Burn, Baby, Burn!

I have super hero powers.

Yes, yes, I do.

I discovered them the other day and I am so excited. I was going to go put on my spandex and tights but somehow the look was not what I thought it would be. In my mind, it is Lara Croft. In reality, it is Miss Piggy....without the wicked sense of humor. I cannot wait to start the new big loser diet with Dual Mom. 

Back to my superhero powers. It has been cold enough here in Temecula, California to use my fireplace. My little bitty fireplace. I bought some way expensive firewood and a little box of firestarter. If you think I'm going to chop some kindling, you are crazy. I would be fingerless or toeless within a few chops. My hand eye coordination sucks. Big time. 

I have tried golfing a few times and hitting a little white ball with a club was torture. (I always thought it was so appropriate that Tiger Woods had the name Woods, you know, like the clubs. I guess he needs a new name now. Tiger Oops, maybe.) I swing the club and miss the ball entirely or I hit the ground and cause nerve tingling pain into my wrist and elbows or just clip the top of the damn ball and watch it dribble about 20 feet. We have a family reunion every year that is centered around golf. I will only play if they let me play Lucy and Ethel golf. 



I lit the fire starter, put a couple of logs on...and nothing. Now, I have a pile of paper to be shredded that if I stacked it all up would probably be 12 feet high. No problem. Instead of shredding it, I will burn it. Just to get the fire started you know. I fold up a bunch of sheets, stick in the fire, and whoa, big flames and the wood looks like it is burning. Walk back to the couch. Oops. Wood went out. More paper. More burning. Walk away. Fire goes out. I'm making log briquettes. It is looking a nice charcoal black color. 


How is it that paper and wood can be set on fire and then go out? Over and over. I went through quite a few folders of paper when finally the wood started. I only had to sit right in front of it feeding the fire because of its voracious appetite. It got so hot I almost melted my stretch pants. But as soon as I stand up and walk away, the fire goes out.


I tell you, it was like magic. 


I am thinking red tights with some flames on my leotard and pointy Madonna like cones with more flames. Maybe a cool mask. I can even dye my hair bright red. Shoot. I might look like the Flash. 





I am taking suggestions for my superhero name. Somehow "The Great Fire Putter-Outer" just sounds lame.