink, so I didn't continue. Can't imagine the attraction for those just starting. That's a lot of hurdles to try to look cool.

If only it were this easy

Si. No. Per piacere. Grazie. Prego. Parla inglese? Che? Vorrei vedere il cartellino dei colori.



Looking ahead to our trip.

What's a blog bar?

It's a way for the consumer to get involved--immediately. Computer terminals at the location (store, show, museum, library) allow real time input. I saw this at Trend Central via Library Marketing (her link didn't work; use mine).

"The Metropolitan Museum of Art is currently (i.e. Dec. 24, 2007, the date I saw this) hosting a blog bar, with eight computer terminals, at their current blog.mode: addressing fashion exhibition. The public can post their reactions to the show and ask questions which curators will respond to; in short, the blog bar is meant to “provoke commentary.” Excerpts of the blog will be included in the post-show book in order to document the impact of the exhibit and attendees’ participation."

I haven't seen a blog bar, but Sunday we did attend the final day of the Monet's Garden exhibit at the Columbus Museum of Art. It was very crowded. We weren't the only ones who waited for the last day. But I understand Saturday was even worse, with lines circling around the entry to the exhibit twice. We went right after first service at church, then stayed for lunch in the lovely restaurant/buffet designed by my husband many years ago. If CMA had had a blog bar, I might have commented how much more I enjoyed the American impressionists, because I liked seeing figures in the paintings. Blobs of color don't excite me too much. I probably wouldn't have "provoked commentary," except from my husband who doesn't do computers and would have been ready to move on to another exhibit, so it would have been a short message.

3WW--Three Word Wednesday

Today, January 23, the words are

Breath
Scattered
Tomorrow

For Mother, who died on January 24

Tomorrow she will be gone;
her breath scattered,
her words silenced.

Only her deeds will remain.

Bone posts 3 words on Tuesday night or Wednesday. The challenge is for you to write an essay, poem, thought, etc. using the three words, post that at your own site, then comment at the 3WW site, and the others who are participating. See you there. Or here. OK?

4554

His father's heart

The excerpt from Steve McKee's book, "My father's heart" in today's Wall St. Journal was riveting. I thought I'd forgotten most of that phase of Dad's life. How different it could have been for our family if he hadn't quit when he started to cough up blood.

On Sept. 30, 1969, 16-year-old Steve McKee watched his father die of a heart attack on the couch in their TV room. A lifelong smoker, John McKee had already been stricken by a heart attack six years earlier. But, unable to quit his three-pack-a-day habit, he made no lifestyle changes that might have prolonged his life. Deeply disappointed by his father's seeming surrender to cardiovascular disease, Mr. McKee -- now an editor at The Wall Street Journal -- set out to find the man who died before his son could know him. With this memoir, he sought to find a measure of understanding for his father, and anyone affected by smoking and heart disease. . . .

My father and my father-in-law both stopped smoking cold turkey as they began to move beyond the line of two packs a day. Dad was probably 36 or 37 when he began to cough blood; my husband's father was older, maybe in his 50s when one night out with his friends he started to open that third pack, he put it down and quit. My dad lived to 89; my husband's dad to 91; my husband's step-father, also a very heavy smoker who didn't quit, to 75; my husband's step-mother, also a smoker, died at 71 of lung cancer. All began smoking in their teens and really enjoyed it.

"My sister Kathy and I woke up every morning to the sounds of the same alarm clock: Dad's cough, his cigarette hack. Breath in. Pause. HACK. (Catch) Cough. They came in stanzas--three, four, five at a time, the second-to-last always the biggest crescendo." writes McKee

Oh, I remember that cough. We children had never known anything else but Dad's coughing. And the blue haze everywhere in the house if he was home. In those days, I didn't find the smell unpleasant like I do now. It was always a mix of after shave, hair cream, cigarettes and fuel oil. But what must my mother have thought? Neither of her parents smoked. Her mother was a health-nut--wouldn't even eat red meat, and she was always airing out the house.

