Pies talk in my house. As Thanksgiving approaches, I try to stay "under the radar" as my family decides who will make what, but it's only a matter of time.  Hours.  I'll be asked to make the pies.

I do OK. Don't get me wrong, I even enjoy it, but I have a problem and I know it can't just be me.  Whenever I use my oven, my smoke alarm goes off. Just so I'm clear, there's no smoke...ever...but if I so much as THINK about baking something, the shrill sounds of mayhem pierce the house...and that's just the beginning.

I believe this smoke alarm was created to alert the entire neighborhood. The sound is indescribable. The pitch is something I've never heard before.  Dogs show up. Seriously.

Once it triggers, stopping it is like  a "who's on first" movie... hysterical to everyone but me. I open the windows.  I fan it with my Anthropologie dish towel...the one thats only for show!!! This fanning technique usually stops it  long enough to move on and just when you forget about it, it triggers again.

I once hit it so hard it feel out of the wall and was hanging by it's electrical wiring. That's they way it stayed until the next time I baked and it still went off despite it battered shape.

Enough is  enough. I got a stepladder, grabbed it and pulled it out of the wall. It was still beeping... detached.

I took out the battery. It still beeped.

I threw it in the trunk of my car. It's still there. But its not beeping anymore.  Winning!