Saturday, December 19, 2015

The real Porno for Pyros

Yesterday, as the mercury plummeted to a level where a jacket was deemed necessary, it finally became cold enough in Georgia to build a fire in the fireplace. Although I always appreciate seventy degree weather in December, the sudden chill in the air, like shoving through the crowds of overzealous mothers clawing the last available doll at Toys r' Us, does seem to be seasonably appropriate.

Whenever it is fireplace weather there is always this underlying competition of who can build a better fire from scratch, me or Kim. I feel superior because I was a Girl Scout, spending much of my youth heaving and hawing through the woods with sit up-ons and tuna can fire starters. I pride myself on knowing how to build an oven out of a wine box wrapped in aluminum foil and have no problem throwing on an old pair of boots in order to scavenge the depths of the woods to find the best dry kindling to start a fire.

Kim was a Blue Bird. I know Blue Birds eventually turned into Campfire Girls and obviously with that title they would have the appropriate skills to maintain a blazing fire in the hearth.

Whenever Kim starts the fire I always get in trouble for trying to rearrange her logs. "Get out of there," she says to me as I sneak over trying to maximize air flow under the grate. It seems hilarious now, but years ago we actually got into an argument over our competitive management of the fireplace.

She seems to have no recollection of what she learned as a Blue Bird, just that she was one. Even though I feel as if I have superior fire training, I would love to actually hear from some other Blue Birds out there, just to give Kim some extra support because even though everyone is the best fire starter in their own mind, it probably depends most on WHO is telling the story!
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