Fires
Note: This post was originally entitled "Light 'Em Up, Boys", until I realized that it was popping up on searches about the recent shooting. The search results that included that title plus information about the shooting might have given a fringe element the idea that the title referred to a post encouraging people to shoot policemen. Obviously it does not, but I'm changing it anyway.
Behind our house is an outdoor fireplace that I gave to the HP for his birthday a couple of years ago. This fireplace is currently filled to capacity with sticks and logs, and every time I find a stick in the yard, I usually stash it in the fireplace (or attempt to balance it on the overflowing pile of firewood next to the fireplace). The funny thing about that fireplace is that I will probably never light it, and not just because its springtime. I think the main thing that keeps me from taking a match to the pile is: I’m not a boy.
In conjunction with the HP's fireplace, I asked for a fleece blanket and some comfortable outdoor chairs for my birthday (8 days later) so that I could happily accompany him outside on the nights when he decided to sit by the fire. The first winter was windy and bitterly cold, so we did not go out often to sit by the fire. However, don’t take that to mean the fireplace was not used during that first winter. The HP would load it up with wood (or more often a Duraflame and a lot of sticks), light it up, and sit on the couch with one eye on the fire out the window, and the other on the TV. Every so often he would go out and poke at the fire or add wood too it, until he was either out of things to burn or ready for bed, and then he would let it burn out. Each spring he would drag it over to the side of the house and lovingly cover it with a tarp until the next fall. However, whenever we had a gathering with more than one or two male guests, the fireplace was always dragged back onto the porch and put into service.
I briefly wondered why the HP bothered with these fires that we were not going to sit by. However, I did not waste much time wondering, since everyone knows that all men are obsessed with fire, and no man has ever been able to give me a reason other than “I just like it.”
The Encarta Dictionary gives lots of definitions for fire (and I realize that this is a cheesy way to fill my 1500 words, but Wednesday is the one night of the week when I actually watch TV. I’m only doing the noun definitions here, just think how long this thing could be):
1. destructive burning of something: a situation in which something such as a building or an area of land is destroyed or damaged by burning.
Could it be that men are intrigued by fire because they are fascinated by destruction? I’ll leave aside the obvious remarks I could make about the current male leadership around the world and what has occurred at their hands. Instead I’ll focus on the one little man I see on a daily basis, the little Marty Boy. One of his new pastimes is to cheerfully announce “I’m going to make a big mess!” and start clearing table tops and throwing pillows off the couch. He’s not angry, and he’ll stop if I ask him to. But sometimes I just sit by and watch him, and he is having an absolute blast. How about it boys? Is it the thrill of destruction?
2. pile of burning fuel: a collection of material such as logs or coal that is set alight and used as fuel for heating, cooking, or burning something
3. blaze: the light, heat, and flames caused by something that is burning
4. process of burning: the rapid production of light, heat, and flames from something that is burning, e.g. in the combustion of wood, coal, or petroleum
These definitions obviously could describe what happens in a fireplace, but they also apply to the other great friend of all men – the grill. The grill is the one place that all men, anywhere, under any circumstance can find common ground. One guy may prefer a gas grill, another a charcoal one, but they are all going to stand around and stare at it and swap stories every time its lit up. I realize that the “men standing around the grill” scenario is one that has been overworked in TV shows and commercials over the years, but just because it’s a cliché doesn’t mean it’s not an apt reflection of reality. I have used charcoal grills before at drunken barbecues, but I did not attempt the gas grill until recently. The ironic thing about grilling is, you are supposed to put the meat on there and then leave it alone. No man is able to do this, and yet men are usually the grillers in the family.
