POOfFF!

Those who know me best know that I'm not always the brightest crayon in the box. Sometimes my brain fails to process the obvious, and the result is often a wonderful memory of an embarrassing happening. Such was the case on Friday evening.

Friday was a wonderful day. The highlight was having Krysten, a dear friend and former mission companion, come and visit me. She was in town to watch her brother's football game. And after an amazing game, Krysten stayed in Provo with me and we were able to enjoy being friends who are at liberty to address each other by first names and not dress in frumpy church clothes whenever we were together. It was fabulous.

Anyway, my apartment in quite cold. It is currently mid-August, today's forecast high is in the 90s. Many consider this to be quite hot and would consider using blankets, jackets and a fireplace as unnecessary, if not downright absurd. Being the Arizona girl that I am, 90 degrees doesn't sound hot, but it isn't my Arizona heat conditioning that is problematic. Because truly, we are perpetually blasted with cold air from the air conditioning upstairs, which we have no control over, and it really is quite cold.

Well, it didn't take too long for Krysten to comment on the cold and request a blanket to wrap up in. I suggested that we on the fire. We have a gas fireplace in our apartment. It is the kind that has realistic-looking, fake logs and a knob for turning on a stream of gas in front of said logs. Well, I've turned on the fire many times and knew that the procedure is as simple as lighting a match, turning on the gas and extending the lit match to the gas, bringing about a "poof!" noise, a small, brief leap of flames, and then a consistently burning fire providing warmth to all within about two feet of the hearth.

Well, things aren't always as easy as they seem, or as they have historically been in the past. This was one of those times. So Krysten and I are in front of the fireplace. I grab the matchbox, open it and procure a match. I strike it. I may have seen a spark of light. I strike it again, nothing but less color on the head of the match. But after a few more attempts I manage to ignite a flame atop my little match. Therefore, I proceed to reach for the knob to turn on the gas. I turn it to the left. I begin to extend my left hand, containing the match, but somehow the match goes out before it reaches the gas. So I go for another match.

Those of you who are familiar with gas fireplaces may have recognized that it was unwise for me to leave the gas running. The longer the gas is on, the most it can spread. Can you see where I'm going with this? Anyway, after many failed attempts at lighting match number two I am forced (okay, I wasn't forced, but rather chose) to discard it and use another match. I tried, unsuccessfully, to light match number three several times before it was suggested that I try maknig my attempt on the other side of the box. Success! So I take my lit match and begin to carry it to the stream of gas.

As I am doing so I am mentally preparing myself, something that I had also done the first time I was about to introduce the lit match to the gaseous matter. I think to myself, "I know that when the flame touches the gas there with be a 'poof!' and a lot of flames. I am going to be tough and not jump like I usually do." So with this mental preparation I take the match all the way, but rather than "poof", it was more like "POOfFF!"

The first thing I see is a big mass of flames, much larger than expected, fill the fireplace and jump out, seeming to cover my head. The first thing I hear is "POOfFF!" followed immediately by a sizzling noise near my ears. The first thing I feel is an increase of heat as the flames jump out at me and a tingling sensation on my face. And the first thing I smell, besides gas, is the smell of burning hair.

I'm proud that my mental preparation was sufficient that I did not jump, did not yell, did not retreat or retract my arm or face from where it was positioned. I'm not so pleased that as I result of such self-control that about half of my right eyebrow, the tips of my right eyelashes, and a good little chunk of hair on both the right and left sides of my face ended up singed or burned.

I just sat there after the little eruption thinking, "That was bigger than expected...huh." And Krysten and Valerie were the ones to notice that there were certain places in which my hair resembled...well, the pieces we broke and brushed off with the slightest touch kind of reminded me of the pieces of Flotsam & Jetsam from Little Mermaid after Ursula had accidentally nuked them ("[her] poor little poopsies"). It was small, curled, discolored, lifeless, brittle and pretty much very unfortunate and unattractive looking.

Anyway, we cleaned up as best we could and were all grateful that it didn't cause any real damage. I doubt that anyone who wasn't looking for evidences of such an occurrence would notice it. So it was mostly just a nice little adventure and memory. Yay for memories. It's a good life.