December 7, 2010
A few months later, during the holiday season, Hubby and I hosted a sit down dinner party for a small group of friends. It was one of those beautiful December evenings in Phoenix - just chilly enough to feel Christmasy - and everything was decorated to the hilt. We served Chicken en Papillote, which is a seriously great and impressive dish if you haven't tried it yet. And, of course, we had candles everywhere.
Of course, during the uproar dinner got cold and let me tell you how good food tastes with the smell of burning hair hanging in the air. The Granddaughter is 14 now and she just loves it when I tell this story! She is, in her own sweet way, still setting the world on fire!
So let's go back a generation to when our two daughters were having a sleepover. I think they were in 6th and 8th grade at the time. It was summertime so they had friends over for the night, but we still had to get up early to go to work. They had been pretty loud, it was late and I was getting crabbier by the minute. They were all together in one bedroom and I ripped open the door and told them if they didn't pipe down, everyone was going home. If we heard one more peep out of them, the party was over!
I stomped back to our bedroom and crawled into bed thinking we could finally get some sleep. Pretty soon there was a quiet knock on our bedroom door and our youngest daughter says in this timid voice, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I think our bedroom is on fire."
They had been playing a board game and knocked a lamp over that sparked and caught the bedspread on fire. Hubby leaped out of bed and raced down the hall, grabbed the bedspread and took it out in the yard to lay it out on the grass and stomp on it. While nothing really bad happened, I can guarantee we didn't have any sleepovers for a while after that!