I have a confession to make.
I am a terrible fire builder. It is one of those endearing stories from Amy and my early dating history. I tried and tried to build the fire. I went though every piece of newspaper, toilet paper, paper towel... the phone book! When I started to look longingly toward the furniture, Amy asked if I would not mind letting her have a try.
"Why not!" I exclaimed. "This wood is just too wet to burn."
Amy took the fire poker. Studied the mess of smoke I had created in the fireplace of the "Andy Williams" room at this great B&B in Aspen. Took a deep breath and gently moved one piece a little to the left and blew twice on the fire.
Poof! The indulgent fire sprung to life as if whipped by its lifelong eunuch guard.
She shamed me then, and 17 years later, she is still a much better fire builder than I am.
"Why not!" I exclaimed. "This wood is just too wet to burn."
Amy took the fire poker. Studied the mess of smoke I had created in the fireplace of the "Andy Williams" room at this great B&B in Aspen. Took a deep breath and gently moved one piece a little to the left and blew twice on the fire.
Poof! The indulgent fire sprung to life as if whipped by its lifelong eunuch guard.
She shamed me then, and 17 years later, she is still a much better fire builder than I am.
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