54 degrees in March after over 30 inches of snow in February? I was most definitely outside yesterday. I explored two different parks in Columbus with my camera in hand. Of course, I always have my camera in my hand, it being mostly attached to my face.

One of the parks was the Columbus Park of Roses. I didn’t know it existed. Despite the fact that no roses were in bloom (it is only March, after all) it was still fantastically beautiful. I caught some beautiful photos of the rose bushes that will soon spring forth with beauty, color and new life.

Throughout the park there are beautiful pathways. These pathways have 12×12 (and 8×8) engraved stones that people have purchased in honor or memory of someone in their lives. I enjoyed reading some of them as I walked and soaked up some much needed sunlight. Some included eulogies, like my favorite, “She never slowed down.” Others were wedding dates and names, most likely having been married during blooming season at the park.

And then I tripped over this one.

I literally read it as my foot passed over it and I had to stumble backward and reread it. I took a few pictures. I stood there for a few moments and wondered what individual or group of individuals thought to dedicate a stone in a park of roses to these firefighters. Was it someone who lost a loved one? Was it another firefighter who, living in Ohio, felt helpless in 2001? Was it a group of firefighters? Was it a family who felt a tug to honor their heroes? I don’t know the answer. Someone spent $200 to forever remember those firefighters.

I wish I could thank that person myself.

Fire life seems to touch so much of my own life. As we walked down the Short North last night after supper, a group of Columbus fire trucks raced to a scene that I assume was a false alarm. The aerial truck responded and a bit of fear pulsed through my veins. I didn’t get a picture because my fingers were frozen at this point, the sun having dipped down behind the buildings. But, like the stone in the park had said earlier that day, I gazed upon the scene with a hopeful heart that everything would be okay and said a prayer and a brief thank you. They may not be my firefighters from my department but they’re still part of our fire family, wherever I happen to be.

Even in a rose garden.

It’s been awhile since I’ve looked over and written about fire search strings that lead people to this blog. It’s interesting to look through our stats and find out what fire specific searches caused people to come here. Sometimes they’re funny. A few are repeat offenders. Some are scary.

Let’s take a look at some recent and/or frequent searches.

1. Firefighter costumes/helmets/homemade/etc. It’s the number one search string in general, actually, that brings people to our humble Internet abode. Our favorite firefighter costume is still the Aeromax one that we reviewed last year. We have it in both black and yellow. As far as homemade costumes go, I will remind you that I’m not crafty. However, I did give some instructions and one of our readers actually accomplished it. Glad I could be of help!

2. Accidentally left gas burner on all night. QUIT GOOGLING. Turn it off. Open a window. Don’t turn on anything else. Get out of your house. QUIT GOOGLING. Call the Fire Department. Google outside from your phone. Out out out.

3. Fire helmet cookies. We actually got our fire truck, hydrant and helmet cookie cutters as a wedding gift with no brand imprinted on them. A quick Google search brings up a few affordable results, including this one from Fancy Flours. That said, I have a new tip to share other than the food coloring issue I shared last time. Roll your cookies thin. Whatever recipe you’re using, if you want your fire truck to look like anything more than a fluffy phallic symbol, roll them very thin. As an added tip: cook them for a minute less. Otherwise? Burnt cookies.

4. Do firefighters make more money when they ____. The rest of the search string was cut off. The answer? Likely not. Okay, okay. I kid. Firefighters may not be the highest paid people in our country but professional firefighters do make money. Most departments pay extra for call outs (you know, the fires that happen while you’re eating Christmas Eve dinner) and extended shifts. It depends on the department. But, in case you were wondering, you’re never going to be a millionaire on firefighting alone.

5. Is firefighting boring? No! Stories usually start out like, “So, there I was, flames shooting 30 feet in the air.” I mean, our sons want to be firefighters, not a freelance writer who moonlights as a photographer. To them, firefighters are the be all and end all of everything that is awesome. Yes, there’s down time as a firefighter. Yes, you have to clean trucks, wash floors and respond to false alarms. But anyone who considers running into a burning building to be a boring action likely has a strong death wish. Plus, there’s the added bonus of the uniform hotness. See below.

Whatever the reason you’ve landed here, I’m glad you have! Feel free to subscribe to the blog, leave a comment on a recent post or ask a question either in the comments on this post or via the contact form. I have a new firefighter book review (for kids) coming up in the near future along with a review of some “firefighter hot” snacks. Fun!

We got our Girl Scout cookies just yesterday. We experienced a bit of a delay thanks to the Never Ending Winter of Doom. I had two of my favorites last night. Just two. I asked if it was possible to eat just two, considering that two Samoas pack 150 calories and I didn’t want to exceed my daily limit. While it was suggested that I just eat the entire box so that I didn’t have the same problem today, I did manage to eat just two.

Later, as I stared longingly at the box from across the room, I realized something. Samoas are a firefighter’s favorite cookie!

Firefighter helmet wearing Girl Scout! A female firefighter showing girls how to use a fire hose! Hooray for the Girl Scouts!

I then did a little Googling to see if there was any specific reason as to why the Samoas box features firefighting as a profession. During that search, I found a happy little story about a fire station serving as the delivery center for a troop’s cookie order. (And a few other stories that were similar!) I then learned of a special badge, the 2010 Gift of Caring Project, which encourages Girl Scouts to deliver boxes donated by their customers to firefighters, police officers, shelters and other non-profit organizations. I can tell you that FireDad’s station wouldn’t turn down a box of free cookies.

Unfortunately, I can’t tell you why the Girl Scouts chose to use a firefighter themed picture on their Samoas box. They’re two great pictures and I send a big thumbs up to the Girl Scouts for including them because we know that women make wonderful firefighters. I would tell you that we were making the Samoa the Official Cookie of the FireFamily but, alas, FireDad doesn’t like coconut.

Guess I’ll have to eat them, two by two…

…all by myself. Done and done.

It’s tough competing with FireDad.

I mean, if you were a four year old and you were asked, “Do you want to be a firefighter like your daddy or a writer/photographer like your mommy,” what would you choose? If you were a two year old and asked the same question, what would you answer? I lose every time. Every single time.

I don’t run into burning buildings. I stand outside with my camera and try to capture the action; I don’t live it. I write about what I felt afterward; I don’t tell the firefighter stories that start with, “So there I was, flames shooting seventy feet in the air.” Feelings are always less interesting than flames shooting in the air. I don’t save people’s lives. I don’t drive a big, red, shiny fire truck.

I’m so boring.

I was getting ready to head out to work last night and LittleBrother was bebopping around the kitchen. I told him that I was getting ready to go to work and asked, “At the new-paper?” I confirmed that and asked if he wanted to go with me and said, “No.” Then I launched into a series of (leading) questions and asked him if he wanted to be a firefighter or a photographer when he grew up.

“Fireman.”

Okay, so I apparently need to work on gender-inclusive titles on top of my children thinking I’m boring. Thrilling.

At that point I pulled a typical Mommy Guilt moment and boo-hoo-ed that no one wanted to be like me. FireDad gave me a look that said, without saying anything at all, that I was being lame on top of being boring. Even more thrilling. I put on my coat, whined about the weather and started to give out goodbye kisses. During my whining and dressing for the Never Ending Snow, LittleBrother had made his way to the toy box, found his (play) camera and came to take my picture.

“Say boogers and cookies, Mommy.”

Aww, maybe he is more like me than I think. Thrilling.