Dad told me 40 years later that he wanted a cigarette for 20 years. When I was younger, I didn't think about that too much. But now I'm in awe of his focus, drive and determination. He was not always a pleasant person to be around when I was growing up. I wonder now if he just wanted a cigarette, if his head hurt, his eyes burned and his skin crawled for nicotine. My parents weren't social like McKee's parents. Dad dealt with people all day, 12 hours a day and a houseful of noisy children at night. And all the while, craving a cigarette, knowing that would take the edge off.

I won't be reading the book, but I'll remember it could have been me.

Link to the review is here.

Better safe than snowy

When I left the coffee shop this morning, there was about 1/2" of snow on all my windows, the mirrors, the head lights, hood, roof, etc. I only live 1/2 mile away. But I took out the brush and cleaned it all off. Most accidents happen close to home. I didn't any want loose snow to be picked up from the hood and plastered against my windshield or from my roof on to the next guy. Not everyone was as careful, so I had to watch them too.

Here's what's happening a bit north of us as of 2 p.m. today--looks like Illinois, Wisconsin, Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York.

"GRAND RAPIDS, Mich. (AP) - A foot of snow blanketed parts of Michigan and Wisconsin during the night, closing schools Tuesday and causing numerous traffic accidents. At least three traffic deaths were blamed on the weather in Michigan. Winter weather also was blamed for deaths in Oklahoma and Kentucky.

Snow started falling Monday and continued early Tuesday, piling up about a foot deep in western Michigan and up to 13 inches deep in some areas of southeastern Wisconsin. The snowfall started diminishing Tuesday in western Michigan, where the National Weather Service canceled a winter storm warning.

Nearly every school was closed in the Grand Rapids region."

Did you see that Baghdad had snow last week for the first time in about 100 years? That must have been exciting for the kids.

Omaha and Chickadee

The spell-check in my Outlook e-mail program wants to change Huckabee to Chickadee and Obama to Omaha.

Cat behavior

Rebellion. Yesterday I had my hands in the meat ball mix and the cat jumped up on the kitchen table and sat there looking at me. "Oh no. That's not allowed," I said. She looked at me and thought, "Oh yeah, and what are you going to do about it?"

Today my husband says he saw her on the dining room table. He told her to get down. She just looked at him defiantly.

Earlier today she was sitting in my lap while I was blogging. I started to absent mindedly pet her--maybe a little rough--while I was thinking. She raised her head and wrapped her jaws around my thumb, pressing gently. "Oh no. We don't bite the mommy," I said quietly. Our eyes locked. Hers narrowed. She let go.

I am alpha-cat.

Cleaner air

I'd forgotten about this until I came across it in my blog.

The black-out last summer (August 2003) that affected northern Ohio, Michigan and many eastern states, caused cleaner air. It sharply reduced the concentrations of ozone and sulfur dioxide. Maybe we could just shut everything down for a week every August and forget all the rules and regulations, if it is that easy.

Nah. The Democrats want to shut it all down, all the time, except for their private jets and big estates.

4549

DNA = Darn Nuisance Again

It's in our genes. Something in our DNA gurgles forth when we find a problem on the web. Talking with other librarians at the retirees lunch last Friday I realize I'm not the only one who gets sidetracked in the middle of researching something to offer the webmaster or IT staff some suggestions about broken links, links that misdirect, or bad printing advice. It just happened again, although not at a library or church site (where I usually suggest they at least mention the name of the town or city when giving the street address). This was a very lovely letter from Campus Crusade for "Rapid Deployment Kits" providing spiritual resources for our troops. Because my husband doesn't use the computer (and sleeps in longer than I do and I would forget this by the time we see each other), I wanted to print it. We usually consult with each other before straying from our list of parachurch donations.

