Archive | July, 2012

And another after-school message brought to you by…

19 Jul

OK- so I’m going to get all dramatic up in here and tell you this long drawn-out story, but I could save lives here so please, please continue to the finish!!

One of my most feared things is fire.  I can’t explain it, but I’m scared of fire, fireworks, bonfire, matches, basically any kind of fire frightens me, as if in my past life I was involved in an accident that involved fire.  I know, weird.  And because of this vice I check the stove 4 times before leaving the house.

For the past 2 days we had this strange smell in the house.  David and I could only explain it as the smell of a match blown out.  For two days we went throughout the house sniffing like freaks, trying to find the origination.

I became obsessed with it.  Was it the propane? I checked the barbecue, the bug killer, our fire place? Nope.  Was it the dryer, the dishwasher, the iron.  Negative.

For the past two nights I didn’t sleep well.  I’d wake in the middle of the night, shake David and have him smell with me.  Do you smell anything? He’d say no while still asleep.

After not finding the source, I thought it was just my neuroses, until a friend came over and I asked her to smell it too. It wasn’t just me.  And together, the three of us spent much of the night trying to find the source of the weird smell.

Today, we woke to the smell upstairs. It was much stronger than it was the night before.  I really panicked now.  David and I would be gone all day and while the kids would be with a very capable babysitter, I felt very uncomfortable.  David decided that he was going to have the fire chief come over later today to find the source.  Gotta love small towns.

Just before I left to take the kids to their golf lesson, I saw David filling up a big bucket of water.

“Did you find it?  Did you find the smell?”

He ignored me and hurriedly moved to the back patio.  I grew concerned.

You wanna know what the source of the smell was?

Four days ago, David extinguished his cigar in my potted plant on the back patio.  And for 4 days it had been smoldering in that pot in the dry soil, until it finally ignited the roots of the dead plant.  The soil on top contained what could have become flames.

That potted plant is right above our propane tank for the fireplace, and right below Evans bedroom window.

Scary stuff.

David emptied the water in the plant and it erupted in steam. The ceramic pot was hot to the touch. We were lucky.  Close call.  Lessons learned:

Don’t smoke, but if you do, it’s dry as hell out there, so don’t just throw your butts in the woods, out the car window, on the ground or in potted plants, because they could start a fire and devastate your family.

Oh, and you probably should water your plants too.

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And then…

9 Jul

If I know you, and I think that I do, I know you’ve been wondering why I’ve not posted like my normal blogging self.  And if you knew me, like I think that you do, you’ve figured out that I’m up to something.

See, I wrote Oh Brothers for many many years, until I felt a little uncomfortable writing about the kids and I got hate mail because I wrote that people should marry whoever they want.  Then I started Her-land, which was fine, I wrote about stuff other than the boys and I got more hate mail for not writing about the boys.

It appears that you missed them, and why wouldn’t you, they rock!

But it would appear, after doing such courses as Start A Blog that Matters, and now, undergoing Marie Forleo’s B-School (which is amazing BTW), that I no longer care about spray painting tin cans and wrapping mason jars with twine.  It appears, after a great deal of soul searching, that what gets me going goes much deeper than paint.

Then, a few nights ago, I was having drinks with a few friends, celebrating Daveda and Keiths 20th wedding anniversary, when we started talking about old times, and then old blogs.  We laughed as Sarah recalled me going home with one of her shoes and one of mine, only to realize it the next day.  “And I remembered you blogged about it and it read exactly like it happened!” she exclaimed.

She was right, I do have a knack for telling stories, thou sometimes embellished.

I do soooo love story telling.

So now, I don’t know where I am with this blog.  Do I write about the kids, about food, about my delightfully colorful past, I mean, what do I do with this space?

I’ll figure it out.  But in the meantime, thanks for checking in.  I’ll be back, in one form or another.