Sunday, June 27, 2010
Oh, how I wish I had been a Girl Scout.
I was a Brownie, but, really, Brownies are all about the cookies and the "Flying Up" ceremony.
I flew up and out, long before real skill acquisition kicked in.
I found myself regretting that short-sighted decision last week, as I struggled to build my first fire at 6 am on a dark and bitterly cold winter's morning.
Did I mention that a fire was required to heat the house?
We have perched ourselves in a charming but rustic cottage on the edge of a botanic garden, while our long-awaited renovations are underway.
When I say 'rustic', I mean it.
No television reception.
No internet access.
No moblie coverage.
No drinkable tap water.
No heating without a wood-fire.
And, for the first week, no refrigerator. (The scary part is, we didn't need it. The milk kept in the laundry room never got above 12C.)
We now have a frig, which seems decadent, but could come in handy if things ever get beyond 15C.
More exciting still, I can now light and maintain a robust fire without the aid of the commericial "fire starters" that my husband seems so fond of.
Sorry, honey -that was a cheap shot, but I am cold and cranky. (More than usual, I mean.)
In fairness, it was CB who taught me to build the fire in the first place, which he is very good at, his love of pyrotechnic enablers aside.
Normally, my first stop would have been YouTube for a how-to video (which I how I learned to tie my son's school uniform tie) but that was out of the question. See above.
Could someone please alert Mrs. Constable, my troop leader from 1978:
I've finally earned a badge.
Now, if I only had a carton of Thin Mints....