I woke up this morning feeling rather good.  Ready to take on the day, ready to face the challenges of life.  Then I remembered it was Independence Day, and went back to sleep.  For those of you unfamiliar with this journal, please cast your eyes to the left and look for the link that says "Fourth of July Horror".  Read that, and you will understand my actions.  Fear not, I am as patriotic as Uncle Sam himself.  I just have dignity, that's all.

So my mother and father invited my grandparents over for the day.  Eat, shoot the breeze, sit by the pool.  Yeah, I know.  I cringed too.  A few hours before arriving, my Grandma calls my mom. 

"Do you need any suitcases, maybe a cooler?"  I don't have to be on the other end to know it's her.  The look on Mom's face gives it away every time. 

"No, Ma.  Just bring yourselves over.  We don't need anything."  Especially not Suitcases.  My grandmother is a nice lady, but I've come to realize that when she brings things over, it's not so much a loving gesture, as it is a spring-cleaning day.  Apparently, we are Grandma's answer to Goodwill or AmVets.  I'm STILL trying to figure out where a suitcase comes into play during the 4th of July festivities.

After hanging up, Mother looks at me.

"Do you have a bathing suit for your grandmother?"

"Yeah sure, no problem."  I start off toward the bedroom, before stopping halfway and turning to look at the innocent face of my mom.

"Um, Grandma doesn't know how to swim, Mom." 

"She floats."  Oh, of course!  How silly of me.

1:30: there's a knock on the door.  I open it to see my grandfather carrying a covered pot filled with Gandules and Rice.  Just behind him, my grandmother- a big grin on her face, and a red blouse in hand for me.  And a housecoat in the other for my mom.  Smart lady- she couldn't pawn off the suitcases, but she sure could unpack the contents and sneak them in.  I feel so one-upped.

We say our hello's and exchange hugs and kisses- where are the kiddies?  *Looks out 12 ft window overlooking the pool full of children* Are they swimming?

No, Grandma- they are actually performing a religious ritual of spiritual rebirth by randomly dunking their bikini-clad bodies under thousands of gallons of chlorinated water.

Of course they're swimming!!

While Grandma goes in the bathroom to change into her hip and youthful swim attire, Mom goes outside to warn the kids about the newest addition to the pool.

"Remember, she doesn't swim, so don't go too near her.  And she shouldn't ever be left alone in the pool, in case she should slip or something.  Don't make loud noises, you could startle her.  And most importantly, she does not like to get her face wet at all, so no splashing or jumping in."

Over the course of an hour, we all stood in the water with Grandma and just watched each other. 

It would have made more sense to have her stand in the grass while we took turns hosing her off. 

I can see it now: "Jess, it's your turn to hose Grandma!"

---------

After our swim (and I use the term loosely), it was time for lunch and a rousing conversation with Grandpa that covered everything from the storyline of Beverly Hills Cop  to the bunyan on his left foot. 

"It's pretty big, I have to have an extra wide shoe just to accommodate it!!"  Even more disturbing than the information, is the lilting sense of pride in his voice, almost the way a gardener speaks of her prized azaleas.  It was as if he grew it or something.

"More potato salad, Grandpa?"  Oh yeah, it's time to change the direction of this conversation.

"No thanks- I have to watch my mayonnaise intake, it repeats on me."  I cannot tell you the number of lifetimes I could have endured without ever knowing that.

Slowly but surely, night falls.  Night falls, my grandparents leave (I almost died of shock when they stuck around post-bingo hour) and it was time to play the fireworks game.

Now for the first time in what has to be my whole life, I can actually say that my father's display of pyrotechnics could have been worse.  We finally used the last of the original supply, and actually bought some new bottle rockets this year.  And a few sparklers too.  And a Roman Candle!!  Wow, Dad- you're really getting the hang of it, now.

Naturally, as soon as I say this, one of the bottle rockets takes off in the general direction of my car, narrowly missing the rear left tire.

It was rather calming to know things weren't entirely different.

The sparklers- now here's some interesting facts about these things.  If you buy colored sparklers, they don't actually sparkle... they kind of just burn as a glowing red or green ball before dying out and burning your knuckles.  Oh, and they make this smoke that looks incredibly consistent with that of pot.
 
Little One's lighting sparkler after sparkler and dancing around the smokey driveway in a crazed manner. 

