flewellyn | Wheee! BOOM! And other such exclamations.

Well, yesterday's celebrations were...suitably celebratory. I had a good barbecue at the social club, with lots of good food including some things that I helped make, and then helped my neighbors with their Annual Fourth of July Parking Lot Pyrotechnics.

My neighbors are very very fond of their fireworks, you see; every year they will buy large amounts of firecrackers, sparklers, fountains, bottle rockets, Roman candles, fireball launchers, shells, heavy rockets, and various other explosive devices. I helped my new neighbor, a young mother named Amber, set off her $200 worth of explosives, which included four very massive rockets that were mounted on inch-thick dowling and made a VERY big boom.

In short, it was the traditional American celebration of our Independence Day: giving small children access to dangerous explosives! Fun for the whole family, except for those members under the age of four, who generally spent the time crying in distress. Still, the older kids had fun, even if there were several times that I thought they were going to blow themselves or someone else up. These children, of course, thought they were indestructible, so they lit things off with carefree disregard for the dangers involved.

Ironically, the only thing approaching an injury happened to an adult, namely Amber, when a small bottle rocket launched by some tyke down the street landed in her hair and then detonated. She said it didn't hurt, but her ears rang for five minutes.

As I said to the little children gathered around us, while gesturing towards the city fireworks a few blocks away, "Remember, kids: they're trained professionals. WE'RE just trying this at home!"