I was the successful bidder on a Creme Brulee jar candle on Saturday. Yesterday, while making omelettes for the children, I lit the candle and put it next to me on the bar counter, safe from the pup, the children . . .
I was humming and cooking when I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to the left to discover that I WAS ON FIRE! Flames were shooting out of my left pajama arm and back. I slapped at them with my right hand. They must have just erupted because my pajamas were a little yellow afterwards but unburned. I smelled a little like burnt wood the rest of the day.
I asked Don if my hair had been on fire. I wasn't sure if it was just my pajamas or me, too. He said he hadn't seen it and didn't know. When the children wandered back into the house from the backyard, I told them my story.
"How'd you put the flames out, Mama," one of the boys asked.
I paused for a minute. I had to really think. How HAD I put the flames out? I knew it was an instinctive action. I hadn't reached for a dishtowel or anything else. It must have been my bare hand. I was a little reluctant to tell the boys.
"Mom?" he repeated.
"I think I used my hand, honey," I mumbled.
"Hand? You used your hand? You could have burned yourself, Mama. That's dangerous."
That's me! Mrs. Danger - livin' on the edge! Caught on fire by my Creme Brulee candle. Yee-haw!
Fasten your seatbelts, folks. Mom's an adventurer. Maybe today I'll play with a flashlight!
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