Good News!  This post is not at all, not even the slightest bit, about us trying to fire dance, being burned by a fire dancer, or hitching a ride with a fire dancer.  Moms & Grandmas (and probably neurosurgeon and archery instructor who worry our antics)…

You’re welcome.

No one in our party attempted to touch the fire, or strike up conversation with the fire dancer while he worked.  Which, in retrospect, might have been a pretty good idea, because he looked… well… bored.

Really Dude?  You juggle fire as a job.  You’d think that was a person who embraced life, lived on the edge …   …smiled.  Or made eye contact once.

In his defense, he did an excellent job twirling fire all around, in ways which would cause me to burn down my house, probably my neighbor’s house (sorry DD), and somehow horribly burn not only myself and my family, but innocent passersby.  So, true, maybe I should just keep my less-than-amateur mouth shut.

And, for all I know, he was just dumped by his girl or his pet fish died.  In which case, I’m very sorry, apologize profusely, in both cases share the wisdom that there are other fish in the sea.  Now let me buy you an adult beverage as a peace offering.

Either way, it makes for cool pictures.