And Then The Three Fire Trucks Came...

I had a delightful dinner last night with my pal Marie. She's my friend that got herself divorced as a 70th birthday present to herself.

Marie's oldest daughter, Colleen, is the original Earth Mother. She and her gourmet-cook husband Jeff have five kids, two dogs, a beautiful Victorian full of comfy couches and house plants and original art. And the Thanksgiving table that can seat 16 people. And it all caught fire two days ago.

Colleen was cleaning the kitchen, tidying things up, putting things away. And she picked up her candle-making supplies and chucked them into the empty oven, just to get them off the kitchen counter.

A couple of hours later, Colleen's out in the back yard with the kids, and Jeff comes home. He decides to surprise the kids with home baked chocolate chip cookies. And he turns on the oven, up high, to preheat.

The next bit of excitement was the candle wax (twenty pounds of it) exploding in a fireball out the BACK of the oven. And through the wall. And set the dining room drapes on fire. Ka-Boom!

So everybody in the back yard comes running in the house. Just as the dining room chairs are igniting. Colleen picks up the two smallest kids, one under each arm, and says, "Out the front door, Kids! Now!"

And then she looks back and sees Jeff just standing there, fixated, with a big oven mitt on each hand. Colleen tells him, "Come on! We all have to get out!" And, in a supreme "guy" moment, Jeff says, "No, you and the kids go on ahead. I think I can fix this."

So then three fire trucks came. And the insurance adjuster came. And declared $12,000 damage and that Colleen gets to pick out a whole new kitchen and dining room. And the adjuster sent Steamtronic Cleaners over the next day.

And the whole time Marie is telling me this, over our enchiladas, I am thinking is how this would have played out with my Ex. The ultimate concern would be B-L-A-M-E. And the crapola afterwards, on and on and on. And all the extra heaping helpings of S-H-A-M-E transference.

And this post, Dear Hearts, is about how, you know, even house fires are easier with nice, normal, functional spouses.

Janelle