The Sunflower Seeds

Have you ever roasted sunflower seeds?

I have.

Well, actually, that’s not true. Unless you would call scorching the seeds beyond recognition “roasting.”

I guess I would call what I did to the kernels: “turning them into charcoal dust.” They were merely a fine black powder after I finished with them.

Let’s just say they were inedible.

I prepared for days. I looked up recipes, watched videos, and mentally went over each step carefully.

I soaked the seeds in saltwater, spread them out on a metal cookie sheet, and placed them in the oven.

My wife was utilizing the waterfall component of the powder room. Son #1 was clanging pots and pans and raining blows upon the door to the water closet. God forbid his mother should have ten minutes out of her day to relax.

I had just gotten Son #2 asleep, taken him to the bassinet, and dragged Son #1, kicking and screaming, to the living room. I guess he was afraid that his mom might not survive without the sound of sonic booms permeating her tranquility.

In the process of corralling our oldest child, Son #2 woke up.

We reached the living room, and I got Son #1 seated on the couch, and he pledged a solemn oath to stay until I could coax Son #2 asleep again. Ha!

I was heading back to the bedroom when I sensed a hint of fog in the air. I stopped and looked around. The fog seemed to be rolling in from the kitchen.

I peeked around the corner and realized the fog was pouring from the oven.

“The saltwater on the seeds must be vaporizing.” I thought to myself.

I turned to get Son #2 and decided to go ahead and get a visual of the progression of the roasting.

I opened the oven door a hair’s breadth.

Flames leaped out of the oven.

I let go of the door, and it slammed shut. Panic took the reins of my thought process for a split second.

I opened the oven door again. I thought the flames had been big before. But they had gotten bigger.

I turned on the faucet, grabbed one of my wife’s best hand towels, and picked up the cookie sheet. The sheet was a solid flame reaching at least a foot into the air.

I threw the flame of fire into the kitchen sink, scattering flaming charcoal seeds across the countertop.

The hand towel caught fire, and I dropped it on the floor. After I stomped it out, I realized the smoke alarms were blaring, both Sons were screaming, and Charity was wondering if she would have to come out to a scorched house.

I opened the door and relayed the happenings of the last ten minutes since she had entered the shower.

I opened all the windows, turned on the fans, and my family went to spend the night at my parent’s house.

It was bad.

I stayed up most of the night, took off work the next day, and scrubbed the entire house, floor to ceiling.

So, needless to say, I’ll get my sunflower seeds in a bag at the store from now on.

to my fellow pyrotechnicians,
– Caleb