Of Rocket Stoves -- The Sequel

I’ve now used my rocket stove—my I-dropped-my-name-in-a-basket-and-won-a-rocket-stove-that-everybody-else-wanted rocket stove. 

              [Click here to read Of Rocket Stoves and Asking Why]

I say I’VE used it. Actually, my good friends Denny and Judy hosted a rocket stove party, and all I had to do was bring the stove. (“Thank you, Denny and Judy!”)

Denny and I (and Murphy) gathered the twigs. Denny lit the stove, provided the extra hot air oxygen . . . and the humor.

And Judy fixed a gourmet meal you’d never guess was cooked on a rocket stove.

The neighbors were intrigued.

(And now, Denny and Judy have new friends—friends who’ve lived next door for sixteen years.)

I fell in love. Judy’s puppy Murphy stole my heart.

(Yours would’ve melted, too!)

We enjoyed a gourmet meal together, laughter, and solving America’s problems (Denny reminded us Who is really in charge).

All because of a rocket stove.

Judy summed it up perfectly: “Such a simple thing that turned into a very special evening!”

And I now know why everyone wanted one.

Or at least . . . I know why I’m the glad owner of a rocket stove.