...I did not get to watch tonight's fireworks festivities pantsless.
Normally, you can see the local fireworks show from my kitchen window. The nice people who blow things up for my town to celebrate the Fourth of July changed the trajectory of this year's explosives enough that Mr. Scoop and I had to take it (and our illegal "open containers") outside. I was just pleased that we got to spend the holiday together. Nothing says romance like thundering booms, bright flashes of light and the smell of cordite.
It was a beautiful evening.
I love the fact that I can see the town fireworks display from my apartment. Like Le Tigre, I too like things that go boom. Not necessarily cars, but anything that ends in man-made thunder and concussive force (particularly with a light show), well, then I'm a fan. Let me watch it 10 yards from my apartment with a large glass of sangria and a sippy straw from Friendly's that turns colors when it gets cold - and it's like Christmas has come early.
Which is cool because my birthday is only a week from Christmas and I often get shafted on gifts.
...When I was a kid, my dad wanted us to adore fireworks. But, cheaply.
There was the M-80 that he got off a guy at work for a case of Knickerbocker that turned out to be a dud. I'm still not sure who got the worse end of that deal.
Then there was the Fourth of July spent watching grown adults eat dried hot peppers, chased by cheap beer on a bet, until the house we were in may have been in violation of the Geneva Convention. My father's nose turned Barney Purple and anyone younger than 12 fled to the basement in fear. We children huddled there and prayed that gas was lighter than air.
Finally, let's not forget there was the Fourth of July spent on the side of a side of a road. We were in Stick-de-la-Stickville. Dad, in between pulls from his travel cup full of club soda and cheap scotch, claimed we would be able to see the town firework display perfectly, without the added annoyance of crowds and traffic from our position. He also claimed that the body of water adjacent to our position would keep us extra safe. What he failed to point out was that our "position" was one town over from where we lived and that the "adjacent body of water" was a swamp.
We got a better pyrotechic show from lighting the very necessary Deep Woods Off aerosol spray on fire to amuse ourselves in the lulls between "Shit! You can almost see something!" than from the fireworks. And dad got to avoid a DUI. Again.
I love you, Dad. RIP.
And Happy damn Birthday, glorious country of ours.
Please continue to give us more reasons to blow stuff up.