Last year when we blogged about why we (ok, Linda) hate the 4th of July, people sent us hate mail. At least that gave us something to laugh about as we pretended to not be home when the in-laws came a knockin'. Not much has changed since last July. We're still reminded of those pot smoking-Stepford- Family block parties we had to attend while visiting our aunt and uncle in Walla Walla~ where the scariest ever Great Dane wandered around unleashed, a busty woman caught on fire while playing with firecrackers and our aunt taught us all the evils of sugar as she passed us little baggies of flavorless sunflower seeds. Keep our memories in mind if you've got your very shy niece over for the weekend...forcing shy kids to attend big parties will make them blog about it 28 years from now.
In between the years of forced party going and the near deadly car accident caused by a drunk driver without insurance (of course), there were all those holiday nights of firecrackers that literally scared the crap out of our poor doggies. Those weekends were always fun. Almost as fun as New Year's Eve when people shoot guns in the sky- that scares dogs, too, and it really scares the people who are standing beneath the bullet that magically falls back down. I remember being at the hospital the night of the car accident. My husband had been whisked off to another room and the nurse dragged me to the window so I wouldn't miss any of the local fireworks show. Yeah, right. I bet now SHE remembers that 4th of July ten years ago as much as I do. I feel kind of bad about that:
Nurse: Come, come, you must see the fireworks!
Me: Um, I can't really move. Where is my husband?
Nurse: Here, take my hand, I'll help you. You can't miss the fireworks!
Me: I'm seeing my own private fireworks show in my head right now, it's fine. Where's my husband?
Nurse, dragging me to the window: COME ON LET'S SEE THEM! You can't miss the fireworks! That's the whole point of the 4th of July!
Me: Firecrackers symbolize "bombs bursting in air" so what is so fucking glorious about a BOMB?!! Bombs kill people. Where's my husband?!
Whew, that nurse should've been happy it wasn't a Thanksgiving reenactment she was dragging me to. This year, we'll continue to pretend we aren't home as we cuddle on the couch with our bowl of cherries and a stack of movies.
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