Don't Play With Fire

Happy New Year and all that.

Happy Birthday, Elvis.

Etc.

Yesterday was an interesting day for me. As you know, if  you are anywhere near here, we got around four inches of snow and extremely cold weather.

No, Yankee, I don't  mean fifty degrees, ha, ha. You are so funny.

We got wind chill of ten below. The high yesterday wasn't. And since we live on Ice Mountain, we stayed home.

The alternative was wrecking our car.

So, we built a fire and kept it going all day, which I loved. It's my daddy's genes.

I cooked, which everyone else loved. Well, I did, too. I like good food and this meal was good.

There were just a few things that went wrong.

I was reaching into the middle desk drawer for a ruler to measure the snow. Unbeknownst to me, someone (Husband) had put a sheet of glass in there. Guess who's finger got sliced?

Then, I was closing the window upstairs (we had opened it so Daughter could get a clear picture of the sun on the icicles) and I closed the window on one of my fingers.

At least it wasn't the one I sliced open.

How did  you like the photo of the sun on the icicles?

That's right, Daughter took it, but hasn't shared it. She's so busy doing nothing....

The fire: (in the fireplace, don't be alarmed) We were putting more logs on the fire at one point and set the fire screen down out of the way.

 On our new rug.

Our new rug now has a  nice, long burnt place. Why did we do this you ask? Because we are stupid, duh.

Anyway, when I turned on the gas starter to get the fire going, I may have turned to lefty lucy a teensy bit too far. Flames lept into the room, including my arm and face, but it was only for a second.

I admit I said a "bad" word out of fright, not pain.

So, last night I'm getting ready for bed. My hair is a mess, 'cause I neglected it. I started to comb it and thought, "What is that stuff falling out of my hair in front? It looks like plastic."

Alas, it was singed hair.

Lots of it.

When I finished picking my jaw up off the floor, I inspected the damage.

Lordy, lordy.

Let's just say the front of my hair is now sporting a new look.

Sorta like when your first grader cuts her own bangs.

And my right eye eyelashes were singed, too. But not to worry. My eyelashes are so blonde and short, and my eyes so deep set that you probably won't notice.

I know you hope to see me soon, but I can't say I feel the same way.