We had Uncle Jeff and Aunt Carol, Jerry, Bonnie, and the somewhat-better Sam over for our more-or-less annual post-Christmas dinner tonight. A good time was had by all, punctuated by the smoke alarm that fired repeatedly when I put the bread in the oven to heat after removing the pulled pork that had boiled over a bit on the floor of the oven, spreading apple juice and pork fat. This would have been ok, except Gretchen read the instruction that said to increase the heat to 400 degrees, which was pretty much the last straw for the spill, which smoked a lot. I might have paid more notice to the smoke, except I was concentrating on shredding the pork. Oops. The smoke alarm (which we kept canceling) produced eight different messages on my cellphone and three calls from the monitoring service.