Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Stop, Drop, and Roll

Stop, Drop, and Roll 4/18/2006
Several times a day, Kelly will get thoughtful and quiet. "Mom. I think that man would've been OK if he'd just remember to Stop, Drop, and Roll. Do you think he knows about "stop, drop, and roll"?"

Needless to say, the fire's still weighing rather heavily on her. But she seems very upbeat.

Ken and I talked about it that night. A little strip of mini-warehouses? One bay suddenly bursting into a fireball? Doesn't that just scream "meth lab" to you?

The next day, Saturday, Kelly and I were out delivering the draperies for the Youth Room (yes, I finished sewing and hemming all of them. All. Of. Them.). After we'd unloaded the panels (...*counts on fingers*... 13 in all, that trip, for a grand total of... 23), Kelly asked if we could go and see if the fire was out. We were nearly half way there by the time we got to the church, so we just kept heading south.

All was well on San Antonio Road. And the little strip of warehouses? Good grief, I'd make an atrocious witness if it ever came down to that. It wasn't a strip of warehouses at all. It was a store-front with an office, and behind, along a long narrow driveway, the place that had gone up in flames was a Smog Check Station. Egads.

Oh, and in case you were wondering:

I never saw anything about the fire on the news. I even tried Googling it the next day. No luck.

And I knew that I'd have a bit of run-around, calling 911 on my cell. Calls from cells go to CHP first, and then are re-directed. I was most impressed, though, I must say, at how INCREDIBLY quickly the transferring went. Seriously, it was click-click and there was another calm voice on the line. I truly had braced myself for one of those "lost on hold" horror stories, and it just Was Not.

My hat is off to those guys.

Sunday morning, after the first set of music, Ken came down from the stage (he'd been doing keyboards), and leaned over to me. I was expecting him to say something very spiritual about the music, or pious about the message.


"I had a great idea up there. I think I did the taxes wrong, and if I recalculate them, I think we'll end up paying about a third of what I originally thought. Whew, am I glad I didn't mail them off yesterday."


I think of it as Divine Intervention.

Had the 5th Annual Easter Egg Hunt at our house on Sunday afternoon.

I was really worried that it'd get competely rained out, and I'd have "Children With Impulse Control Issues" rampaging through my house looking for hidden eggs, but at the last minute, the clouds broke, and I told the kids that they'd better watch themselves on the lawn, because there was swampy bits that could eat a child alive. While the kids were sequestered in the computer room (playing Runescape, no less), I gave all the adults a bag of eggs, and sent them off in 5 directions.

Chop, chop, you don't know how long the non-rainy break will last, and some of the eggs contained perishable stuff.

After several years of 'working out the kinks', I now fill different coloured eggs for the different kids. It prevents Skip and his buddy Cole from cleaning up all the eggs before Nate even has a chance. And Nate's still collecting eggs from the middle of the lawn.

The egg-distribution (and hiding, for the older boys) had to be put on hold in the front yard, though, while I did my own "hunt" for adult goodies that had been hidden for me. Yes, I scored a bunch of empty Bud Light cans strewn across my front/side yard. One of them was still half full! Score! (or not!) Thankyou, booze-hound neighbours who have no couth.

Oh well. They're aluminum cans, and I can take them to school on Friday for recycle goodness.

And, for the record, the skies OPENED UP (complete with hail) not 15 minutes after the last egg was found, and the kids were back inside starting in on their sugar comas.

I've suddenly become a dishcloth knitting machine. I can't get enough of that cottony goodness.

A corollary of that is that Ken's wool sweater has been put on indefinite hold.

Hmm. Gotta leave to get Skip from school. His class let out 2 minutes ago.

The mailman just drove up. Kelly and Nate went to grab the mail from him, and he doled out a little bit to each of them, giving Nate the stuff that's not as hard to hold onto.

Then, when I came charging out, because I had Kelly's camp registration that HAD to go in the mail today, to hand to him, he started up a conversation.

"So, your husband's moved over to New Hip Company, has he? How's he liking it there? Was he head-hunted, or did he just want to make a change?"

Gotta love a well-informed mailman.

Ours is the best.

After uncountable days of rain, the sun has come back out.

Just in time for the kids to go back to school.

Oh, Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, where were you when we needed you during the interminable week of Spring Break?

No comments: