Friday, November 21, 2008

Where's the Fire?

Denial is a powerful thing. I say that to myself a lot. Probably because I make use of denial often. Like, for instance, when I hear crackling coming from the kitchen and even get a whiff of smoke, I will still tell myself that the kitchen could not possibly be on fire.

I was sitting in the living room writing. I was quite distracted and really into my imaginary world. So, when Grumpy wanted lunch, I told him to go ahead and make himself something to eat. He decided to make Ramen noodles.

He filled a pot of water, turned on the stove, and went downstairs to continue his playacting and mouth noises. After a while, I came out of the world of my own making to hear crackling. I thought maybe there was a bit of dried food getting crusted over even more or maybe there was a bit of water that was reacting to the heat.

I told Grumpy that maybe he should go into the kitchen and make sure the stove wasn't on fire. He ran up the stairs and stopped dead in his tracks. "The stove is on fire!" he yells. For a second, I didn't believe him and my mouth was already forming a smirk when he turns to look at me. There was no indication that he was pulling my leg. The kid was serious.

I jumped up out of my favorite comfy chair and ran into the kitchen. There was my Pampered Chef stone cracked into pieces and a plastic bowl that had been sitting on top of it was in flames. I ripped open the fridge and looked around wildly for the baking soda. There it was sitting on the top shelf. I grabbed it and noticed that it had been unopened.

Right about this time, the smoke detectors went off. The piercing noise was enough to wake the dead or the neighbors at least. I'm still trying to rip open the box of baking soda when everyone else come running upstairs to see what is going on. During my wrestling match with the box, I looked around to see mouths open and shocked eyes. Finally, in defeat I grabbed a steak knife and gritting my teeth cut open the box. All this time, the fire was still going strong. I promptly poured baking soda onto my pour defeated Pampered Chef stone.

Waving aside smoke billowing around me, I turned to Grumpy. "That's what you do when there's a fire," I began. I finished my lecture with, "And don't ever use the stove again." I could have begun hyperventilating and looked around for a paper bag, but frankly, since the danger has passed, I'm too busy mourning over my stone.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Miscellaneous Sunday

During Sunday School hour yesterday, I was going over a particular verse with Sleepy. I wanted him to memorize it and so we worked on it together for a while. During this time, I kept hearing, "Why do I have to do this? I'm only six."

After repeating the same verse over and over, I asked, "Do you want to do it again?" to which he scrunched up his face, thought about it, and replied, "Why don't we wait until I grow up?"


(I am also proud to say that I ended up with nothing revolting-looking smeared all over my face. My husband did keep a close eye on that for his accident-prone wife. At one point during the day, though, he brought me one of the earrings that I had been wearing. It was found on the floor and someone had picked it up and asked him about it. Of course, he knew who's earring it was and patiently brought it to me. So, for a little while there, I was wearing only one earring.)

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Nightmare on Motel Drive

A few nights ago, I had a dream. Actually, it was more like a nightmare. In it, our whole family was staying in one motel room with the dog. (This has actually happened in real life, although we only had three kids at the time.)

In my "dream", we were getting ready to leave when we noticed the smell of dog poop. When we investigated, we found a horse pile of dog poop up against the wall under the heater. Doc took one look at it and announced that he wasn't cleaning it up. He was going to leave it for the motel cleaning ladies to deal with it.

I was in agreement. I wasn't going near it. I just shrugged and said, "She's your dog." So, as we finished packing up, we all had to deal with the horrendous stench filling the small room. Crinkling up my nose, I took a bag and began filling it with the toys that had been strewn all over the room.

I picked up toy after toy. There were toys in the corners, under the beds, and under the blankets and pillows. In fact, they were everywhere. Just when I thought I had picked them all up, there would be more somewhere else.

I was still picking up toys when I woke up. The room was dark and I noticed that it was still very early in the morning. I realized that my dream wasn't just a dream. It was my life. I still have to clean up the occasional horse pile of crap left behind by Leigh and her picky stomach. I still have to constantly step aside toys that are carried upstairs by disobedient children.

The one thing that stood out, though, in my nightmare was Doc's uncharacteristic reaction to the dog poop. I thought it was kind of funny considering he would pronounce that action as a totally white trash thing to do.

Methinks, I need to dream better dreams......or "accidentally" lose the dog and put fire to all the toys.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Pollen Face

There comes a time when it's not my kids that give me the blog fodder. Yep. Yours truly has provided the tale this time.

Yesterday, some very nice people asked me to take some flowers home with me. Due to the lack of space in our seven passenger car, the flowers were relegated to sitting on my lap. Since they were blocking my view and taking up quite a bit of space, we opted to hand them over to a nice couple that Doc was going to spend a few minutes with at their house.

After Doc safely handed the flowers to me in the car, he went around and got in the driver's seat. I turned to look at him as he said something and as he saw my face, the man actually recoiled from me in horror.

"What is that all over your chin?!" he exclaimed wildly. My forehead scrunched in confusion and I whipped open the mirror above me. I started in horror as well when I saw smears of something that looked like ketchup all over my chin. "Oh! It must be pollen from the flowers!" Doc was quite relieved that I hadn't been walking around in church with ketchup smeared all over my chin.

He gave a big sigh of relief and laughed while I giggled at the assumption. I wiped the pollen off as best I could and we took off to dispose of the flowers.

When we got to the couples' house, Doc took the flowers from me and the boys and I settled in to wait for a few minutes. After a while, Doc came back with the gentleman so that he could have a few words with me. He provided eggs for us as usual and some candy for the boys and I thanked him profusely for his generosity.

While we were talking, the poor man had a hard time looking at me and I thought that maybe that was just his mannerism or he was shy. I didn't think about it much and we said goodbye. I turned my head to the front and as I turned I saw my face in the side view mirror of the car.

I pursed my lips and with a shrug turned to face my husband. "Well, I've gone and done it this time," I think to myself. Erupting with laughter, I turned my face for my husband's perusal. "Doc, I just had a conversation with the man with pollen all over my face." Indeed, it looked like I had wrestled with a ketchup packet and the ketchup won. Streaks of pollen were all over the right side of my face.

Again, Doc recoiled in horror, covered his face with his hands, and groaned. I laughed even harder at this reaction. Eventually, his shoulders began to shake. The man was given over to laughter as well and we laughed all the way down the long, bumpy drive.