Beech Tree News Network

Most of the time, I seem to have my nose to the grindstone.  I have notes and lists and lists of lists of things I need to get and stuff I need to do.  But every now and then, I’m surprised by a play day.  These particular days are seldom days I plan.  If I plan a play day, it somehow turns into work or stress or unrealized expectation.  True play days come out of left field.  Last weekend, I had such a day.
    Natalie left that morning to find a quiet place to do homework for a class.  It was raining, so Sabria and I spent a couple of hours watching a Disney movie.  When the rain stopped we went outside and filled a large tub with water and suds—Sabria is a big fan of suds.  We washed bottles together as she sang, “Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream.”  Garey announced that he would be making banana ice cream that afternoon, and he had invited our friends, Caleb and Jessica over.
    Sabria decided that she and I needed to play “rabbit and frog.”  It is a play scenario she came up with herself.  It goes like this: First, she gets on the tricycle and pedals down the pretend road—our sidewalk—while I (the rabbit) stand in the middle of the road and hop up and down.  As she nears me, she yells,   “Beep!  Beep!,” to which I pretend to be alarmed and scurry quickly out of the way.  Next, I have to ride the tricycle—and let me tell you, it takes some doing—while she is a frog in the middle of the road.  We did this until my calves started to cramp from pedaling with my knees up to my chin.
    Natalie returned home, and Sabria’s attention was turned from me, so I decided to get on YouTube and view a few of those videos where people cut bottles in half using string, nail polish remover, fire and a bucket of water. (I know, if you play with fire…but they’re so entertaining, and I wanted to try something different with my bottles.)  I looked at several, taking note of the methods that seemed to work the fastest—I’m a big fan of fast.
    I took some bottles out onto the front porch, soaked the measure of string in the nail polish remover and tied it around a Rolling Rock beer bottle.  I lit the string—correction, I tried to light the string.  I could barely get a flicker.  I tried different kinds of string without any success.
    Caleb and Jessica arrived.  We ate ice cream—the best Garey has ever made.  Garey and Caleb went off to Garey’s shop to look at the recurve bow Garey had just strung and to do other man-like things.  I recruited Jessica to help me with my bottle/string/fire project.
    I held the bottle while she struck the match and held the flame to the string.  It wouldn’t light for her either.  We tried other kinds of string: jute, shoe laces, nylon, cotton wick.  Nothing worked.
    “Maybe, there’s something wrong with the nail polish remover,” Jessica suggested.
    I grabbed a nearby piece of cardboard, poured the remover onto it and threw in a lit match.  “Whoomp!”  No, nothing wrong with the accelerant.  I beat out the flames that were quickly spreading toward the door mat, and measured out more string, this time wrapping it several times around the bottle after soaking it.  Lit match.  Again, nothing.
    “OK,” I said, “I’m moving on to a different accelerant.”
    Because I have a bottle business, I have a gazillion liquor bottles that have a bit of liquor left in the bottom of each.  I searched around until I found the Sailor Jerry rum bottle—92 proof should do it.
Soaked string, lit match.  Nothing.
    “Maybe, they used smoke and mirrors and this really isn’t possible,” I grumbled.
    “Well, this is too much fun to quit now,” Jessica said.
    “Let’s try rubbing alcohol,” I said, “It’s marked highly flammable.”
    Again, we soaked the string, wrapped the bottle, held the bottle, lit the string, threw the bottle.  I threw the bottle because the heat was so intense.  The shock that it actually worked was even more intense.  I wasn’t burned.  The bottle broke, as a result of being hurled onto concrete, not because it had been set on fire.
    “I think you might need a glove,” Jessica suggested.
    She was right, I needed a glove.  I put on a glove, wrapped another bottle and she lit the string.  I rotated the bottle to keep the heat even, like I had seen on those videos.  When the flames died down, I plunged the bottle into the bucket of cold water.  The bottle snapped cleanly in half.
    Jessica cheered, “That was fun,” she said, “I think I could be a pyro.”
    It was fun.  I think we’ll have to arrange another play day.  Naw, it wouldn’t be the same.  Real play days just happen.