I love fireworks.


Other people around me just don't understand my attraction to things that spew sparks and make loud noises. But how could you not like things that blow up?


So, yesterday marked another 4th of July in the big book of Life Holidays. I had a pretty good day, I spent most of the day just hanging out, then I went up to Mt. Angel to watch their fireworks show, which was pretty dang good for such a small community. It was about 45 minutes long. (Yay! 45 minutes of booms!) The place was packed with people sitting on the ground and lighting personal fireworks, and if you squinted just right it looked like a warzone. Bodies littering the ground, big booms of guns and a stinky haze of greyish green smoke everywhere you look.


I love the 4th.


Then I came back, and came over to Robin's and lit some fireworks off with John. I always have a huge stash, so I didn't have to buy any this year, and I even have more left over. Yay. Next year I'm buying some though, because I saw a few I really liked that I don't currently have in my pyro lovers collection.


That strange green cloud followed me home, it was like 'Stephen King's The Mist' but in patriotic colors. I went home at 3 am, and the entire neighborhood in every direction was still covered with this knee high swamp like mist that smelled faintly of sulpher, and in every direction you could see and hear boombs and crackles from other enlightened peoples fireworks.


How could you not like fireworks?


Today the check finally came, so I have to go run around downtown and buy stuff for Sunday, then I have to come back and finish the bookmarks. I can't put it off forever, unless of course I get hit by a car and go flying through some plate glass window and die twitching in a trench.


One can only hope.