So I Set Fiiiire, to the Ragggssss!

And now to celebrate my first week back in blacksmithing, I bring you... (because God gave me a nice warm-up, really!) 

Hi everyone!

So, I'm currently sitting on a possible case of tendonitis and would appreciate your prayers. I have a feeling my dancing life is being a little cut-short. Ughness. It's not meant to beeeeeee! Anywhoo, we'll see tomorrow. (: Right now it's just swollen and painful. AHHH PAINNNN!

In lighter news, though! I have a super fun story for you!

So, at church today, we had gotten their for Sunday School. My mom had put a coffee cake into the oven to bake (there's a kitchen in our church... it's a weird set up, but everything's connected), and I had gone home to get a jacket for a girl and change into something nicer myself--I had just arrived from an overnight. After running back to church, I sat down and we got service started. About three-fourths the way through, my mom had smelled something, so I went to go make sure it was done.

Now, here's the thing: Where we hold church is extremely dated. Everything's from the 1980's, so it's all retro and doesn't work right. The oven is no excuse, either. It's infamous for burning things beyond repair, and there's been a few fires before. But, we've gotten pretty good at mastering this oven, so we thought it would be pretty okay. (also: please note the above, how my ankle is NOT doing too hot)

Anyway, I'm moving back towards the kitchen, and I start smelling the cake. It smells kinda like blacksmithing, too, so I run and throw open the oven. The top of the cake is black. I look at it, and then grab two rags closest to me--I wasn't going to check it, that thing had to come out! So, I push my hands into the oven with the rags as mitts.

Only, my thumb touched the metal for longer than a few seconds, so I dropped the rags and jumped back. As I was jumping back, I kept my eyes on the rag and watched as they touched the bottom of the oven. I hadn't noticed that it was electric, so there were huge wires at the bottom to heat the entire oven. My eyes grew wide as I watched the middle of one rag settle on the wire, and reached for it when--

VOOSH! 

The corner caught on fire! I grabbed it, pulling it up and shaking it wildly, trying to keep it down. Service was still being held in the other room, and I didn't want to disturb them. But meanwhile, I was dropping the rag onto the carpet, and watching it blaze.

Here's where I mention something very vital: I don't where shoes, anywhere.

So the rag's on the carpeted floor and the fire's still going and I've got no shoes on. I quickly turn over the corner of the rag, and stomp on it twice, then leave it to get my mom. All of my hard work keeping it quiet was lost when I wildly ran out into the main room, motioning for my mother to come with me. Her eyes got wide and she ran behind me, and when I got back to the kitchen, I was relieved to see that the fire was out. I picked it up, and bluntly told her:

"I have made a mistake!"

She looked at it and then ran to the oven, turning it off and grabbing pot holders from a drawer. (and deep inside I'm like: u srs?! [you serious]) She pulls it out, and puts it on the stove top, surveying the blackness of the coffee cake.

Before I go on, can I just say how important this coffee cake is? For months my mom has been bringing coffee cake every morning because most of our congregation is starving by the time Sunday School is over. We have lunch after main service, but this is vital. Mostly to this one man who attends our church, who looks so forward to muffins or cake. It's kinda funny, actually. Which is why my mom loves bringing something--it makes the congregation happier to have food in their bellies. (our church is a Russian-style church where we all bring food and share it afterwards, every Sunday. It makes church a little less like an obligation and more like a family moment) BUT MY POINT IS THAT THIS CAKE IS IMPORTANT.

And it was completely black.

So, mom and I just stand there, both speechless. She grabs a knife, sliding it into the middle and pulling it out, it coming out clean. She then looks at me, and states: "It ate my cake!"

I was like: "Yup, that horrible monster!"

She then grabbed the rag, examining the hole. She started laughing, and looked at the burnt spot on the carpet. I had a small blister forming on my thumb already and it was pretty painful, but we walked back out to service together, sitting and laughing to ourselves. At the end of service, our pastor smiled and said, "Well, I think I smell something delicious, so let's wrap up!"

My mom: "No."

Me: "I might've just set it on fire..."

The ladies in front of us: "Maybe, huh? ;)"

Aren't you proud of me??? :D

Afterwards, I apologized to our pastor's wife, who owned the rags. I then was asked by one of the guy's at my church if I had burned myself on the oven (and he's a very stoic boy, mind you). I knew him, so I picked up the rag and said: "Nahh..."

He then burst out laughing.

Because, ya know, adrenaline-free Sundays are too mainstream. ;D

Cheers!

Jenn