Our family room, which is also our kitchen, is the coldest room in our house. The room where we spend 90% of our time is downright chilly in the winter. We joke that we heat our house along the lines of drafty Britsh coutry homes (circa WWII), but the tall French doors, which I love, don't contain the little heat that we do have.
I've been angling for one of those sweet electric fireplaces, but Neel is having none of it. Instead he dragged out our old kerosene heater and fired that puppy up. It's the kerosene heater from his childhood. From the drafty old house he grew up in. And let's face it, despite how ugly it may be, that thing is a dream.
It casts a lovely glow and heat around the room, and we feel quite toasty cozied up around it. The dogs, as you can see, were wary at first. Lucy, poor Lucy, is wary of everything. She's the most skittish beagle you'll ever meet.
Thea Turbo McFatty had different plans. She loves the heat, and she is unafraid. The first night we had it out, she watched it from the safety of her bed; every clatter of the heater's handle had her ears alert. By the second night, she was asleep with her head on its base. Toasty.
Still, I haven't given up on my hope for a fireplace. You knew that, right?
