Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Flame Broiled

When we last left our heroine she was poised with a fork in her hand ready to poke. Thankfully she was talked down by the spoon, who conveniently had some cookie dough on it.

Believe me that spoon had to talk fast.

We have a wood burning stove that is my winter love affair. Burnie (yes, I know that's not how you spell that) really can heat things up and I have to say has burned me a few times with our hot romance. But I just can't quit him. Especially when I live in frozen nose hair land and live in an old house that no matter how much crap we shove around the doors, the warm goodness known as heat still runs out.

So Burnie got a little smokin hot after Hubs loaded it up as we were going to wally world for the loading of the carts. We were all in the living room, no where near Burnie, finishing up the grocery list. I was just coming out to grab my coupons when I noticed Burnie was making the noise that drives fear into my heart - God bless that chocolate covered lump as it's still a bit shaken.

I tend to freak when the metal heats up and makes a ticking noise that I've asked Hubs a brazillion times if it was safe. After hearing a brazillion times that it is safe, I still get a bit skert. So when I heard the crackling noise in the pipe, I may have shoved J out of the way, jumped over the coffee table and closed the air supply to kill the fire. I didn't need to see the temperature gage of 650 to know there was a fire in the pipe - not the chimney - but the pipe leading to the chimney. The crackle of creosote catching on fire and falling, the smell of hot metal, the screaming of me for Hubs to get off his butt and do something. What fun.

While there was no damage or anything, it's just further proof why I keep Clairol in business. Scared the willies right out of me.

Then came the blame game of why did you cram so much wood in there? Only to receive the explanation of we were leaving and didn't want the fire to die out. I said I would rather deal with a dead fire than a dead house.

I'm so demanding. How he stands me, I'll never know.

But I did give that fork a loooong look. And that spoon was really a sweet talker.

Once things had cooled down and everything was safe, Hubs announced it was time to go.
Me, being me, suggested we wait.
The guys all claimed we were out of food and needed to go.
I said I wasn't so sure.
Hubs reminded me I would have to cook something if we didn't leave so out the door we went.

I was feeling a bit spiteful and suggested taco bomb. I was given the look and was reminded we had coupons for BK. I already felt flame broiled from Burnie and I can't say as I was sure this was such a great plan. After I watched N and M inhaled a double whopper and J eat a triple stacker, I wasn't sure if I was impressed or slightly nauseous. I couldn't even finish the single whopper and Nicholas asked to finish it. And I'm the fat one! Where is the fairness of that?? It's like my metabolism was murdered in my sleep or something. Not only do I have the crazy woman thing, the yeti gene, but the fat gene as well.

Can I have a different pair of genes?

But I was happy to go to the grocery store as we were out of lotion. My dried skin cried for moisture and horror of all horrors was out. All I had was tanning oil which is hilarious because I can't tan. Not that I don't try - can't. So there I was in the irony called my life, spraying my butt white self down with tanning oil to give my skin some sweet blessed relief.

Jared ask me why did I smell like summer and I told him he was smelling things. Yes, I lied to my child. It's called parenthood. I even went a step further and pulled out lemon oil and rubbed down a few things. I think it was the guilty feeling rising up to smack me upside the head.

When Hubs caught a whiff of the lemon oil, he asked if there was a reason. I think he smelled the guilt through that lemon smoke screen. After I explained it all to him, he gave me a really weird look which makes me ask myself why did I bother. They don't get half of what I do. I don't get half of what I do, let alone have to explain it to the guys.

Right about now there are a couple of people that will declare progress has been made at me admitting I don't have a clue.

I will, of course, deny everything. Regardless that this blog could be used as proof.

There's always the fork.

Just saying.

6 comments:

grandmamargie said...

I am so glad no damage was done to your house and all are safe. I understand about the dry skin, I use a lot of baby oil. After I take a bath, before I get out, I rub myself down with it, then lightly rinse. Helps so much. My hands are a whole different story, they stay dry.dry.dry. Have a good day.

Jen said...

Remind me not to make you mad when there's a fork in your hand!!

Young Wife said...

So glad you're all safe! Frozen nose hair land - Ha!

Joanna said...

Margie I tried that but got banned when Fred about slid out of the shower. Something about an oil slick being harmful to his health. :}

Anonymous said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Lauren said...

I just love your style of writing. Write a chic-lit novel. Please. :)