Is over. On the eve of the new decade, we were in Provincetown, but were unable to have our annual beach fire because of snow and high wind. At the annual ritual, we jot down things we want to burn up from the old year and toss them in the fire.

Some whiny friends seemed relieved that we called it off, but even I could not have gotten my secret fire starter, the duraflame log [known in Manhattan as deli-wood:] started. And the snow would have wreaked havoc with our planned paper mache...