Boom.

A recent email has inspired me to explain why I missed the past 3 years' worth of Fourth of July fireworks. It's really not that interesting--just that a couple friends of ours throw a pool party every year, and, them being in Virginia and us in Maryland (that was an interesting approximation of the English language), it takes a long time to drive home, and we usually wound up driving during Prime Firework Time.

Sometimes this isn't so bad... I'll never forget, back in Westport, driving alongside Compo Beach in my dad's old Hyundai, fireworks popping over my head as I craned my neck underneath the tiny windshield to see them better, running over small mammals as I did so, probably. I think it was Memorial Day, though, not the Fourth. (I miss Compo Beach, and I miss high school, too. Pretty pathetic, for someone who wasn't a football player or even particularly well-liked to have peaked at 17, huh?)

Anyway, this year we didn't have that excuse. It was just too damn hot to leave the house. K had an excuse, of course--she's eight months pregnant--but I was just lazy. Oh well. I hope, next year, I can see them SOMEwhere. Maybe we'll go down to the Eastern Shore, and see them in Salisbury with Mom-mom and Pop-pop, like I did so many times in my youth.