To print a webpage I first do a print preview, because I hate getting that 3rd or 4th page with one line of advertising on it. But some web pages get around this by printing the pretty stuff (don't know the technical term) on page 1 after you've adjusted your printer to print only one page based on a "print preview." So after it spits it out, you have the colorful heading and no letter. For some reason, my printer (HP Photosmart, 3 in one, don't ever buy one), will then grab 5 or 6 pages if you try to turn that sheet over and print the "real" information, jamming as it goes, requiring a 5 minute hassle when all you wanted to do was donate $10 so a soldier in Iraq or Afghanistan will have a New Testament.

After the paper is unjammed and you have the letter (if you have librarian DNA), you then stop to send the company webmaster/IT staff an e-mail explaining how they could be more helpful to the ordinary reader who isn't 21 years old and gaming in their off time. It takes awhile to do this because the comment window is well hidden behind the FAQ which they want you to read first. Since they rarely acknowledge that their own stuff might be unhelpful, printing instructions are rarely included in an FAQ (also printers differ). The easiest thing is to have a "print only this page" or similar option, but that might leave out the advertising, so not all sites offer this. My prontomail e-mail is a mess to print. I have to copy and drop it in a word processing document or it tries all sorts of funny things. No matter what I comment on, they tell me to clear my cache.

I tried to order 2 books for my husband and his friend from Amazon. I had checked it out of the library for him (he also never goes to a library) and he loved it. Amazon offered me an additional 30% off if I'd get their charge card. I don't really want another charge card, but I thought it might be useful for ordering books. "Just a few seconds" ran into many minutes and gazillions of pages of tiny print I'm sure no one but a librarian would read, so I backed out of that and went back to my one credit card. Five times I tried. Five times it told me I didn't enter select the name of the card (but I did). So I backed out again, and decided I would just go up the street to Barnes and Noble and talk to a human being and tell them I wanted to order 2 copies of one title for 2 retired architects who want to own the wonderful book on architectural drawings that's available at UAPL.

But my DNA kicked in and I stopped to search for the comment window (not easy to do) and tell them about the problem. After 3 days, I finally got a response, apologizing for nothing, and telling me I hadn't selected the right card name (I only have one card so I think I know which company I use), or my number didn't match their database (why is my number in their database?) or other snarky suggestions. I wrote back that I'd done it all correctly and I was going to a bookstore, but their response was automated and said I couldn't reply to their reply! I will waste no more valuable librarian DNA on Amazon. They can just keep their old books.

When I shared with the retirees group my opinion on the lack of flexibility and awkwardness of "digital repository" software (many libraries use the same program which looks like no librarian ever sat on the selection committee) one retiree told me I should volunteer for the committee at OSU that handles that. A committee? No way! If I wanted to spend my life on a committee I wouldn't have retired.

Rant over. I feel better.

4548

"It's OK"

That was my husband's response when I asked if he liked my new dessert. He usually goes over the edge with compliments--truly one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. "Not fabulous? Terrific? Just OK?" I asked. "It's OK," he repeated. I must have been inspired after writing my Monday Memories about Mother's kitchens. It started out as a way to use up a little dab of fresh pineapple that was getting old, with some apples going soft, some coconut getting dried out, and some dried bananas of undetermined age, with what was left of the golden raisins and dried apricots, simmered in a little orange juice. I divided it into 6 pudding cups, cooled it, topped with sugar free Cool Whip and refrigerated.

He was watching me from the kitchen table make my sweet sour meat balls--one can each of sauerkraut, whole cranberry sauce and jar of chili sauce, mixed and set aside; then pour over lightly browned meat balls, which are made with whatever bread crumbs you have on hand, 2 eggs, 2-3 lbs or so of ground beef, and a package of Lipton onion soup. Bake for an hour at 375. Leftover sauce and meatballs freeze nicely.

Now, I'm convinced it's the Lipton's that really makes this, not the sauce--although it is very good. And I was out of Lipton's. Don't make this recipe if you don't have it. So I lightly grilled some fresh onions and mushrooms in about a 1/2 cup of bouillon and chopped them up fine. I suspect it will be "OK," but won't be fabulous.

After I finished the meatballs I had one of the fruit compotes. It was OK. Next time, I'll leave out the dried bananas.

