It has been a long, draining, challenging day, and we’re expecting another overnight low around the freezing mark, so I decided to light a fire and kick back with a glass of my favorite Pinot Noir by Peter Brum. I’ve been watching the fire, and my brain is swarming with thoughts:

• Wouldn’t it be cool if we could travel and talk to each other via floo powder, like in the Harry Potter series? I think of the time when Sirius appeared in the fireplace of the common room, which then reminds me of how he appeared again when Harry activated the Resurrection Stone. I have seen that movie at least a half-dozen times, and I cry at that scene every, single time.
• Did I set my variables correctly in the columns and rows, or are they backwards? What the heck is the difference, and are they “within” or “between” comparisons? Did I choose the correct ANOVA measurement? Am I going to finish this paper in time? What will I do if I cannot disprove the null hypothesis? This paper is the groundwork for my dissertation, and I haven’t even entertained the thought of starting over with a new topic.
• I think about the first camp bonfire that I can remember: roasting s’mores and singing while the camp leader played guitar.
• I think about the house fire that I covered while working as a newspaper reporter: a family watching their house being gutted from the inside-out.
• Life is like fire sometimes. Once it starts blazing, it’s too late to change your mind and decide you didn’t want to light it. You have to wait it out; let it burn. I hear the whoosh, pop, crackle and think about the things that feel like they are whooshing, popping and crackling in my own life. Sometimes circumstances feel out of control or undesired, but then I remember that the safety mesh that keeps the fire from tumbling onto the hearth (and into my den, setting my house ablaze) is like God’s hand in my life. Sometimes, it feels like he lets the fire rage, and when I’m in the middle of it, it can feel unbearable, but then I am reminded that he has everything under control; there is nothing to fear.
• I wonder about my colleague who died. He wasn’t married and had no kids, but he still left behind a family. I think about dying sometimes. I hope that I’m an old woman when the Lord brings me home — though not miserably old, just contentedly so. If he were to take me sooner, then I trust that God would take care of the boys, not only for their physical well-being, but also emotionally. But still — I’m not in a hurry to leave. What’s ironic is that if I were to suddenly die, then I’m sure that somehow, someone could attribute it to my being overweight. And yet, look at my colleague, and my friend’s dad, and other seemingly healthy, active people who actually exercised on purpose. I tell ya, it isn’t very motivating. Yeah, yeah — I know I need to be more active and get back to being physically fit, but sheesh — if people are dying who actually like to work out, then what hope is there for the rest of us?! I’m just sayin’.
• The fire is still burning out, and I don’t like to leave it unattended, so I can’t go to bed yet. Come to think of it, I don’t know exactly what I’d do if somehow it did escape the safety mesh. I suppose I’d go fetch the fire extinguisher and hope that it still worked after having not been used for however many years it has been stored under the kitchen sink. I should probably look into testing &/or replacing it.