So Then There Was That Time I Nearly Burned to Death

crossposted from one of my forums, because hey, this was EXCITING:

My dear darling husband nearly burned our house down last week! Cooking! I don't know how the man does it, but he always makes huge billowing clouds of billow when he cooks *anything*. He can get smoke going in a stew. So I was not surprised to see the kitchen erupt in smoke; I was surprised to see him being lit by the flame of a merry blaze.

You know what my dear sweet wonderful husband did then, confronted with a brightly burning grease fire?

He blew at it.

Twice.

And said "Whoa", when it jumped higher, and directly towards him.

Meanwhile, I was of course saying, in a calm and rational and not the least panicking voice, "BAKING SODA! USE THE BAKING SODAOHMYGODWHATAREYOUDOING BAKINGSODA! RIGHT! THERE!"

I handle stress well.
In my defense, I was gathering our valuables for imminent flight.
At last my husband's language processing centers finally realized that "baking soda" was not an epithet, and dumped about 1.5 pounds of white powder on our 4 inch radius burner. The flames went out, with a final billow of white smoke.

And quoth the cause of all the trouble, "Wow."

And so the day was saved, thanks to the power of common sense. Shouted at 150 decibels.

Until he did it again, five minutes later.