All this culinary effort has made me sleepy. I'm down for a nap. Love retirement.

Three Word Wednesday for Monday Memories

Bone posts "three words every Wednesday (perhaps Tuesday night even, oh wishful thinker that I am). Your mission is to write something"--a poem, story, sentence, anything–using all three words. Then you leave a comment at the 3WW site letting people know they should visit your blog. For January 16 the 3WW cue was

Awkward
Kitchen
Obsessed

<--------------------------------->
My mother wasn't obsessed with remodeling the awkward kitchen in the homes my father bought, but her eyes widened and her fingers seemed to twitch when she first saw them. Every house my father found seemed to have an outdated kitchen--and sometimes Mother hadn't seen the house before he purchased it. The earliest home I remember at 203 East Hitt Street in Mt. Morris was not old enough to be horribly outdated--being perhaps 30 years old--but it probably received fresh paint and new curtains for the southern exposure kitchen window. The wall cabinets had heavy pull-out drawers. I remember dragging them out like stair steps for climbing to reach something. And then falling.

The first home in Forreston was a disaster--an old 19th century farm house with a cold water hand pump in the kitchen and an outdoor toilet. Mother rose to the challenge, remodeling the kitchen and installing a bathroom using one of the smaller bedrooms. When it was livable, dad bought a very nice brick home a few blocks away. It was well designed with beautiful woodwork and amazing closets (each closet had a closet), but the kitchen sink with a sloping drain board hung on the wall. Even a skirt to disguise it didn't help and the ice box (no refrigerator) was on the back porch. Mother went to work and built a standard sized sink cabinet and bought a refrigerator, and then built an eating nook with a wrap around bench which was all the rage then. But the bold colors of the late 1940s were her undoing. I think she clipped too many articles from Better Homes and Gardens, because she painted the linoleum deep maroon, and speckled it (sort of like the 90s craze for faux painting) by dipping a crumpled newspaper in white paint and patting it on the maroon floor. It looked like a frisky puppy ran through spilled paint and dashed through the kitchen.

In 1951 Dad bought several different houses in Mt. Morris, the first two being too small for a family of six, so he traded the second for our wonderful home at 4 South Hannah in March, again with an awkward, dated kitchen. I've used this photo before, but it's all I have to show the features--the old turn of the century wall cabinets to the ceiling with work space about 12" deep, radiator for heat over which Mother had built a shelf, a very tall window, and a wood table heavy with paint. What you don't see is the sink behind me hanging on the wall next to a bathroom door. The bathroom had been installed in what was probably the "carriage porch," and had four doors and a washer and dryer--a door to the backyard and the kitchen plus two other doors to the basement and the music room/dad's office. In front of me in this photo was a door and a window to an enclosed back porch which had cabinets for storage. Mother remodeled this kitchen in late 1955 and again we had a table with a built in bench (they really aren't very convenient, but were very popular then). She only enjoyed it three years.


Their final house in Mt. Morris at 315 East Lincoln Street was probably less than ten years old when they bought it in 1958, and although not dated, the kitchen was awkward and tiny. Out came Mother's box of magazine clippings and down came some walls. She hired a carpenter who built her dream design--a wonderful plan that lasted her over thirty years, and cost at least half the value of the house (which is probably why dad didn't sell it).

In the 1960s she began remodeling her parents' home place as a retreat center, a huge house between Franklin Grove and Ashton. She had tongue and groove cabinetry installed to match some of the original from 1908, and removed the cook stove to install a washer and dryer enclosed behind doors. It was a wonderful, bright and airy gathering spot.

Mom had one last kitchen to tackle before her final reveal. When she and dad moved into their retirement home in Pinecrest Apartments in 1997 their unit was quite new, but not convenient for a short, 80-something woman with a few opinions about kitchens. She hired a carpenter to build in sliding and roll out shelves in all the kitchen cabinets for easy access. She didn't do much cooking during her final years, but she was quite proud of her efforts and when her daughters and grand daughters visited, we appreciated again her knack for handling bad kitchens.