Since I'm getting ready to head to a magical place called Lubbock, and I have been informed that this magical land is currently devoid of wireless internet access, I thought we'd have a little storytime where the wild and precious things are while I am gone.
I will continue the September Stories series, since it's December, and I'll also let you in on why so much real time passed between the last installment and now.
But first, the story that has haunted me these nine years. I'm typing this early, and have yet to find the picture to go with it, but I promise you, there's a picture somewhere.
The Great Christmas Eve Fire of 2001
Once upon a time, a girl travelled long distances for Christmas with the family. She moved all the way from sunny Florida, where sweaters were nonexistant, to chilly-in-December Texas. Since she didn't even own a sweater, she had to borrow one from her beloved aunt when the temperatures dropped.
When moving from Florida, she made several life changes, one of which was a sassy new short haircut that required a bit of maintenance to behave. This girl had limited experience with short hair, and even limiteder (is too a word) experience with hair products in general. So, when it came time to produce the big hair that was befitting of a Texas Christmas, she laid it on thick. She got that pouf going strong. It was a proud moment both for her and her aunt.
After the requisite Christmas Eve dinner and family arguing session that followed every holiday gathering, pictures were taken and the family headed off to the First Baptist Christmas Eve service, also a tradition. The girls were dressed in their lovliest of velvet-ish dresses, and we were all coiffed to perfection.
At this point, she'd only been a member for three-ish months, and so she didn't know the gazillion people she knows now, which was just a blessing in and of itself. Her parents are notoriously LATE for every single thing they attend, and so everyone was nestled snugly in the back of the church, on one of the last pews. Again, a blessing in and of itself.
The service was beautiful. She was sitting in between her girls, who were 3 and 5 at the time. Back then, they liked sitting by her and fought to be near her. During the songs, she would hoist Katybug up on the pew next to her, and they would sing together and share a hymnal.
The pastor and his family sang their traditional song. Back then, they were a mere family of seven, not the 15.5 they are now (including the two dogs, who are sensitive to being left out of the count). The girl and her family sang carols and celebrated the Christ child, and then, it was time for her favorite moment of Christmas.
Silent Night. With candles.
They got their candles and sang their song, and she hoisted Katybug up on the seat next to her to raise their candles up high for the last verse.
Now, did you know that a kindergartener's "up high" is the same height as a cousin's elbow?
Did you know that alcohol is extremely flammable?
Did you know that hair spray has a high alcohol content, especially AquaNet (what every southern woman uses)?
I'm sure by now you're connecting the dots as to what happened next. It turns out, I'd used a smidge too much hairspray and gotten a smidge too close to the kindergartener with a candle. The consequence: my left arm went up in flames.
Surprisingly, when you find yourself lit on fire, you don't necessarily panic, or at least I didn't. I merely turned my head toward the flames and blew a few short breaths to try to put it out. The Aunt next to me was the one who went into full panic mode, seeing that her daughter was very close to a fire and that said fire was coming from her niece.
Luckily the man behind me was a quick-thinker. He put me out with a hymnal, good for singing Amazing Grace and for putting out idiots that accidentally themselves on fire.
We laughed hysterically, especially when we walked out into the atrium, saw each other face-to-face, and fell onto the floor in fits of laughter.
I'll leave you with the same thing my uncle said to me as we were leaving.
"It wouldn't have been so funny if you'd a had to take that sweater off."
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