So last night the Ron-man and I were watching the second season of "The Tudors" (fabulous show - amazing costuming and set design, not to mention the crazy plot twists and turns) and also enjoying a wonderful fire in the fireplace. Because that's just how we roll.
I think it was shortly after a rather vigorous love scene (on the telly) that we begin hearing a quiet roar. I looked over at the fireplace and could see the little chain that's attached to the damper slowly lowering. The roaring got louder and louder and all of the sudden Ron leapt off the couch - nearly dumping me on the floor, I might add - and started yelling "We have a fire in the chimney! Call 911."
I just sat there.
Ron ran outside and apparently saw flames shooting out the top of the chimney, along with a multitude of sparks raining on the roof. He ran back inside, yelled at me to call 911 again. I calmly handed him the phone. He was now in full panic mode and I was a model of serenity. I think I'm adrenaline-deprived.
Ron told me to go get some water to put the fire in the fireplace out, so I got our purified water jug from the fridge and doused the fire. By this time there was quite a bit of smoke in the house and I could hear the fire engines approaching. They were really quick. The cops blocked our street off - it was quite the scene. I think there were two fire engines and about nine firefighters.
A word about the firefighters - very polite and thorough. And really big. Their uniforms and boots and hats - at one time there were three of them in the living room and they looked like giants.
They ended up spraying some kind of dry chemical down the chimney to put out the fire. Obviously we need to get the chimney swept. I wonder if Dick Van Dyke is available. He and his crew seemed to have such a good time up there on those London roofs in "Mary Poppins."
I know I'm downplaying the seriousness of the situation. We are extremely lucky. We live in a 70+ year old house and dramas like this often end up very differently. Had the sparks that were hitting the roof caught fire we could have lost the whole house. So I'm very grateful that we caught it in time, that we live about three blocks from the firehouse and that Ron knew immediately what was wrong.
Amen.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Life in the Fast Lane
A few days ago Kate was telling me about a race she and Morghan ran last year. Ok, Morghan ran and Kate walked. Kate was laughing that it took her twenty minutes to walk a mile. I told her that wasn't so bad - I do a twenty minute mile (actually, now it's about 17 minutes -woohoo). She then informed me that, at age 26, she should be able to walk faster than her decrepit mother. She really didn't use those terms, but that's how I heard it. Talk about getting the wind knocked out of your sails. My shoulders, which had previously been thrown back as I boasted my capabilities, were now slumped as reality set in.
Today, however, I have vindication. Kind of. As I was doing my six laps at the SMNorth track, I noticed another walker enter the track. She was about a half a lap ahead of me. And she wasn't going very fast. All of the sudden I transformed into a greyhound and she was the little fake rabbit they run around the racetrack. I picked up speed. Yep. I was gaining on her. I must tell you that I'm ALWAYS getting passed by people who are jogging on the track. I try not to let it dissuade me, but just once I wanted to pass someone. And here was my chance. "Catch the rabbit, catch the rabbit." Sure enough, after a lap of accelerated walking I PASSED HER! It was then that I noticed that she was about seventy. But I didn't care. As I was doing the victory dance in my head, I came to the realization that now that I'd passed her I had to keep ahead of her. It was AWESOME! This is what it feels like to win a race!
Not even kidding . . . about five seconds later I got passed by a chubby teenager. Scared the crap out of me - I thought it was granny running by me. I guess a kid who's at least thirty years younger than me should be able to pass me.
Ah, it was sweet while it lasted.
Today, however, I have vindication. Kind of. As I was doing my six laps at the SMNorth track, I noticed another walker enter the track. She was about a half a lap ahead of me. And she wasn't going very fast. All of the sudden I transformed into a greyhound and she was the little fake rabbit they run around the racetrack. I picked up speed. Yep. I was gaining on her. I must tell you that I'm ALWAYS getting passed by people who are jogging on the track. I try not to let it dissuade me, but just once I wanted to pass someone. And here was my chance. "Catch the rabbit, catch the rabbit." Sure enough, after a lap of accelerated walking I PASSED HER! It was then that I noticed that she was about seventy. But I didn't care. As I was doing the victory dance in my head, I came to the realization that now that I'd passed her I had to keep ahead of her. It was AWESOME! This is what it feels like to win a race!
Not even kidding . . . about five seconds later I got passed by a chubby teenager. Scared the crap out of me - I thought it was granny running by me. I guess a kid who's at least thirty years younger than me should be able to pass me.
Ah, it was sweet while it lasted.
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