Fireworks

When we traveled to North Carolina last week, we had to stop at a fireworks stand or two.  Those big tents that could either be a revival meeting or a pyrotechnics purveyor have started showing up Near Philadelphia in the past few years, but apparently my beloved can't shop there.  It seems that for fireworks to be authentic, they have to be bought south of the Mason-Dixon Line. 

Whatever.

He hasn't always been like this.  We never had fireworks in our yard when we had children at home.  In nearly 40 years, I never had any idea that he was interested in such a thing.  But six or seven years back, we went to Virginia to attend a friend's daughter's wedding, and on the way back, he suddenly swerved the car and stopped at a fireworks place.  I was speechless.  Who knew?

So now it is a tradition:  He sets off fireworks on July 4th, New Years Eve at midnight, and on other random, peculiar occasions.  He's very responsible with them, and has gained popularity with our friends' children and teenagers who come to our annual picnic on Independence Day.

I'm going to be setting off some fireworks of my own soon.  I notice this morning that I'm in the 990s with blog posts, which means that Post One Thousand is not far off!  It should be coming up sometime in the next couple of weeks.  And my intention is to celebrate!