![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Fourth
Jul. 5th, 2013 12:40 amEver since we discovered the illicit aerial fireworks in the big field at the neighborhood schools a few years back, D. has been a huge, huge fan of the Fourth. He says it’s his favorite non-gift holiday, even surpassing Halloween. I love it too, those big colorful bursts right over my head, filling my whole field of vision, dazzling my eyes and my ears. I love it even more when my little one (even though he’s now somewhat big) is shrieking and jumping up and down and hugging me wildly with joy.
We started celebrating at 6:45 p.m., when the three of us walked over to the neighborhood potluck, carrying freshly baked brownies (J), a bag of fireworks (D), and Spanish potato-artichoke casserole (me). We had a really nice time conversing with friends and eating several plates of food. At one point, though, we were sitting too close to the basketball activities, and I got smacked in the head with the ball – my ear is still unnaturally warm, and alas, my $200 anti-migraine sunglasses are broken (probably covered by warranty?). Anyway. Once it got dark, they started setting off all the smaller fireworks. J. and I wandered up the street, where one of his coworkers, along with his son and the son’s friend, were doing much fancier ones, including aerials. The first one we saw had filled the whole view of the street with green, pink, and white, so very pretty! We kept walking back and forth between the two groups of fireworks, then we were too tempted by the ones in the school field, which we could see in the distance, and decided it was time to head there. So we collected the remnants of our potluck dishes and our blanket, dropped them off at the house, then made for the field as quickly as we could. D. ran several blocks ahead, but rushed back to find us as soon as we arrived, a huge grin on his face, eager to share the occasion. We walked as far as the track and let ourselves be overwhelmed with the occasion.
Finally, the fancier fireworks dwindled, and we came back home, to do the “driveway fireworks” we’d reserved for ourselves. We set up the first one where Lillian could see it from the doorway, and she did watch – she didn’t want to be held during the explosions, but once she was down on the floor, she was fascinated. The rest we did further down the driveway, two at a time, except for the final one, “Laser Rainbow,” which we had fun filming. We then soaked each of them in water, except for the one that had persisted in bursting into flames more than once after its pyrotechnics were done. D. poured water on its glowing ember and reduced it to a mess of ash. And thus ended the holiday.
We started celebrating at 6:45 p.m., when the three of us walked over to the neighborhood potluck, carrying freshly baked brownies (J), a bag of fireworks (D), and Spanish potato-artichoke casserole (me). We had a really nice time conversing with friends and eating several plates of food. At one point, though, we were sitting too close to the basketball activities, and I got smacked in the head with the ball – my ear is still unnaturally warm, and alas, my $200 anti-migraine sunglasses are broken (probably covered by warranty?). Anyway. Once it got dark, they started setting off all the smaller fireworks. J. and I wandered up the street, where one of his coworkers, along with his son and the son’s friend, were doing much fancier ones, including aerials. The first one we saw had filled the whole view of the street with green, pink, and white, so very pretty! We kept walking back and forth between the two groups of fireworks, then we were too tempted by the ones in the school field, which we could see in the distance, and decided it was time to head there. So we collected the remnants of our potluck dishes and our blanket, dropped them off at the house, then made for the field as quickly as we could. D. ran several blocks ahead, but rushed back to find us as soon as we arrived, a huge grin on his face, eager to share the occasion. We walked as far as the track and let ourselves be overwhelmed with the occasion.
Finally, the fancier fireworks dwindled, and we came back home, to do the “driveway fireworks” we’d reserved for ourselves. We set up the first one where Lillian could see it from the doorway, and she did watch – she didn’t want to be held during the explosions, but once she was down on the floor, she was fascinated. The rest we did further down the driveway, two at a time, except for the final one, “Laser Rainbow,” which we had fun filming. We then soaked each of them in water, except for the one that had persisted in bursting into flames more than once after its pyrotechnics were done. D. poured water on its glowing ember and reduced it to a mess of ash. And thus ended the holiday.