Yes, I use my blog to keep track of things I need once a year. Laugh if you like, but nobody wants me not remembering how to light my pilot light in the fall. (Really. You don’t want that.)
I started this post some time ago, and it was about finding a Christmas tree, but I ran out of interest funny brain choose your excuse. I’ll just leave that part in.
So yesterday we completed the annual adventure of acquiring a Christmas tree. I’m sure when I say “adventure” you’re thinking “oh, trek up to the mountains, stomp through snowy fields, pick out the right tree while sipping cocoa, sounds lovely…”
Unh uh. We drive a mile or so, and we do it with the windows down. But this family–man, me and the kid can make an adventure out of anything. You oughtta see us hang curtains.
The family tradition, dating back years, is to find the closest lot and look at every single tree while we argue about branch-shape and ceiling-height and cash-flow. Usually the closest option is a family venture set up in a vacant lot, and we like that. I do make an effort to support small business. Not to mention they usually have cute dogs or cute sons to help me distract the kid from the $80 trees until I can find a smaller one that I can convincingly portray as “adorable.” (Or “pathetic” and “just needing some love.” Don’t judge me.)
This year, though, the lot by the Sew & Vac remained empty. As did the out-of-business used-car lot where we found our magnificent tree last year. The Boys Chorus was selling trees in the parking lot of the nearest mall, I remembered from the news. So we went there, with an extra prayer for navigating a mall parking lot two weeks before Christmas.
We didn’t find the Boys Chorus. Apparently it is a law of nature that one must not drive past a Christmas tree lot–it will vanish into the Bermuda Triangle and you will never find another. Or so my 12yo worked to convince me.
Far be it from me to tempt fate. We bought our tree from Home Depot this year. Next year I will find a family-owned lot.
For the record–the new Christmas tree base:
The base will hold up to a seven foot tree. Four and a half inch ring, so get branch-stumps cut off. No hole needed in the tree. For pete’s sake put the base on before standing the tree up, what the hell were you thinking? Family lots are much more interested in helping two small but determined women get what they need. Base adds three and a half inches of height to the tree. The ceiling is seven feet at the most. Put it in the damned corner blocking the front door. You won’t be able to get to the door once the furniture is moved anyway, and having the big chair behind you at your desk will drive you mad.
Tie the effing thing to ALL FOUR CORNERS OF THE CAR. Again, what the hell were you thinking?
On the subject of wintery things, the pilot light: the “notch” is at the top and invisible. Turn “pilot” to the top of the dial and then you can turn it on. Turning it to where any intelligent human being would have put the “on” mark will get you nowhere.
Oh, hey–if you’ve never lit a pilot light, here’s how.
If at all possible, GET SOMEONE TO SHOW YOU. Please. You don’t want to muck about with this. It’s completely possible to be a strong independent woman who doesn’t know how to light a pilot light YET. Get someone to help. Even if it has to be a man who will try to pat you on the head. Just bite him when he tries.
But in absolute desperation, look at it and figure out FOR CERTAIN what you need to do and then do it. Like a recipe–you need to read it through and make sure you have what you need before you start.
Get a lighting implement. I love my candle-lighter.
Get where you can see. You’re probably going to land there anyway, so do it now with a pillow under your ass if you like.
If at any point you think you’ve screwed up, stop. Let any gas you’ve released dissipate (until you don’t smell it), and then try again. Bad things happen when people are not respectful of the boom-ability. You are smarter than that.
Find where the actual pilot light flame goes. This can be hard. Look for a small black dial labeled “On” “Pilot” “Off” and try to follow the pipe from there. It’s probably as big as your pinky, and has a hole about the size of a plastic coffee stirrer/straw in it where the gas comes out.
Now look at the dial. Look for a notch or mark that tells you where the “on” position is. Like on a medicine bottle where you line up the two arrows. Hint: if it was properly turned off, the notch should be lined up with “off” on the dial. There is no guarantee this was done properly, so don’t count on it.
If you simply cannot find it: push the dial down. Hear hissing? It’s in the pilot position. Only goes down a little, and no hissing? Line “pilot” up with what you think is the notch and try again. You should be able to feel it go down, and you should hear the gas.
Holding the dial down, light the pilot light. Continue holding for several seconds after you light it. If you can’t light it, you might have the wrong spot. Can’t find it? Let up on the dial, turn it to off, and look for the right spot while you wait for the gas to dissipate.
Let the pilot light burn at least thirty seconds, then turn the dial to “on.”
Congratulations. You just lit your furnace/hot water heater/sauna.
KD, I love you. ^___^
^__^ *is loved, yay!*