I have to say I’m really enjoying having a fireplace now where all I have to do is turn a knob and flames appear. It’s the craziest thing
I put this as my Facebook status a couple of weeks ago. This is the first time in my life where I’ve lived in a house with a gas fireplace and every time I go to turn it on I kind of feel like I’m some sort of cave man woman who’s journeyed through a time warp. Look! Look! Fire!
When I was a little girl living in Arizona we had fireplaces and wood burning stoves to heat the houses I lived in with my family. They were a lot of work, but my dad seemed to be an expert at keeping the fire going. I still have the rather bizarre (I might need therapy one day) mental picture of my dad squatting down in front of our wood burning stove in the early morning hours before the sun rose throwing another log on the hot coals. What makes this scene odd is the fact my dad is wearing nothing but his Fruit of the Loom tighty whities. Yes, this is the vivid forever tattooed on my brain childhood memory of fireplaces and wood burning stoves: My dad tending to the fire in nothing but his underwear.
Anyways, enough of that.
Fire that appears with just the turn of a knob delights me! What an amazing convenience we easily take for granted. When my husband and I lived in North Carolina we had a fireplace but we rarely used it. In the 12 years that we lived there, I’m guessing we only used it a half dozen times. It was a challenge to keep it burning and our vaulted living room ceilings made it difficult to actually heat the house. The fireplace wasn’t worth the time, effort or mess. It was much more convenient to just turn the thermostat knob on our furnace.
It’s weird how a part of me still feels “undeserving” of knob turning fireplaces. In a way, it feels like I’m cheating. It’s too easy. It’s the same feeling I had when I moved to North Carolina and started mowing grass for the first time. In all the years I lived in Arizona, we didn’t have grass to mow. We had rock, dirt, and cactus yards. It wasn’t until I was 30 years old that I actually mowed grass for the first time. My husband had to “teach”me how to use the push mower.
I remember thinking back then that I hadn’t yet earned the right to have a riding lawn mower. I had to work for that luxury. I had to put in the time and the sweat of push mowing my yard before I could even think of a riding mower. After about 5 years of push mowing the yard, some friends of ours offered to sell us their used riding lawn mower. We took them up on their offer. And similar to the knob turning fire, I kind of felt like a time-warped cave woman then too. Every time I sat down on the cushy seat and road effortlessly around the yard, it was delightful!
As I sit here typing this post this morning and looking at my instant fire, I feel so blessed. I want to remember this moment. The sound of the flames. The sound of my dog snoring on the floor next to me. I want to remember this. And the plus to this mental picture? No tighty whities! 😉