I have a confession to make. I think fire is…(exhale)….very sexy. One of my favorite scents on a man is barbeque smoke. There’s just something about being able to “control” fire that I think is just so powerful and mysterious and chivalrous. Since, I don’t have a man, I had to take matters into my own hand. I learned how to barbecue last year and with more practice will be quite good at it. This year, actually today, I got to make… fire. Tricked ya! I bet you thought I was going to type “make love.” HA!! Ok. I’m done with my joke.
The camp counselors were split into two groups—boys and girls—and were given 60 minutes, a tin can with water in it, an egg, a lighter, and instructions to go boil it. We had to go scavenging for fire sticks and branches and anything naturally combustible that comes from the ground (no bug spray or lighter fluid allowed). It was the coolest and most rudimentary thing to do. Obviously, everybody in ancient days past and some people in days present have had to cook things on an open fire. I can’t IMAGINE having to do so for all the meals. So if I just wanted to heat up some leftovers back in 600 b.c., that process would not be as simple as zapping my innocent food molecules with radioactive, carcinogenic, and probably somewhat deadly micro waves. Oh vanity, convenience, and technology how you eventually kill us all. But as you can see, I am currently making significant strides to rid my future of microwaves. NOT! I’ll still use them, but as I do so, I will reminisce on the time in Holly, Michigan when I was Jenaya the Fire Diva.
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