Mel vs. The Coleman Stove

In the world of OCD, irrational fears are our business. I have fears about bugs, needles, the State of Arizona, and in our house we do not have service with the gas company because I have an irrational fear of exploding. In preparing for our camping trip, it was only natural that this fear of the big kaboom translate itself to a, let's call it, "heightened awareness" of how easy it would be to blow up our campsite while using the Coleman stove.

I was completely resistant to using it. I didn't know, exactly, how cooking would work, which translated to a secondary fear that I would somehow starve Short Person, but I would find a way! I had visions of cooking things over a campfire, rationalizing that since the Indians, cowboys, and twelve-year old boys participating in Boy Scout activities had done it, well... how hard could it be, right?

I poured over recipes and websites all specializing in recipes for foil cooking and cast iron, but realized that the food you could cook this way not only took a long time, but took an innate talent for cooking. I have no talent. So, I cruised the stores looking for some magical ways to cook. Until finally, I thought I had a solution to the problem. I was going to buy this candle waxy looking thing in a can called Sterno. It looked easy! You light it, stick it under a grate thing, put a pan on top of the grate... and Walla! Hot food.

I rushed home to tell LJS about this splendid find, excited because I wasn't going to have to approach the propane canister one single time.

"You're going to learn to use the stove, Honey. It's easy." He responded, setting off my inner alarm bells. HIS mind was set, which usually meant there was no stopping him. No turning back! Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!

"Okay, but not today."

I managed to put him off a full week, but the weekend before we were set to go camping, he announced that it was "the time" to learn.

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I forget what Short Person and I did that day. I only remember that when I got home, I was exhausted and hot. The temperatures were steadily climbing and it had been nearly ninety degrees for far too long a stretch. I remember too that LJS was in "a mood". Nothing good comes from LJS being in "a mood" when trying to do something.

I have only to look at our first day in our new house, preparing to paint and finding that the previous owners had used a huge nail to hang something up. LJS got mad, got the hammer, and pulled and pulled and pulled to get it out-- not realizing that as he was doing that, the blunt end was knocking an even larger hole into the wall. Until finally, the nail was out and there was a newly established crater the size of a tennis ball below it.

I have only to look at the day LJS wanted cable in the garage. He split the cord, he hooked it up, it still did not work. He attempted to get it done for hours, until finally, he headed up to the attic. Angry, he managed to do a little too much stomping on the rafters and fell straight through the ceiling, dropping nicely into the living room right in front of his recliner. A message, I think, to sit his butt down and chill. Although, I didn't say that. I was too busy laughing.

But, I digress. The point is that nothing good comes from LJS being in "a mood" when attempting to do ANYTHING. As you can guess, when it comes to teaching me how to cook with GAS and a MATCH, I was a bit more reluctant than usual.

I got home, put things down, and was immediately greeted with, "Okay, Woman, get out here. I'm going to teach you how to use this."

I looked at him. "Honey, I'm really tired... and you're in a mood. I just don't want to do it now."

Immediately, he is exasperated. "You're not going to blow yourself up. Now get out here."

I stepped timidly onto the step just outside the garage door, not willing to get any closer to the stove than I had too.

"Get over here. Nothing is going to happen. But, you do have to watch and see how it's going to work."

I took one, then two little steps closer, now only a foot or two away from the washer, where the stove sat innocently enough on top. I watched as LJS showed me how to hook up the propane to the arm, hook the arm to the stove, and then open the canister. Immediately, I took a step backward, which incurred the wrath of rolling eyes and a sigh. But, I stood my ground.

I watched as he fiddled with the knobs. First, on the stove, then on the propane tank. Then, he clicked the lighter and put it gently against the burner. Nothing. Again, he fiddled with he knob on the stove, the knob on the tank, and again clicked the lighter. Still nothing.

Inside, I'm doing the happy dance. Maybe, it was broken. I wouldn't be able to take it, after all. I'd even have an excuse other than my completely insane fear. I was all but calculating how much Sterno I'd need.

LJS started fiddling with the arm, adjusting how the tank sat, then again fiddled with the knobs. I could smell the gas, but for some reason he couldn't light the burner. Things were going my way!

But then, he said he thought he got it figured out. "Woman, get over here. You need to see how this works. You're not going to blow up." He looked at me hard and I took a step forward. He clicked the lighter, put it against the burner, and...

KABOOM-WHOOSH!!

Flames from the stove shot three feet in the air, burning angry. Too stunned to do more initially than just watch, we looked at each other in amazement, then back at the stove, then at the chemicals and rags on the shelf behind the washer and dryer.

LJS chuckled. "Oops." I watched him fiddle with the knobs and finally extinguish the impressive flame.

"I thought you said it wasn't going to explode! Forget this! I'm not taking it! No way!"

"No, no. It's all good now. I've got it figured out."

I laughed. Was he kidding?! "I am not using that thing."

"Come here. It's fine. See?" He turned the knobs, and clicked the lighter, and I walked backward until my butt crashed into the door. But this time, nothing happened. A blue flame ringed around the burner, dancing prettily.

I walked forward to look, somewhat mesmerized.

When I was pregnant with Short Person, I got mesmerized by another light. It was a light fixture with a globe on top that danced in pretty colors. I thought it would be perfect for the baby's room and picked it up-- not realizing that the globe was glass, weighed a ton, and was not affixed to the base. I picked it up, it rolled off, and at seven months pregnant, I broke my big toe. The pain was so intense, it was all I could do not to toss my cookies in the middle of Fred Meyer.

So, although pretty, I'd learned my lesson about shiny, beautiful lights. That blue flame might have been magical, but it wasn't for me.

LJS turned off the stove, handed the lighter to me, and then insisted that I try. Over and over and over.

In then end, I took it camping with me. I didn't want too, but wanted to pretend like I'd use it. My bravado lasted right up to breakfast the next morning, when I tried to make pancakes in a cast-iron skillet, over an open flame.

Three of them wound up in the fire before I finally caved. The Coleman stove worked splendidly the rest of the weekend, and if you are reading this, you know that I neither blew myself nor the campsite up.