"These things are *cough* so great dad *cough* we have the best fireworks!!"  *cough, sputter, gag*

Ok wait- anyone who says that is not in their right mind-  what in hell are in these things?!

At least it explains why the routine 4th-of-July police cars kept slowing down in front of my house.

*sigh*

------------------
Ahhh, 4th of July.  It's quite amazing, no?  Well, actually... no. 

I always wonder about how far Floridians are willing to go to circumvent the State of Florida's ban on "real" fireworks. You know, the kind that most of us grew up with . . firecrackers, bottle rockets, cherry bombs, the "big" rockets, and your everyday standard "M 80" (rumoured to be a quarter stick of dynamite. I highly doubt it, but M 80's are powerful enough to get away with claiming it to be true as you light the fuse, ,listen as the ear spitting blast echoes through the neighborhood, then say . . .see? . .I TOLD you!).

These days, anything more powerful than a sparkler, or smoke bomb is considered contraband. If you toe the line and only buy what's legal, you'll find yourself wishing for the good 'ol days when you could shake the foundations of neighbor's houses, and run the risk of going blind, or losing a digit or two.

WE have done it both ways, and I for one will forever more risk the long arm of the law, and buy my "real" fireworks in Georgia or South Carolina, then transport them over the state line, becoming an outlaw in the process. BUT . . in doing so *smile* I'll never again run the risk of disapointing anyone with a run-of-the mill display of pyrotechnics. ;) Happy Fourth! ;)

Hmmmm . . .speaking of fireworks, looks like we have a couple of tropical systems churning south of us. Dennis has an onimous projected track, right over Key West? :-(

HI Ms. L!!! Glad to see you back here blogging!! geez, its been awhile. Anyways, hope you had a good weekend and Have a great rest of the week

Again a fine read! "Jess, its your turn to hose Gramma!" Thanks for stoppin in and have a GREAT ONE!

OH the Logical One has returned, and may be even better than before!!!

Hmmmmm . . .awaiting the 5:00 update on Dennis with Great trepidation. We have so so fortunate for so long on this little island, I know that we are long overdue for the "big one". The only good thing about this storm is that our one road out of here takes us out at the perfect angle, 90 degrees from the heading of the storm. :-(

DAng-it! . I did it again!

Still waiting for the 5 pm update on hurricane Dennis. While I'm waiting, I might as well share a fourth of July Story from a few years ago.

On Lake Tsala Apopka my parents have a neat little get away on a small lagoon which connects into the larger lake. My older brother, and my younger brother, decided to light off our rather potent collection of illegal fireworks from a little 10 ft fiberglass jonboat. So, off they go, into the middle of the lagoon, watching for the ubiquitous snakes and alligators as they paddles along. Reaching the center of the cozy little one acre lagoon, they proceeded to light off an impressive assortment of rockets and bombs. We all cheered, of course, as each burst lit up the still night air.

About 5 minutes inot the display, my younger brother happens to look down into the paper grocery bag that contained the mostly un-exploded ordinance, and noticed that it was glowing. A spark had apparently found its way into the bag, and they both knew it was a matter of seconds before world war three erupted.

Sure enough, the bag came alive with enumerable bangs, whistles and explosions. Horrified, my two brothers attempted to get as far away from the flaming disaster as possible, and went to the stern of the boat. However, their combined weight lifted the bow out of the water, and caused the fiercely exploding bag to roll down towards them. At this point my younger brother firgured he'd rather take his chances with the alligators and snakes than surely be blown to bits, and jumped overboard, screaming the entire way. At this point the extra weight going over the stern allowed the bow to settle back into the water . .and the adventure sputtered to an end.

I can tell you this . .those of us on shore never laughed so hard in our lives . . :) OOOps . .here's the update! bye Jess!

After finishing reading this glorious post which really made me laugh I JUST have to read the horror story .
It's great to have you back here

Mornin! Steve was unceremoniously let go by Bravenet about 5 -6 months ago. The reasons are still a mystery. I've had a few e-mails from him since; hes moved back here to Cowtown looking for work and hopefully we are going to get together for coffee soon. Jan took up where he left off in an un-official manner and created THE BLOGGERS BLOG - which you can find here ----> http://thebloggersblog.bravejournal.com/ She saved all of Steves hard work and put it into her own journal. Go take a look and I'll keep you updated on the Steve situation! Have a GREAT WEEKEND!