Saturday morning, SBX and I took a nice, three mile walk around Wawaka Lake in Halcottsville, NY. Famished, we got back to the house and grilled/ate Panini sandwiches and then went outside to build a fire pit by the stream that runs behind the house. We pulled quarry stones from a pile left from the previous owner and arranged a fire proof circle. We then scrounged for broken branches and twigs and busted bamboo and made a teepee of wood ready to burn. Later that night, we set it afire and inaugerated the stone pit by roasting marshmallows with SBX's daughters. "Blow out your marshmallows TOWARDS the fire, kids." I told 'em a story about the time when I was a teenager and my East Hampton neighbor, Arthur, weaponized his candy treat, blew the flames from his Molotov Marshmallow towards me and the goopy concoction dislodged, flying directly towards my face with the stealth of a Kamikaze Pilot and latched onto the left side of my face with the credibility of napalm. It took a few weeks for my charred cheek to heal from Long Island's beta version of a dirty bomb.