tonight's episode - 'the case of the filched fire wood!'

When my Tool Man and I moved into our present house, we were most excited at the prospect of having a fireplace in our living room. We both imagined winter nights with a roaring fire crackling in our cozy abode, the heat emanating into the room a metaphor for our burning love. The first time we left the house following a visit with the former owners, we were barely out of the driveway when we turned to each other and both exclaimed, "FIREPLACE!!"

"You know what that means, don't you?" Tool Man asked.

"Hell, yes! We can make s'mores any damn time we want!" I cheered.

"Oh, well, not quite what I was thinking," Tool Man responded, wiggling his eyebrows. "I was thinking more along the lines of sex in front of the fireplace. Romance. You know. All that." (sidebar - ah, the good old days...)

"Are you sure this isn't just your way of avoiding marshmallows?" I said. "I mean, I don't like them, either, but we're talking s'mores, honey..."

Long story short, we soon took possession of the house and have enjoyed our fireplace several times when winter has whipped across the tundra. Has there been sex in front of the fireplace in that time? Yes, although, to be honest, the fireplace wasn't in use at those times (hold on a moment, let me ask Tool Man something - "Is it because I'm all the molten hot love you need?" "What? Did you say something? I'm playing a game here!")(sidebar - ah, the good old days...). Have there been delectable s'mores made in our living room? I regret to tell you the answer to that is also no, and also, did you know you could whip those delicious bad boys up in a microwave in under 20 seconds? The more you know (the bigger your ass can possibly get)...

Thanks to the miracle of blankets working in tandem with my super hot hotness (aided by delicious s'mores...mmmm...s'mores!), we really haven't used the fireplace we were so excited about in quite awhile. However, we have kept a large supply of firewood stacked out on a corner of our lot should the desire strike.

Until today, that is!

(cue the Scooby Doo theme song!)

This morning, I was standing on our deck, taking in the glory of the straw-colored grass and the tattered plastic bags being held tight in the branches of our bare trees, surveying all the eye could see, when I noticed something considerably wrong in our yard. Despite it's considerableness, it still took me a moment to realize what wasn't right. Finally, it hit me that our gigantic pile of wood was gone. Not only that, but the villain or villains had also absconded with two large wood pallets the firewood rested on, and removed a half-buried piece of rebar (which, interesting sidenote, I've been asking Tool Man to remove from around the firewood pile as well as the four trees growing in our backyard for years, only to have him tell me it was virtually impossible because the ground - or Earth, as he likes to call it - was too tough)

I present to you People's Exhibit A (where once firewood stood) and People's Exhibit B (a close-up look at how easily rebar can apparently be removed):

Shocking, isn't it? In fact, some might even say ZOINKS!

I immediately made like Shaggy and Scooby, my feet spiraling in one spot for several seconds before propelling myself inside to tell Tool Man and the rest of the gang we needed to hop into the Mystery Machine and head straight for the Haunted Mansion to solve this one (fingers crossed it was the work of a bunch of knuckle-heads wearing masks!).

Tool Man, in his best Freddy fashion, straightened his ascot and went next door to see if the neighbors had heard or seen anything suspicious while I, doing my best aloof Daphne (I really do not care one bit for these particular neighbors), waited in the yard for him to come back with our first clue.

"They said a woman came knocking on their sliding glass door a few days ago, asking them if that was their firewood out back," Tool Man quickly reported. "Also, they said the woman scared them to death!"

"Was it because she was wearing a mask and told them they must leave this haunted place immediately?!" I asked (fingers crossed)(these people really need to move, pronto), thinking we were going to solve this case quicker than anticipated, upholding the grand tradition of allowing some sad sack to curse us for not allowing them to get away with their plan.

"No," Tool Man sighed. "It's because she came through their backyard to knock at the back of the house."

Care to see my neighbor's backyard?

It's funny they answered their sliding glass door, because we're well aware of the fact they've never answered their front door to the city compliance officer who routinely comes around to inform them their broken fence and fence panels laying everywhere is a violation of city code. The second photo? Oh, that's a view of their fence (built RIGHT ON TOP of the property line) from my yard. Wavy, baby! I swear, one day, I'm going to put a mask on and set that thing ablaze (and now let's forget we ever had this conversation...). Anyway, the fence serves as a pretty clear indictator that our wood pile, at about 5 feet from the fence, is not likely the neighbor's possession.

We then stood around looking at the crime scene for several minutes, but spied no clues. After several hours cruising around in the Mystery Machine, listening to Velma as she tried to harsh our buzz with her logic, and consuming copious amounts of Scooby Snacks, we decided we'd call the police and at least report a theft and/or vandalism. Here's a funny thing, though. Crime apparently takes the weekends off here in the suburbs. Lawman, lawman, lawman, where are you? No one answers the phone at our police station after 5 p.m., on Fridays. Had the 49 Miner been privy to such information in episode 4 of the first season of Scooby Doo, I've no doubt he'd have outsmarted Scooby and the gang, thus saving the world from later special episodes involving the Harlem Globetrotters and the Addams Family (and, blech, Scrappy Doo).

The irony in this? This unsolved mystery involving hot firewood now gets filed away as a cold case.

rut row...