Independence from fireworks equals happiness

     I'll have to admit, I don't miss the Fourths of July of my youth - or my kids' youth, for that matter.  Frankly, we're all damn lucky to still have our digits and limbs. Especially my father, who used to put on a driveway display of pyrotechnics when we were little and, inevitably, fall down as he was running away from a lit fountain or cone. "DAD!  Get up! Fire in the hole!" we'd cry, in fits of nervous hysteria. (That's the point when my mother would go inside.) These days, the hubs and I are content to meet up with friends at the city's "Party in the Park" and watch the Jaycees-provided fireworks (provided we can stay up that late) from afar.  We may still buy firecrackers from a tent on the edge of town, but we'll save those for the next basketball championship.
    Happy Independence Day, everyone!