There is nothing like doing nothing by a fire. Well, not exactly nothing, sipping wine and eating Brie on a fig and olives marinated in garlic and lemon. I never think of much of anything at all in front of the fire. The fire captures me and I stare at it, zombie like. I am giving my mind a rest and the fire reassures me that I can and that I must. I am too alert in Manhattan, too anxious about this or that, too concerned about whatever and too damn hyped up on traffic, traffic lights and too many bimbos on cell phones who walk in front of my car talking or texting about what they perceive as vitally important. I might have run them over, their not aware that it is my light but thankfully I come to my senses in time and one more cell phone junkie lives another day.
I wonder if they know how to do nothing by a fire. Conversation is lazy when the fire burns and cackles. Putting the next log in is the perfect weekend exercise. What I perceive this weekend as vitally important is the warmth of it and the lazy, cozy vacation my muddled thoughts are on. By a fire I am happy, by a fire I am vulnerable. By a Fire I am in love.
