Firetrucks and Football: Use Your Words

Today’s post is a monthly writing challenge. If you’re new here, this is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once. All of the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the recipient will take them. Until now.

At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them.
I'm using: firetruck ~ ice ~ rug ~ light ~ microwave
They were submitted by Rena of Wandering Web Designer.
                         
Growing up, my boys loved when we were out driving around and saw a train or a firetruck. Must be a boy thing. Never thrilled me, but then I remember from my own childhood the time we had one of those trucks pull up to our house. This was the second time we'd been hit by lightening. I don't remember the first time.

A have great pictures of the boys, at different fairs in town, sitting in the truck with huge smiles on their faces. And if the firemen turned on the lights and sirens? Those kids were thrilled. 

I learned, the hard way, that it's a little different when they come to your house. When the boys were little, I had been doing my laundry one day and went into the laundry room to see smoke. The washer had finished running and there were no visible flames, but there was smoke. I called and within minutes could hear the sirens.

In walked two firemen in full firefighting regalia. I'm not really sure why, I had been pretty clear about the situation over the phone, but in they walked in gigantic yellow inflated looking pants and coats, clear face masks and giant hats, big boots that made clomping noises when they walked and each carrying an axe.

Holy hell, I think I'd rather have my house burn down than ever hear my boys scream like that again. Freddie or Jason would have been less traumatizing. Freddie AND Jason would have been less traumatizing.

After (way too joyfully, if you ask me) taking their hatchets to my washing machine, they got it taken apart (I'm willing to bet that repair men have a less harmful way to accomplish this). No fire, chances are it was just the motor. And out they went.

The second time we called them (years later, btw) was an ice cold day. 

Now, as an aside, let me tell you that I grew up following professional sports. I'm a Bostonian so that means the Red Sox, the Patriots, the Celtics and the Bruins. College sports wasn't a big thing, except while I was in college, of course.

Anyway, a freezing cold day, college football was on TV and I was going to throw dinner on the grill. When I went out to the deck I knew immediately that something was wrong. The propane canister was hissing, clearly the seal had broken and the gas was leaking out. Not good. We didn't know what to do about it so we tried to find a phone number for the local police, no answer, and local fire station, no phone number available. We hated to call 911 just to find out what to do, but had no choice. They would not release this sensitive information, so a few minutes later we heard those sirens.

Children safely ensconced in my bedroom with the TV on, the firemen came out to the deck, unhooked the propane, stuck a rug in the middle of the yard and placed the tank on it. Apparently the plan was to just let the tank empty into the air. It wasn't until that time that I realized that they were very . . . shall we say . . . not happy with us. They wouldn't come inside, but like little kids at a candy shop they stood with their noses pressed against the glass of our slider trying to watch the local college team play football on our TV.

I blame them, just for the record. If they had been willing to tell us to unhook the propane and stick it in the middle of the yard ourselves, they could have stayed at the station watching the game in comfort.

Tank empty the men headed back to their truck. But on the way out I swear I heard one of the firemen muttering under his breath "next time use the damn microwave".

Jeez buddy, it's just college ball. Lighten up, have a cookie.

Strawberry Cheesecake Cookies

Here are links to all the other Use Your Words posts:

Wandering Web Designer 
Spatulas on Parade
The Bergham Chronicles  
On the Border
Bookworm in the Kitchen
Part-time Working Hockey Mom 
Climaxed 

Strawberry Cheesecake Cookies

                                               ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients (makes about 4 dz):

1 stick butter, room temperature
1/2 stick margarine, room temperature 
4 oz cream cheese, room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 eggs, room temperature
1 tsp strawberry extract
2 1/4 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
10 Strawberry Cheesecake flavored Fudge Stripe Cookies, crushed
1/3 cup freeze dried strawberries, chopped

NOTE: If you cannot find the Strawberry Cheesecake flavored cookies, you can skip the cookies and add another 1/4 cup of flour and another 1/3 cup freeze dried strawberries to the recipe

Directions:
*Cream the butter, margarine, cream cheese, sugar and brown sugar until smooth. Beat in the eggs and strawberry extract.
*Slowly at first, beat in the flour, baking soda and salt. Mix in the crushed cookies and freeze dried strawberries.
*Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least an hour.
*Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cover baking sheets with parchment paper.
*Roll the dough into about 1 inch balls (works best if you use wet hands), and place on cookie sheets.
*Bake for 9 to 11 minutes or until the edges start to brown.