5. arms discharge from guns: a discharge of ammunition from one or more guns
6. arms launch of projectile: the process or timing of sending off a missile or rocket
Oh you boys and your guns. I am not about to launch into an anti-gun tirade here, as I sit in Army housing. I’m not stupid enough to think that we don’t need a military or police and that every one would blow kisses as they walked down the street if it wasn’t for guns. I don’t think hunters should be harassed (or shot by the Vice President, but that’s another story). I’ll just add this little quote from a story I read today in the Washington Post, and let you decide whether guns are properly regulated in this country (and if you are a responsible gun owner, I am not lumping you in with this guy, but I have to think things aren’t working the way they should be right now):
The HP is not a big lover of guns, and although he can easily qualify with his weapons for work, we don’t keep one in the house (we have other defenses, like sending Lauren out to argue with intruders until they leave in frustration). However, when I read the “missile or rocket” part, I could only think of one thing – fireworks. My brothers were obsessed with fireworks when we were younger. Not the kind that you sit in a stadium and watch, but the kind that you buy at the store. You ignite them and enjoy them, and then take a moment to count your fingers and toes and eyes to make sure you did it correctly. I imagine my brothers were inspired by our older male cousins who used to put on quite an alcohol soaked fireworks display at our annual 4th of July family reunion. The spinners that were supposed to be attached to a stationary object usually ended up spinning and sparking across the yard. Whenever one of the roman candles came up a few fireballs short, one of my cousins would run to go check it before one of the grown-ups, in a passing moment of sobriety, would tell them to leave it alone.
7. continuous attack: a series of things that follow each other quickly and relentlessly, especially if hostile or intimidating
I don’t have much to say about this one, but any of you that have been on the receiving end of one of my husband’s inquiries, I think you will agree that he is familiar with this type of fire. He can launch a series of questions with such rapidity that I rarely have time to complete my answer to one when the next question is coming at me. There are times when I have attempted to end one of these episodes with “That’s it; that’s all I know; I don’t know anything else; we have exhausted my knowledge on this topic.” And still the questions continue.
8. gem's brilliance: the shine and sparkle of a gemstone
9. passion: energy, spirit, or intensity of feeling
I guess these two describe why the boys are attracted to us girls. Lucky for us, a little sparkle can bring out the “energy, spirit, or intensity of feeling” for us. Of course, we need a lot more than sparkle if we want to be noticed when there is a fireplace around. Or a grill. Or a sparkler. Or a candle. Or even a match.
Behind our house is an outdoor fireplace that I gave to the HP for his birthday a couple of years ago. This fireplace is currently filled to capacity with sticks and logs, and every time I find a stick in the yard, I usually stash it in the fireplace (or attempt to balance it on the overflowing pile of firewood next to the fireplace). The funny thing about that fireplace is that I will probably never light it, and not just because its springtime. I think the main thing that keeps me from taking a match to the pile is: I’m not a boy.
In conjunction with the HP's fireplace, I asked for a fleece blanket and some comfortable outdoor chairs for my birthday (8 days later) so that I could happily accompany him outside on the nights when he decided to sit by the fire. The first winter was windy and bitterly cold, so we did not go out often to sit by the fire. However, don’t take that to mean the fireplace was not used during that first winter. The HP would load it up with wood (or more often a Duraflame and a lot of sticks), light it up, and sit on the couch with one eye on the fire out the window, and the other on the TV. Every so often he would go out and poke at the fire or add wood too it, until he was either out of things to burn or ready for bed, and then he would let it burn out. Each spring he would drag it over to the side of the house and lovingly cover it with a tarp until the next fall. However, whenever we had a gathering with more than one or two male guests, the fireplace was always dragged back onto the porch and put into service.
I briefly wondered why the HP bothered with these fires that we were not going to sit by. However, I did not waste much time wondering, since everyone knows that all men are obsessed with fire, and no man has ever been able to give me a reason other than “I just like it.”
The Encarta Dictionary gives lots of definitions for fire (and I realize that this is a cheesy way to fill my 1500 words, but Wednesday is the one night of the week when I actually watch TV. I’m only doing the noun definitions here, just think how long this thing could be):
1. destructive burning of something: a situation in which something such as a building or an area of land is destroyed or damaged by burning.
Could it be that men are intrigued by fire because they are fascinated by destruction? I’ll leave aside the obvious remarks I could make about the current male leadership around the world and what has occurred at their hands. Instead I’ll focus on the one little man I see on a daily basis, the little Marty Boy. One of his new pastimes is to cheerfully announce “I’m going to make a big mess!” and start clearing table tops and throwing pillows off the couch. He’s not angry, and he’ll stop if I ask him to. But sometimes I just sit by and watch him, and he is having an absolute blast. How about it boys? Is it the thrill of destruction?
