Friday, March 09, 2012

March 9 - Red

I once nearly burned our house down. It's a true story.

After telling my kids not to play with candles when they're lit, I did that very thing, and ran my finger through the flame of a candle as it burned beside me on my desk.

Oh, I thought I was so clever to enjoy a little fire while I wrote. Just like my heroine would have as she wrote in her journal. And I just couldn't help myself.

In a moment of weakness, I made the flame dance with the quick passing of my finger and I don't to this day know how I managed it, but ended up with a lit candle, still burning on the carpet at my feet. In a pool of molten wax. Not the interruption I needed.

I learned my lesson that day. I learned how to remove wax from wool, how to scrape it off the edge of a wooden desk, and how to place any future candles on the book shelf, way beyond my reach.

And now you know why I wear a writing shawl. It's a safer way of disappearing into the 1870s than going up in smoke.