And now, the REST of the story...

Got home late last night, after a really long day.

So much good stuff, (playing hooky from school with my daughter, getting new hair cuts together, taxiing children to various activities, participating in a fabulous Relief Society acitivity, retrieving younger children from a very fun home teacher-turned babysitter)just a long day.  It always feels a little longer when Dub is out of town.  Come to think of it, he was out of town at this exact time last year, when we embarked on our journey that was the famous ice storm.  This time we were hunkering down for a significant snow storm.  (That WAS significant, by the way.)

I wanted to post all about it, pictures included, but the internet was running on molasses again...

When we all tromped into the house, I sent the kids out for a stack of wood to stoke up the wood stove, before going to bed.
I loaded it up, and as I shut the door, sparks started shooting over the top of the woodstove.

They kept hitting my clothes, flying into my hair (my NEW! hair) and then thick, stinky smoke started pouring out.  I got scared.  The stove was going full tilt, and I couldn't figure out why the sparks were flying and the smell was NOT the smell of a wood chip.  Why do I have to be a single mom on nights like this? Was the thought running through my head.  I'm much better at playing support roles when it comes to woodstoves and snowblowers.

I called the fire station.  Not on the 9-1-1 line, because I didn't really see the need to call out the full lights, bells and whistles thing... just wanted someone to help me troubleshoot (but quick!).  As I'm on the phone with the dispatcher, the smoke is getting thicker, and the sparks were still shooting over the stove at regular intervals. As I dodged sparks and hovered near the stove, I started waving my arm around at the kids, who were staring at me, waiting for me to fix this mess and make it all better.  I sent silent messages of "There are firemen coming, people!  Clean up this mess!" through the air with the waving of my hands, and incredibly, THEY GOT IT.  It was as if the chaos of the previous two days magically became visible to their little eyes.  I've never seen four kids move so quickly to CLEAN the house.

Short wrap-up: The dispatcher asked me if the noise she was hearing was our smoke alarms.  I told her no, that it was the blower on the stove, which has a tendency to rattle.  Except as I'm saying it, I realize that Dub fixed the rattle before he left, and come-to-think-of-it, it wasn't the same rattle-y sound.  So I shut the blower off, and fwoomp.  No more sparks.  No more grinding noise.  It did take a while to clear the electrical burn-y smell out of the house, but fireplace was safe.  And I went to bed thinking I needed to have a better pajama selection, so I could feel presentable in the event of an emergency at night.