Fire is pretty.

I got up this morning with the idea that I was going to get a lot of things done, but I got only as far as creating a list of things to do that went something like this:

1) Make a list of all the shit you have to do today.
2) Drink heavily.

I only accomplished number one before I felt so depressed that I had to go back to bed, where I unfortunately did not fall back to sleep, I just sort of laid there for a while feeling marooned. Crappy emotions continued on and off throughout the day, but I started feeling a little better tonight. The jury's still out on whether this is just a temporary chemical glitch or the start of a full-blown episode of suck. Let's hope the former.

I spent some time visiting my parents this evening, which was kind of nice. One of my brothers was there too, the one who likes to burn things. This is the brother who went to the Badlands the week before M and I did. Here are two pictures of him that his wife took while they were out there. Click 'em for the larger view. He enjoys being airborne.

Speaking of fire, I was intrigued by how many of you said you want to be cremated when you die. Coming from a big Catholic family, this isn't an option I had any idea was so popular. Everyone I've known who has died has been buried in a cemetery, usually in a family plot.

My answer to the question: Despite Suley telling me a creepy story about a cadaver, I'm donating my body to the hospital that saved my brother's life. After he got better, everyone in my family started donating blood regularly. Well, my blood is undonatable, for several reasons, and I have enough weird medical issues that it seems there could be some things learned from my corporeal remains when I finally bite the big one that I figure I'll just let the medical students cut me all into bits. So. There you have it.

It's not like I'll be using it, anyway. As Atpanda says, it just holds me. Em gets the prize for the most unusual answer. I'd like to learn how that could work...

At my parents' house this evening, we played Fireball. How's Fireball played, you ask? It goes something like this. You get a rag and soak it in oil, the sort of oil you put in an oil lamp. Then you wad it into a tight ball, and wrap it in copper wiring. Then you light it on fire. Then you put on a thick leather glove, and you throw the fireball at each other. It makes a great whooshing sound as it tears through the air. Fireball is best played in a very large yard, because when you're holding the fireball, you're in this bubble of bright and you can't see where the other person is; you more or less just wing it with all your might at the place you last saw them standing. The object of the game is to move far enough from where you were after you last threw the ball that the person getting ready to wing it back at you doesn't hit you with it, but to not go so far that you can't catch it.

It's quite a rush to catch a ball of fire tearing at you at a high rate of speed. It's also pretty difficult, as my brother demonstrates at right, here. There is a lot of spectacular leaping and contorting of one's body as the ability see and judge accurately where the fireball is going is tested.

Fireball is great exercise. Nothing motivates you to move fast like the threat of taking some flame in the face. I did manage to bounce it off the top of my brother's head at one point, and Nancy was running around like a maniac and tripped M so that he fell on it.

Nancy actually scared us, because we've never played it in front of her before--we can't play it in our yard because the whole thing is covered in silver maple trees, and Fireball requires some open sky--and anyway, Nancy went nuts trying to eat the fireball. She kept barking at it and pouncing on it and running away and coming back and trying to bite whoever was holding it.

Before anyone gets too freaked that we're abusing our dogs by letting them eat fire, it must be said that the fireball itself doesn't get all that hot, since it's just burning oil for the most part; it's hot enough that you need a glove, but not so hot that it's going to do you in if it hits you. If it bounces off your clothes, the only way your clothes will catch fire is if some of the oil gets on you. Here's a picture of Nancy making a heroic leap over the fireball. When we brought her home and turned on the light and had a good look at her, we had to laugh. It doesn't appear that she was burned at all, but all the whiskers on the left side of her face are about half as long as they were before.

Dogs. Sheesh.

Anyway. Guess that's all the news that's fit to print for now. Hope everyone is enjoying the weekend.