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I just wanted a s'moreAll I wanted was a perfectly toasted marshmallow, nestled between two graham crackers and accompanied by a slab of chocolate. It was a simple urge to fulfill, one would think. The recent fall weather had me hankering for a good, old fashioned bonfire. The kind where you roast hot dogs on sharpened sticks, and swap stories with your friends, and most importantly, finish it off with a toasted marshmallow s'more. Now, I'd been pricing patio-sized fire bowls all summer long, waiting for the sale I knew would happen at the end of the season. (Blame it on Grandma, but I have a tough time paying the original retail price for anything.) Finally, a patio furniture closeout at the local store had a fire bowl within my target price range. My patience once again was rewarded. I'm not handy in any sense of the word, however. Really, putting together furniture usually includes Band-Aids and calls to my father for advice. Somehow I always seem to have extra pieces that get taped to the back of the piece until I figure out their true use. However, this fire bowl went together just as sweetly as you please. No Band-Aids and no extra screws. And, it looks just like the picture on the box. I could almost smell the wood smoke. The next step was to have friends and neighbors over on a cool night and break in the new patio addition. I gathered up all the supplies I thought I'd need. Marshmallows, check. Chocolate, check. Graham crackers, double check. Firewood, matches, newspaper, check. The first sign that Fate wasn't smiling on me was the weather report--rain, with high chance for thunderstorms, hail and potential snow. Okay, so I had to postpone the debut of the fire bowl. And in the process most of my friends bailed on me. Nothing was going to sway me from S'More Fest 2008, though. As long as one friend hung in there on my quest for the perfect start to fall, I was in business. If only she knew how to start a fire. This whole master party plan hinged on my ability to learn this skill that had escaped my early education. Yeah, that's right people, fire starting was the domain of my father and older brother. Anytime there was a bonfire at our house, it was Dad and James who risked their eyebrows and handled the pyrotechnics. At the time I didn't mind, but now I realize that maybe I should have paid more attention. But, how hard can it be to start a fire? Really, if some ditzy blonde girl can do it on a reality television show with two sticks and some flint, surely I can figure this out in my backyard with matches and pre-cut firewood. One would assume, anyway. It turns out, I wouldn't make it on reality TV. On the night of S'more Fest 2008, nothing I tried made those logs burn. I had newspaper and dried leaves, and matches galore. But, just as soon as I thought I had a good flame going, it would die and leave just scorched logs in the bowl. I was quickly running out of newspaper, matches and patience. But, the goal was to have a toasted marshmallow, one way or another. And, by this time, I was cold, frustrated and just stubborn enough that I wasn't going to let those logs get the best of me. No sir. And, with the last hunk of newspaper, and the last match, I started one more flame. And quickly attempted to toast a marshmallow. It was a pitiful s'more. Half the marshmallow was black, the other half raw. The chocolate didn't melt, and the graham cracker crumbled before I bit into it. But it was a s'more by golly. Hello Fall. In the end, the evening wasn't a total loss. My friend and I adjourned to the living room and we ended up microwaving the rest of the marshmallows in the comfy warmth of the house, with the television and the dog. As for that fire bowl? Well, maybe it'll make a good planter for next year's petunias. Jennifer M. Latzke can be reached by phone at 620-227-1807, or by e-mail at jlatzke@hpj.com. 11/3/08 Date: 10/28/08 Advertisement
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