Thursday, January 24, 2008

boy, it's a good thing I'm supermom, huh?

"Hey mom, you know that hero report I did? Yeah? Well we have to dress up like our hero tomorrow morning." nice. What ever happened to the "Mom, I have to bring cookies to school" crap? With the hero being Christa McAuliffe (the first teacher to go into space when the space shuttle exploded back in the 80's), you can't just pick up a space suit from the HyVee bakery department. I think I did pretty damn good for the evening before. I also had offered to cover a bowl in aluminum foil as a space helmet, but being an 11 year old fashionista, my daughter passed on that one. You don't EVEN want to know where my brain was going when Lizzie said her teacher said to "be creative" and do a before and after the heroic event costume. Um, yeah. Maybe that would have worked better with someone like Laura Ingalls Wilder, little girl on the prairie, grown up author. Um, before=teacher/astronaut. after=boom. Yeah, I thought the sweatshirt and sticky-backed felt was a better idea there. I told her to carry a stack of books like she's a teacher, then an astronaut and just skip the whole acting out the ending business. I did make her do most of the work on cutting out the letters and fitting it on there, so it was good old bonding mom & daughter craft time.

More socks done. Finished these up with a teensy bit of yarn left over for future darning if necessary. Wollmeise yarn, color Gewitterhimmel (stormy heavens), needles 1.5 hiya-hiya metal dpns. LOVE those needles. The yarn had enough for a pair for mom and one for Joey. I'm also almost ready for the heel on my smooshy socks from birthday yarn. Since it's all of 12 degrees outside, I'm sure these socks should get some good wear before long.

So, you've all heard about how cotton burns and wool smolders but stops immediately when the fire source is removed, right? Well, it's true. Ask me how I know. Go ahead, ASK ME! Well, I'm glad you asked. See the smoldering log on the left in the fireplace insert? See it sitting nicely INSIDE the firebox? That was AFTER a bit of fireworks in the house. Ever heard of burning hedge wood? It's that unbelievably hard, dense wood that early farmers used as fence posts hundreds of years ago and they're still standing. The wood is almost petrified. Well, when that wood starts to burn and then fresh air gets in, it sparks like the 4th of July. No, not quite like the 4th of July because those sparks are IN THE SKY. These were IN MY FACE and apparently a few settled on my arm. The mild-mannered log on the left decided to try to roll out in the midst of the fun. I couldn't get it shoved in there enough to shut the damn doors and the sparks were just getting thicker and crazier. EVERYWHERE. I see this FLASH of flame. ON MY FREAKING ARM. The whole stop, drop and roll just somehow didn't stick in my brain. My sleeve was ON FREAKING FIRE. I went more with the flail arm about wildly (fanning the flame), curse loudly and jump around until I grabbed the edge of the big Zimmermanish vest thing I was wearing (made from yarn from Joanna, bless her fire-putting-out stash) which smothered the flames, used superhuman strength and shoved the damn log back into the firebox, slammed the door and sat down panting. I looked at my sleeve and the cotton edge of the sleeve was charred black, apparently cotton shirts make quite the fire starter. I should email survivorman, wonder if he knows that. The Zimmerman vest? Not even a scratch. I even pulled out a tiny chunk of sparked wood that was still smoldering from the thick wooly stitches and dropped it in the pot of water on top of the stove. No burns, no horrible stuff. Just an even bigger love of all things wooly and natural and Zimmermanny. Usually Jeff takes stove duty. We pretty much heat the whole Weasley house with firewood since we're able to come by it free. Since Jeff had been traveling a great deal lately, I'd become NATURE GIRL, almost enjoying the clear mind that comes to you while "wood chuckin'" (carrying wood in from the pile by the side of the house to the garage) and was getting quite cocky in my Nautre Girl abilities. I've officially turned all things fire-related back over to Nature Boy himself. Most of the problem was that after burning wood for almost a week at a pretty steady rate left this big angle of ashes and the logs want to roll right out at you if you don't do the shoveling ashes thing. Nature Girl will chuck wood, but she could find 45 other chores she'd rather do than shovel ashes.

Later while knitting I kept getting this smell of steaks. Grilled steaks. At first I thought the neighbors were grilling. Then I realized it was 1 degree outside and almost 11pm. Then I smelled my arm. Yup. Somehow I'd got the stink of singed meat without actually burning myself. cripes. Washed and slathered my arm in lotion and went back to knitting, but I can totally still smell it.

OH and the month-old fudge? It rocked.

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