Pop-pop-pop… BLAM!!

It’s the Fourth of July and for the past three days the eager locals have been making loud test explosions to make sure that tonight their fireworks will detonate properly.

Pop Pop Pop whiiiiine  BLAM.  Now that it’s finally getting dark on the actual holiday, all young at heart are lighting their incendiary devices.  Already I have heard two fire engine sirens…

My dog used to freak out on the Fourth, but she’s 14 and deaf now, so it’s of little interest any more. I hate to think what it would be like for someone with PTSD.

The last time we bought fireworks was probably ten years ago – still with a teenage boy at home. I couldn’t believe how much the coolest ones cost.  I think we spent about a hundred bucks.

My ex spent it; I never would have…  I remember watching fireworks being made when I visited China in 1981.  Families sat on the floor in their huts assembling the sticks and explosive materials, wrapping them in colorful papers.  KIds as young as six or seven helping out.  That pretty much cured me.

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