The hottest news in yogurt making.

I’ve been meaning to write an update to “Lactobacillus love: Is it wrong?” Making yogurt in the slow cooker was pretty easy in the summer, but autumn brought several fails in a row – and I never could get the process right while up in Alaska last summer. So I went online to research what I might be doing wrong.

Turns out I should have been making sure the milk was heated to 180 degrees and then cooled to between 105 and 110 degrees, and also making sure of a guaranteed, long-lasting source of warmth. The latter isn’t easy in a cooler or downright cold season.

One writer suggested heating the oven to 100 degrees, then shutting it off (but leaving the oven light on), then putting the covered bowl of milk and starter in to “cook.” Despite the current cold snap in Anchorage, this worked great.

That is, until I set my friend’s oven on fire.

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Mind the gap, especially on escalators.

As I got off the Underground an elderly woman was slowly trailing behind me, pulling a suitcase. I got one of those little mental flashes that said, “Let her go. Watch her.” So I stopped and fiddled with my pack and suitcase until she was in front of me.

The woman went around a corner and I lost sight of her briefly. Then I saw this flash of movement off to my left. It was a middle-aged guy making a Superman-like leap up onto the escalator. I swear he made five steps in one bound.

It was to rescue the elderly woman, who had fallen backwards and was lying all twisted as the escalator moved her slowly, inexorably upwards. She hadn’t made a sound.

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Two little boys, all alone.

I was at the post office today mailing two long-delayed giveaway prizes (sorry, Diana and Denise — they’re on their way!). A young man came in carrying an infant car seat. While waiting in line I saw him smiling at the baby and making the occasional funny face. What a loving father, I thought.

As I got into my vehicle I saw two little boys, aged about 3 and 4, in the adjacent vehicle. One of the children caught my eye and smiled. The car’s windows were rolled down. No adult was in sight.

I started to back out of the parking space — and then pulled forward once more. It just didn’t seem right to leave two kids unsupervised.

Eventually their dad returned. You guessed it: He was the guy carrying the car seat.

“What took you so long, daddy?” one boy asked fretfully.

Good question.

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