Roasted marshmallows anyone?

So last night, Husband had to go to a dinner thing because he volunteers for the local fire department’s rehab group (quick note: When I say rehab, I don’t mean physical rehab. I mean they follow the fire dept to the scene and provide a place to rest, get snacks, use the bathroom and some medical monitoring). this thing every year they give away door prizes. One year he won tickets for us to go to Medieval Times (which if you’ve never been…GO. Now.) which was kind of awesome.

This year…he won a cast iron basket with legs that’s a “fire basket”. Um…well. That’s interesting. Because we don’t go out in our backyard that often, let alone often enough to have or use a fire basket or fire pit or whatever. In fact, earlier in the summer, I went out onto our deck to sun myself while Husband was at work and our son was at my mother in law’s. I sat down in one of our outdoor chairs and the canvas supporting the bottom (under the cushion) had rotted out and left my butt hanging down. I ended up just throwing two of the cushions on the deck with a couple pillows I filched from the house up against the railing. It wasn’t the best set up, but it worked.

I honestly don’t even know what we’re going to do with this “fire basket”. My first suggestion was that we repackage it and give it away as a Christmas gift to either my husband’s parents or his sister’s family. This was met with a look of “Are you nuts?”. I also got this look when I suggested we try to sell it on a local garage sale site.

So I guess we have a “fire bucket”. Maybe it’ll actually get cool enough at some point for us to use it.


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