Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Celebrating our independence by prostrating myself to the children

Ah, Independence Day:

The signing of the Declaration of Independence? No. It was signed mostly throughout the next couple of months. No email, folks, no fax, just horses and long days of travel. It took awhile to get everyone's John Hancock on the document.

Fireworks. And not the "ooh ahh" kind of way. Pants is outside right now making sure the house isn't on fire. It appears that our neighborhood did not learn last year's lesson of the house on the cul-de-sac burning down from wayward fireworks. The whole neighborhood is pulsating with illegal fireworks. I'm so glad we have been left with Jesse Ventura's legacy of legal fireworks so that every dork thinks they have a right to buy illegal fireworks because "no one will notice."

Went to a parade in Afton today. Other than driving an hour to sit out in the super-hot sun for an 8-block parade stacked 6 people deep where the floats have to double back on themselves because they have nowhere else to go, it was a nice day. Jeff James (friend of Pants) was playing outside the Afton Inn and Catfish Saloon, which is what we really went to see, and oddly, SIL's quasi-boyfriend/whatever-boy works at the Catfish Saloon, so she is already there with his kids watching the parade. And Jeff's wife is there with their two kids, and then a friend of hers that we also know showed up too. Fun day, buy very hot and tiring. Once again, my kids rock. They were perfect!

One year, when we lived in North Dakota where fireworks are legal and they send you catalogs, my parents ordered a batch of fireworks and we set them off on the quiet street in front of our house. We had a great time, my parents played it pretty safe (although I now know it's an illusion, the neighbors thought they were safe in the cul de sac). But we had fun and I still remember that July 4th.

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