2. pile of burning fuel: a collection of material such as logs or coal that is set alight and used as fuel for heating, cooking, or burning something
3. blaze: the light, heat, and flames caused by something that is burning
4. process of burning: the rapid production of light, heat, and flames from something that is burning, e.g. in the combustion of wood, coal, or petroleum
These definitions obviously could describe what happens in a fireplace, but they also apply to the other great friend of all men – the grill. The grill is the one place that all men, anywhere, under any circumstance can find common ground. One guy may prefer a gas grill, another a charcoal one, but they are all going to stand around and stare at it and swap stories every time its lit up. I realize that the “men standing around the grill” scenario is one that has been overworked in TV shows and commercials over the years, but just because it’s a cliché doesn’t mean it’s not an apt reflection of reality. I have used charcoal grills before at drunken barbecues, but I did not attempt the gas grill until recently. The ironic thing about grilling is, you are supposed to put the meat on there and then leave it alone. No man is able to do this, and yet men are usually the grillers in the family.
5. arms discharge from guns: a discharge of ammunition from one or more guns
6. arms launch of projectile: the process or timing of sending off a missile or rocket
Oh you boys and your guns. I am not about to launch into an anti-gun tirade here, as I sit in Army housing. I’m not stupid enough to think that we don’t need a military or police and that every one would blow kisses as they walked down the street if it wasn’t for guns. I don’t think hunters should be harassed (or shot by the Vice President, but that’s another story). I’ll just add this little quote from a story I read today in the Washington Post, and let you decide whether guns are properly regulated in this country (and if you are a responsible gun owner, I am not lumping you in with this guy, but I have to think things aren’t working the way they should be right now):
“When Fairfax County police entered the townhouse where Michael Kennedy lived with his family, just hours after the 18-year-old had engaged in a fierce gun battle with police, they found a loaded 12-gauge shotgun leaning in a corner. Standing in another hallway, a .30-caliber rifle. In another corner was a .22-caliber hunting rifle.
In all, police found nine guns strewed about the empty Centreville home, unlocked, along with boxes and satchels of ammunition, six pellet guns, several hunting knives and a bayonet on a bedroom nightstand, according to a search warrant unsealed yesterday. Investigators have not traced the ownership of the seven guns Kennedy brought with him to the Sully District police station parking lot, including an AK-47-style assault rifle and a high-powered hunting rifle.
Investigators believe Kennedy fired more than 70 rounds from his two rifles and possibly from one of the five handguns he brought to the police station, which has been closed while officers grieve.”
The HP is not a big lover of guns, and although he can easily qualify with his weapons for work, we don’t keep one in the house (we have other defenses, like sending Lauren out to argue with intruders until they leave in frustration). However, when I read the “missile or rocket” part, I could only think of one thing – fireworks. My brothers were obsessed with fireworks when we were younger. Not the kind that you sit in a stadium and watch, but the kind that you buy at the store. You ignite them and enjoy them, and then take a moment to count your fingers and toes and eyes to make sure you did it correctly. I imagine my brothers were inspired by our older male cousins who used to put on quite an alcohol soaked fireworks display at our annual 4th of July family reunion. The spinners that were supposed to be attached to a stationary object usually ended up spinning and sparking across the yard. Whenever one of the roman candles came up a few fireballs short, one of my cousins would run to go check it before one of the grown-ups, in a passing moment of sobriety, would tell them to leave it alone.
7. continuous attack: a series of things that follow each other quickly and relentlessly, especially if hostile or intimidating
I don’t have much to say about this one, but any of you that have been on the receiving end of one of my husband’s inquiries, I think you will agree that he is familiar with this type of fire. He can launch a series of questions with such rapidity that I rarely have time to complete my answer to one when the next question is coming at me. There are times when I have attempted to end one of these episodes with “That’s it; that’s all I know; I don’t know anything else; we have exhausted my knowledge on this topic.” And still the questions continue.
8. gem's brilliance: the shine and sparkle of a gemstone
9. passion: energy, spirit, or intensity of feeling
I guess these two describe why the boys are attracted to us girls. Lucky for us, a little sparkle can bring out the “energy, spirit, or intensity of feeling” for us. Of course, we need a lot more than sparkle if we want to be noticed when there is a fireplace around. Or a grill. Or a sparkler. Or a candle. Or even a match.
posted by Shannon at 11:24 PM
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