Dye Pots and Three Firemen

It was a lively week at YOUR DAILY FIBER this past week. I started dyeing the yarns that Ivy had shipped to the store.

Without getting technical (boring), I dye the yarn by heating the yarn to almost boiling in pots in our back room. Simple enough. What becomes hard is remembering to turn off the pots before we go home. In fact, the remembering part is so hard, Ivy trusts no one but herself to turn the pots off.

Years ago, Ivy earned the job of turning off the pots, as she was the only one that actually forgot to turn the pots off. Ivy turned some yarn into charcoal and herself into a worrying nutcase, all in one evening. Ivy (and I) went back to the store at 11:00 PM. It was a good thing we went back.

Tuesday evening, Ivy left the store early, leaving Elaine and I to close the store. About eight hours later, Ivy would realize what a mistake she made.

Fifteen minutes before closing time, I asked Elaine to start preparing for closing the Store. I had mention that I would take out the trash (I always get the non-glamorous and heavy-lifting jobs around YOUR DAILY FIBER) while she closed the books and turned off the lights. (Did you notice, no heavy-lifting?)

Elaine finished her tasks, I finished mine. I drove Elaine home, everything is per usual. Once at home, Elaine and I enjoyed dinner and a night with the twins and Ivy learning which of the kids at high school are smoking weed, vaping, and actually going to class. (We can talk about this stuff some other day, but now I've got to tell this story. Later, Elaine and I went to bed, just like we always do.

I'm guessing I was asleep for about four hours. I don't know how or why, but I woke up jumping out of bed. (OK, I know why, I have a couple guardian angels, but they have told me not to write about them) I started putting on my coat and my frocs (plastic shoes) before I woke Elaine. I asked Elaine, "Did you turn off the dye pots?" Sleepily she said, "Huh, ah, No!" Somehow I already knew the answer.

I flew down the stairs and yelled into the basement. "Ivy, the dye pots are on!!" Ivy came groggily up and said, "You're kidding, right?"

Me: Not kidding, let's go!

Ivy: Oh my God!

Elaine: Let me go, I'm the one that left them on.

Me: Not a good idea.

Elaine has been riding in vehicles that I have been driving for some... well, a lot of years. She has not enjoyed each and everyone of those rides. I was about to embark on a drive that Elaine would not enjoy.

Ivy: What car are we taking?

Me: The truck

Ivy: I think the car would be fast.........

Me: I'm taking the truck.

The first 11-1/2 miles from are house to anywhere are dirt roads. (Yes, that's why are vehicles are always covered in dried mud.) On a normal trip to the store from our house it will take twenty minutes to get to the first paved road. Should I want to give Elaine a little anxiety, it might take seventeen minutes.

I had channeled my angels and got back into high school mode. The first twenty minute leg of the trip to town was made in twelve minutes.

I should explain "high school mode." Before an extra 100,000 residents moved to this area, there were a lot of empty country roads. My friend, Tim and I liked to drive our cars into the foothills, turn off the motor and let the car roll down the hill to town. (Don't try this yourself!) Needless to say, your car will get going pretty fast.

For the most part, Tim and I got pretty good at driving. Except for that one time, on my seventeenth birthday. I didn't have the angels that night. Elaine disagrees. She says I had angels, but the car didn't.

Well, back to my story. I have some good news. Most of the people on the road in the middle of the night are driving within the legal speed limits. I know this because I was passing them.

I should take this time to thank the semi-driver for staying over when he saw me coming. I think while I was going around the semi, was the first time Ivy told me she was going to puke. (She never did.)

Halfway to town Ivy and I started thinking about calling 911. We wondered why someone had not called us, and started thinking maybe the pots had not started on fire, yet. Ivy called 911.

Ivy discussed our situation with the 911 dispatcher. The said they would/could send out the fire department.

When I actually got to town I slowed down, sort of. When I passed the policeman sitting on the side of the road, I was only twenty mile per hour over the legal limit. He just sat there. He didn't come after me. (Angels?) That might have encouraged me a little. I drove faster.

When Ivy and I got to the store, a fire engine was in the parking lot. The firemen (3) had been in the store and shut of the pots. Ivy thanked them, and they left. The pots actually had a couple inches of water in them that had not boiled out. Do you see why I believe in angels? I didn't know they were watching Elaine, also. You learn something everyday!

Ivy said to me, "I'm with three firemen in the middle of the night and I'm dressed like this." (Sweatpants, cowboy boots, pajama top and stocking cap.) As her dad, suddenly I wish I had brought Elaine.

I do not condone exceeding the legal speed limit. However, it makes for good stories.

Our crazy lives!

Monner