How I Spent My 4th
I've actually gotten to do some pretty cool things for the 4th of July in the past.
When I was in younger, it mostly meant marching band and fireworks. Our house is within a couple of miles of five or six fireworks stores -- the real ones, the warehouses full of explosives, as opposed to the tents. My siblings and I would save up for weeks so we could blow it all on firecrackers and artillery shells. Then, much to my mother's chagrin, we spent hours ... and hours ... and hours finding things to blow up.
With college the fun stuff started. I've spent three 4ths (?) at Mount Rushmore, before they stopped doing the fireworks displays. (I'm hoping that's only temporary ... Stupid pine beetles. It truly was one of the best shows on earth.) One year, I joined the boys in Colorado Springs and we hung out in Breckenridge for the day. When Mia Sorella was on her way to Korea, the 'rents came to Wisconsin to visit and we headed for Door County.
And one year I was in Russia.
What I'm trying to say is ... since I've reached adulthood, the 4th has been my road trip holiday. Until this year, that is.
This year, everyone else left and I had the house to myself. I headed out for an early morning run with the kayak. I caught a parade. And then, due to both the heat (eesh) and a change in someone else's plans, I stayed home and relaxed.
And grilled.
The firecrackers had started at noon. By nine, even though it wasn't really dark yet, people couldn't seem to help themselves. The real fireworks started.
Eventually, I climbed up on our roof to see what I could see.
There were no less than 15 home-grown fireworks display within view of our house ... as soon as I was above the trees, that is.
And I did eventually pull out my camera to experiment a bit.
Aside from the mosquitos, it was a fantastic night.
Not bad for a non-road-trip holiday.
When I was in younger, it mostly meant marching band and fireworks. Our house is within a couple of miles of five or six fireworks stores -- the real ones, the warehouses full of explosives, as opposed to the tents. My siblings and I would save up for weeks so we could blow it all on firecrackers and artillery shells. Then, much to my mother's chagrin, we spent hours ... and hours ... and hours finding things to blow up.
With college the fun stuff started. I've spent three 4ths (?) at Mount Rushmore, before they stopped doing the fireworks displays. (I'm hoping that's only temporary ... Stupid pine beetles. It truly was one of the best shows on earth.) One year, I joined the boys in Colorado Springs and we hung out in Breckenridge for the day. When Mia Sorella was on her way to Korea, the 'rents came to Wisconsin to visit and we headed for Door County.
And one year I was in Russia.
What I'm trying to say is ... since I've reached adulthood, the 4th has been my road trip holiday. Until this year, that is.
This year, everyone else left and I had the house to myself. I headed out for an early morning run with the kayak. I caught a parade. And then, due to both the heat (eesh) and a change in someone else's plans, I stayed home and relaxed.
And grilled.
The firecrackers had started at noon. By nine, even though it wasn't really dark yet, people couldn't seem to help themselves. The real fireworks started.
Eventually, I climbed up on our roof to see what I could see.
There were no less than 15 home-grown fireworks display within view of our house ... as soon as I was above the trees, that is.
And I did eventually pull out my camera to experiment a bit.
Aside from the mosquitos, it was a fantastic night.
Not bad for a non-road-trip holiday.
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