Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Last night hubby and I had dinner with friends. Friend's wife and I joke that hubby and friend are boyfriends because they go out to the movies and for drinks and are always calling each other on their cells. They're a really nice couple and I really couldn't ask for a better "boyfriend" for hubby. We always have a good time and joke a lot when with them.

Somehow, the dinner conversation got onto missionaries/volunteers from friend's old church who used to go to Appalachia during the summers to build churches and whatnot. Friend, who himself is southern and has a very colorful family, stated something to the effect of them going along roads and removing the doors from dump-off refrigerators in order to save the poor redneck children from suffocating. This led to hubby reminisicing about catching a refrigerator on fire with a magnifying glass and sunlight. Yes, the fridge was on his porch. And, no, it didn't work.

Hubby was quite the firebug as a little kid. He got the fridge flaming enough that he had to use the hose to put it out. The inner plastic lining and underlying insulation are VERY flammable. This was the second or third time he caught the porch on fire. One previous incident involved a homemade flamethrower made from a can of hairspray and a match - an effective way off killing those pesky wasps. Unfortunately screening also burns. Another time he nearly burned down the woods behind the house. His dad had put a used propane cannister in the burn barrel without telling hubby. When hubby lit the trash, the cannister exploded, shot up into the air, and caught a pine tree on fire. Again, he was able to get things under control with the water hose.

Lord help me, I hope the peanut doesn't have daddy's pyro tendencies. Otherwise I'm sure hubby will use the same ineffective deterrant his mom used: "Don't play with fire or you'll pee your bed!"

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