Disasters

This past week in the Poole Household has been an interesting one. We have had a couple disasters take place, starting last Tuesday night. Tim went to play volleyball with the church, and came home with a twisted ankle. At first, when I heard the news through our youngest daughter, who got a hold of Daddy's cell phone and in hushed tones revealed that her Daddy had once again hurt himself playing church sports, I thought nothing of it. When Tim finally hobbled in the door with an ankle swelled up to the size of a large grapefruit, we knew we should take him in. After being in the ER until midnight, we arrived home with a splint, medication, and a "go see your foot Dr.". We are very fortunate to have a family friend who is a foot doctor. He told Tim its just a good sprain, with torn ligaments. Time will be the healer. So a week later, we are still waiting for time to be the healer, as he can hardly walk without crutches. Disaster number #1.
Disaster number #2.
Sunday we had a wonderful Christmas Open House. The day before I was finishing up last minute baking. I turned the oven on early Saturday morning, anticipating finishing up the last couple cakes. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the sheets of Divinity I had left in the oven the night before, to dry. I am in the office and start to smell something burning, and immediately remember the Divinity. Smoke is covering the bottom floor of our house, as I scream for help. No one comes. I open the oven to be greeted with a massive burst of black smoke and flames. I shut the oven off and scream for help, as I run to open the door for air. Opening the door sets off the burglar alarm, and now everyone is up and screaming fire as the smoke rushes to the second floor. I hear thumping and crashing as my invalid husband tries to hop on one foot to the kitchen. In his quick thinking, he grabs the sink nozzle and sprays out the fire. He is overcome by smoke, and is laying on the floor (where there is a little breathable air left) and is trying to scoot himself to the deck to breathe. I grab his arm and slide him across the floor and out the door. During all of this, our middle daughter has to use the bathroom-but can't go in our house, so she runs down the street to friends asking if she can go to the bathroom, because her house is on fire. 12 hours later, we have a working oven, the party went off beautifully, and we can now look back and laugh. This is definitely a Christmas memory, we will always remember. I am no longer allowed to make Divinity.