The Spaghetti Thingy

Being a lover of kitchen gadgetry and matching sets; I had a cute little spaghetti set made by a popular plastic company. It consisted of a container for dried spaghetti, a strainer, a two pronged fork, and a bent pronged spoon-I called it the spaghetti thingy. All of the pieces were a dusty rose, which was a popular color in those days. I loved that set.

One day I went to get my spaghetti thingy and I could not find it. At that time I was living in a very small house, and it was easy to find most everything by just turning around. It was not in the house.

At that time also, my brother had come to live with me after his separation from his wife. I inquired of him if he had seen the spaghetti thingy, and he had not. The matching set had been “broken”, and I mourned the loss. But I never gave up the search! Things in my possession do not just disappear.

Some time later, needing the thingy again, I wondered where it could be. I must have muttered out loud, because my brother said, “It must have gotten destroyed when my buddy and I were grilling.”

I knew right away who his buddy was; he was a friend of mine also. Great guy and we had cooked outside many times with him. But a utensil had never been destroyed. I had a grill utensil set.

“When? I don’t remember anything getting ruined while cooking out.” I said.

My brother answers, “The night of the fire.”

“Fire?” Now I have taken two steps from the kitchen to face him sitting in the living room.

“Yeah,” he says. “When my buddy and I were grilling.”

He is acting and speaking like I should know about this. My mind is swirling, did I sleep through something? Did it happen when I was at work? He always told me when his buddy was coming over. And, why hadn’t he said something to me when it happened?

The questions started pouring out of me, “What are you talking about? What fire? When did this happen?”

He replies, “The weekend you went out of town with your friend, and the fire department came.”

By this time, I am completely flabbergasted, and I am sure my jaw was on the floor. Several months earlier, a friend and I had a girl’s weekend out of town, and my brother and his buddy partied at the house. I had thought that the house and yard had survived unscathed.

After sitting down in front of my brother, demanding more details, and dragging out of him anything I could, I found out most of the story.

He and his buddy were grilling out that weekend. Very late at night, apparently even early morning. The fire in the grill was large, by his description, and someone, I assume a neighbor, called the fire department. I assume also, that both my brother and his friend were pretty well lit up themselves.

Two tanker trucks and the Fire Chief showed up, very early in the morning. My brother says the sirens were going and everything. There was nothing to put out, and the Chief just asked them to be careful.

I was embarrassed by this incident for years, and for so many reasons, but the main one being that the fire department was called out for a false alarm. They are heroes for what they do, and I don’t take it lightly.

This incident happened many years ago, and I am no longer living in the same town. So, now I can chuckle a little when I think about what happened. And I can be glad that the only casualty was my spaghetti thingy. I stopped looking for it, and didn’t feel the lose of it any longer after hearing the story. I don’t know the details of its demise, but I can imagine.