Firecracker Madness

The Fourth of July is upon us. It means a short work week that will result in sunshine, boat rides, good food, friends, and cold drinks. You throw on your red, white, and blue and put a little Toby Keith on, because that man's A--merican. I do love his song about "we'll stick a boot in your ass--it's the American way!" I hope Jessica wears her American flag bathing suit. I tried one on at Old Navy this year, but...eh, didn't do much for me!

Of course, fireworks are a defining element of this holiday. I love fireworks displays, like the pretty ones that are put on at Lake Martin every year, even sparklers are nice ( a little dull though) but I REALLY love firecrackers. There is a difference. I have vivid memories of begging my parents to take me to the Black Cat trailers in town so that I could pick out my seasonal "stash," as a young child. Didn't you always want the HUGE $50.00 Black Cat thing that was waist high? I know I did. I saw one go off once, it was pretty fantastic.

My absolute favorite were those white, popper things that you would throw at people's feet. They were great! I would throw them at my brother really hard, but they would only bust on a hard surface, so that didn't work out for me. They were fun to sneak up on people with too, even our poodle was not safe from my wrath. Roman Candles were another highlight. Dad always found those to be a little dangerous, but he would let me hold them once he had gotten them going, far out to my side. You always had to shake them good at the end, because just when you thought they were through, BAM--one more pow left! There was another thing, once you lit it, it uncoiled into a snake--very wicked sweet to a small kid.

Oh...but let's talk Bottle Rockets. We always had a lot of those, because they were cheap, came in a big pack, and I believe the fuse is a bit short. It was always exciting to see if Dad was going make it back after lighting it in a Coke can without getting blasted. Well, one particular 4th (or an evening around the 4th), some of my Dad's friends were at the house. I was really young, so I'm guessing Dad and his pals were early 30s, which doesn't seem old now. I was always right under foot around the older crowd. Well, I will assume that cold beers were involved and this rowdy group started THROWING the bottle rockets. I suppose that was even more exciting, to see if you could get it out of your hand before it blasted. One particular bottle rocket hit one of the pine trees in our front yard and came back on...guess who's...little tiny leg! It hurt, I cried, and I hated EVERYONE. I retreated inside, tail between my legs, and sported a band aid on the inner thigh for about a week.

I haven't bought firecrackers in years, and I think I'm going to indulge this year. I do hope everyone refrains from throwing the bottle rockets, not cool! Also, everyone say a little prayer for Iris, who is really scared of firecrackers. She gets a little stressed this time of the year when the neighborhood kids are shooting them. Thanks!