This is an opinion column

Last week’s Thanksgiving meal was planned to perfection. The turkey had been selected with care and was ready to be popped into the oven. Friends were bringing side dishes of green beans, mac and cheese, and dressing from my husband’s family recipe.

The pies were baked by professional cooks who own four popular restaurants. The long table was set festively and there was room for 14 guests. All seemed perfect. Until it didn’t. Reality blew in with the Colorado snow and plans had to be changed quickly.

First, one of the eyes on the gas stove wouldn’t turn off. It was continually burning. Our daughter-in-law called a friend who is a repairman. He said to use it you have to turn the gas off and on, which is impractical and dangerous. The second repairman said the stove was really old and needed to be replaced, but not by tomorrow—Thanksgiving Day. If anyone tried to use the defective stove, the house might blow up, he said, and wished everybody a happy holiday, leaving some cookies his son had made in school just to cheer us up.

Next, the ceiling smoke alarms kept beeping, beeping, until my daughter-in-law called the fire department who came right over. Telluride is a small town. The fire department was right around the corner. They stopped the beeping and did a few tests. No reason to worry, they said, no carbon monoxide was in the air.

They wished us a happy holiday and left, stomping the snow off their boots before climbing back into their firetruck.