So, uh, hi. How’s things? Good? Good.
I mean, obviously not as good as it would’ve been had I been here, because I’m totally your favorite (right? RIGHT?) but you know, I’m sure Francesca and Twistie kept you entertained, again, not as entertaining as I would’ve kept you had I not been sitting in a room coughing and shaking and hitting up friends for restorative cocktails for a week, but you know, entertained ENOUGH.
So I guess you’ll want the dish on the fire.
Well, there’s no easy way to say this so here goes:
I might have, TOTALLY ACCIDENTALLY AND WITHOUT MALICE OF FORETHOUGHT, accidentally set my church on fire.
Yeah.
See, among the many fine chapeaux I wear in my daily life is that of church thurifer. A thurifer is the person who swings a big smoking censer full of coal and incense during church services when we like to pretend we’re Catholic but without having to give up our club membership or go back in the closet.
Basically it’s like being a majorette for the Lord, except you don’t get to wear little white cowboy boots with fringe and there aren’t any special underpants –which is lame, but there you have it.
Anyhoodle, I do that pretty much every Sunday for the last service of the night and it’s big fun because who doesn’t love a majorette? Well, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE, I hit the thurible –that’s the thingum that holds the incense and the coals– on the ground.
No big deal right?
I stomped out –in a totally holy and Not At All Freaked Out way– the few embers that had gotten loose and were extinguishing themselves on the carpet no one really likes anyway and go back to my business.
I go back to check to make sure everything was out (it was in the dark, so glowing embers are theoretically easier to see) it was and an hour and a half later as my bestie and I were getting ready to lock up the church and hit the divey gay bar, in accordance with the scriptures when the little “so sorry to interrupt” alarm casually mentioned I’d most likely set the church on fire.
Because I had.
Now, to be fair it wasn’t a BIG fire, total damage was about 10″ square. In fact I put out the flames myself (do you know how to use a fire extinguisher? Remember PASS: Pull the pin. Aim the nozzle. Squeeze the lever. Sweep from side to side.) but the burning coal fell THROUGH the floor.
That’s when the lovely, lovely firemen came in.
Including –you’re going to die over this– Firefighter Wiseman.
Honestly firemen don’t set my heart aflutter the way they do some folks. I can’t help it. Every time I see one of those pictures with some musclebound guy all covered in sweat and soot I think “Oh my God he would RUIN my white upholstery!” and there’s just no recovering from that.
BUT I’m setting aside my personal preferences and am giving it up to the wonderful, heroic, and probably good-looking (although to be honest I was so freaked out about POSSIBLY BURNING DOWN MY CHURCH to pay attention) firefighters of Austin Fire Station #1 Company.
I love you all. Thanks for not using the hose.
Well, I always think that by the time the firemen are all sweaty and sooty in real life, white upholstery would be, well, sooty if not sweaty itself. So there’s that barrier to hotness relieved.
Comment by Lisa — December 14, 2009 @ 5:10 pm
Oh Plumcake, I am so sorry to hear about your little fire. However, as a thurifer myself (in a previous life) I almost wet my pants laughing (at my desk no less!) at your description of a thurifer. May I please use this (with attribution of course) when I try to describe to others what this is? Best description ever.
Comment by Jane H. — December 14, 2009 @ 5:31 pm
OK, I know I’m kind of missing the critical part of the story, but please tell me there’s no rule AGAINST thurifers wearing white cowboy boots with fringe and/or special underpants if a thurifer so chooses? ‘Cause if there is that removes any motivation I may have to be other than the lapsed Presbyterian I am.
Comment by Friv — December 14, 2009 @ 8:25 pm
Heck of a way to meet guys, if you ask me.
And how come you can’t wear show panties with your thurifer getup?
(Srsly, tho, I’m glad it wasn’t worse.)
Comment by theDiva — December 14, 2009 @ 8:45 pm
oh by all means one COULD wear white be-fringed cowboy boots and special bloomers, but they don’t come as part of the ensemble. I’ve walked down that aisle in everything from rubber zebra print loafers to 5″ hot pink Dolce and Gabbana heels. C’mon Frivs. ONE OF US. ONE OF US.
Comment by Plumcake — December 14, 2009 @ 9:09 pm
There goes your shot at the Archbishop.
Comment by raincoaster — December 14, 2009 @ 9:11 pm
OMG! That’s horrifying. I hope you’re okay.
-Denise
Comment by All Women Stalker — December 14, 2009 @ 9:20 pm
So, who’s going to pay for the floor? It’s an old building and it’s right before Christmas? The Baby Jesus is surely crying. I know I would.
Comment by ruby soho — December 14, 2009 @ 10:56 pm
The damage was extremely minimal, but we are insured out the proverbial wazoo.
Comment by Plumcake — December 15, 2009 @ 12:44 am
I love this! My husband was an altar boy, and tells me that he and his fellow altar boys accidentally burned at least one piece of clothing or furniture about every year.
Comment by boots — December 15, 2009 @ 1:04 am
I once set fire to my employer’s home. It’s surprising how many people, on hearing that, ask “Was it an accident?”
Comment by Margo A — December 15, 2009 @ 3:11 pm
Wow. I’ve wanted to be an episcopalian ever since a term spent in Cambridge introduced me to the “Big Shiny Bible” and the “Big Swingy Incense-things” (being raised methodist, I have no CofE jargon) but I had no idea of the potential danger. I’m so glad you and your church have emerged relatively unscathed!
Comment by mywhimsey — December 15, 2009 @ 7:03 pm
Ritual + Danger = Catholic or Episcopal
Ritual + Danger + Good Music + Never Being Forced to Hold Hands During the Our Father = Episcopal
Comment by class factotum — December 15, 2009 @ 7:07 pm
Plumcake, I love you. Thank you for the firemen pictures. I’m not a fan of the shirtless fire fighter pics, but I love it when they’re in uniform.
Don’t feel bad about setting your church on fire. I almost set my house on fire at my daughter’s birthday party. I had some pizza boxes in the oven on warm so they wouldn’t get cold. (the pizza in the boxes not the boxes themselves.) About 45 minutes later, our oven is smoking and the boxes are on fire. My hubby distinguishes the fire by tossing the boxes in the sink and dousing with water. Now everyone is sitting in the apartment in the middle of a cold Febuary afternoon with all the windows open so they don’t get smoke inhalation. A birthday to remember, indeed. :-)
Comment by BrooklynShoeBabe — December 16, 2009 @ 9:14 pm
Comment by raincoaster — December 17, 2009 @ 10:32 am
I know I’m late in commenting on here, but this story reminded me of my ex-boyfriend – he told me that as an altarboy he almost clocked a bishop with the censer during Mass! And then I cried laughing.
Comment by Becs — December 18, 2009 @ 1:08 am