Burn, baby, burn.

So it's been a busy week. I've been to town three times this week, when normally I shoot for once. Tuesday was grocery shopping and dr. appt. Wednesday was job hunting with Sean. And Thursday was a dr appt for Lu and two medical tests for me and a job interview for Sean. Like I said, busy, not much fun and I'm exhausted. I'm also trying to get all the household things taken care of so I can leave for Myrtle Beach on Monday night. Where I plan to spend a week doing not a whole hell of a lot. Should cancel out the suckfest that was yesterday.

But Wednesday night, hubby had to burn down an old picnic shelter. They are making room for a new archery range to go in that spot and the old shelter had to go. He'd already dropped the roof, so basically it was the roof on top of the concrete slab with brush between and brush piled on top. So he texts me at 5:30 "Are you coming down to watch? We're ready." Um. Not really what I wanted to do, I mean it's really cold out, gonna be dark soon, and I don't feel well. But in the interest of being supportive and since he obviously wanted me too, I went. Couldn't talk Sean into it though. So I pull up and park on the side of the road and then walk out to the shelter. It's him and his volunteer F. Then some other people show up who wanted to come out and watch. So he lights it. There's no whoosh and it explodes in flame. I guess that's just in the movies. In fact, it's burning so slowly that I completely understand why the local fire department didn't see the need to be here. I'm bored. And thinking about the fact that I still have to make supper when I go in.

So I ask him "Is this it?". And he tells me no. Just to wait and eventually it'll get going really well. Then I tell him he should have reminded me to put long johns on because it's really cold. He assures me that soon the fire will be keeping me plenty warm. Yawn. Sure. But eventually one side catches really well and if you squat down and look through the rafters you can see the fire being sucked to this side. That was pretty awesome. And the next thing I know, it's really burning. And flames are shooting up in the sky. And I'm not cold. In fact, I've taken several steps back. And then some more because the front of my jeans are really hot. Now the fire is going in earnest and it is a sight to behold. I'm mesmerized. And then I remember that I'm scared of fire. Like really scared. Like I think it would be one of the most horrible ways to die ever. I think I might have died in a fire in a previous life. Probably I was burned at the stake. Then I think about this movie that I watched when I was younger called "The Legacy". And how this lady was standing by the fireplace and the fire leapt out and got her. I take several more steps backwards.

But honestly, the fire is beautiful. It is a wonder to behold. Looking at the burning rafters, it's almost like the flames are performing this intricate dance. They look like their moving in slow motion. It's almost hypnotic. And in places where it burns through the roof, the tar from the shingles catches and it rains down through the other flames. Little bright pieces of flame dripping down. Then I remember that hubby said we couldn't roast marshmallows over this fire because of the shingles. Not to mention, you'd need like a ten foot stick, because no way you're getting closer than that. So I find hubby.

Me: What about the shingles burning? Is that smoke dangerous?

Hubby: Well, I think it's okay as long as you don't go over and snort up a bunch of it.

Me: Really? Wow. Because that was totally my plan. Snort massive lungfuls of black poisonous smoke. Thanks for clearing that up.

He just looked at me. By this time the flames are shooting so far up that they are taller than the tops of the trees. I'm surprised the neighbors aren't worried and haven't called the fire department. Apparently they're used to it.

Hubby: Well, now it's a fire!

Me: Really? What was it before? Because it's looked like a fire to me the whole time.

Hubby: It was just a baby fire. Now it's as big as the ceremony fires we have for the OA.

Me: But it's summer time when you do those!!

Hubby: Yeah.

Me: But it's like super hot standing here now. It's like 90 degrees then!! Are you standing this close??

Hubby: No, we're standing way far back, but we're still sweating our balls off.

Me: Um. Why? (Wondering why the male species does strange things)

Hubby: Because it impresses the ordeal candidates. They talk about it for years.

Me: Really? Remember that time we were at the OA camp out and the fire was so huge that we were sweating to death and you got heat exhaustion? Yeah...good times. *shaking my head* Do guys ever think that bigger might not be better?

Hubby looks at the other two guys standing there. They all shake their heads.

Guys: Nope. That's just crazy talk.

Soon after I left and went home to make dinner. I left the guys standing around, staring at their handiwork, smoking cigars and patting themselves on the back.

♥Spot

Aack! I will never go MIA again. Wait, that's probably a lie...

So I haven't been online in like two days. I know right?! You're probably all like omg did you have withdrawal symptoms? Were you deathly ill? Wtf? But no. I wasn't deathly ill. I may or may not have had the shakes. My daughter got home Monday and she had Dr.s appointments and an infinite list of things to accomplish and then I had to spend time with my family and grocery shop and well, my other life seriously cut into my computer life if you will. So I've spent all morning trying to catch up with at least everyone's most recent blogs and now my head feels like it may possibly explode. But I did have a wonderful time hanging out with Molly and Sean for the last two days. And I have a new tattoo to show for it. See what happens when I'm not online??!

First...Monday my husband comes home from his side job and since we have to meet our oldest adopted son and his gf who's also my bff for dinner that night since it's Brian's bday my hubby hops right in the shower. When he gets out of the shower he says-

him: What kind of dope are you smoking?

Me: (completely confused bc I'm not smoking dope, I'm laying on the couch in the family room half heartedly looking at a magazine while Molly spends an entire hour looking for a photo to put on her new blog.) Huh?

him: The Boogeyman post (read it on G & H). What the hell?

Me: (getting up and following him into our room) What do you mean? How did you even see that? I posted it while you were gone. (Plus, I don't think he even knows how to get to my blog. He's technoretarded.)

him: your friend was reading it on her iphone and she came and read it to me and Brian.

Me: So you didn't think it was funny? (He so doesn't get me).

him: sure it was funny. (Thanks for the ringing endorsement dear.) She was laughing hysterically, that's why she read it to us.

Me: But you didn't think it was funny? (I may or may not have used my pouty voice here.)

him: Sure it was funny. (He's so overboard with the praise.) But where do you come up with this shit?

Me: um. Maybe if you paid attention when I was talking you'd realize that I say this kind of shit all the time. This is further proof that you tune me out. Ha! You've just busted yourself.

him: OK punkin. (That's what he says when he's humoring me.)

And then Tuesday morning he did it again. I got up, felt like death warmed over and had to go to town to run 50 bajillion errands with the kids. So I stumbled into the kitchen to get coffee and he was making a sandwich-

him: What's up cutie?

Me: I think I woke up in hell, but it looks suspiciously like a Tuesday morning.

him: (no response he just went back to making his sandwich)

But on the plus side, Mo was in one of her "I'm bored and need to do something drastic" moods so she talked me & Sean into getting the tattoos we'd been talking about for months. I got "mathair" on my right wrist, which is Gaelic for mother. She got "deirfiur" which is sister in Gaelic and Sean got "dearthair" which is brother. But that is a whole other blog. With a picture.

missed you like the crazy person that I am,
♥Spot