I just came in from watching the next door neighbors impress the neighborhood with their vast knowledge of explosives and combustibles.  It was really very beautiful, very romantic, very inappropriate for the time...

But oh- then there was my father.  My father.  I can barely contain the laughter and embarrassment even as I type this.  Every year we do the same thing- we watch the same people light off the same gorgeous fireworks, we watch the sky illuminate with the patriotism of America, we watch in unity- we feel proud.  We feel- together.  We are one. 

And every year, there is my father.  As I have dared to mention in the previous entry- we do not purchase fireworks of any kind.  No, it is much more fun to mooch from the street.  Yet we always buy sparklers, and we are content with that.  Now, before I get too sidetracked- let me explain my father.  Every year he watches the efforts of our block- and somewhere in the middle he disappears into the house. 

And that is when the rest of my family holds their breath. 

See- we know that in a matter of moments he will return to the lawn with a soda bottle and the remainder of a 14 year supply of bottle rockets purchased in New York circa 1980. 

It is then that we cringe.  Not one to be outdone, he boasts of the light show he is about to put on display.  We groan in agony- we hide behind the car in the driveway.  We pray that no one is looking.  In his theatrical manner, he sets the bottle at the end of the driveway and warns us all to stand back. 

With a sweeping wave of his hand, and the light from my mother's cigarette- he lights the bottle rocket.  We sit in horror, the little one in anticipation- waiting for it to end.  Or should I say begin?  Puzzled, my father looks at the bottle- wondering in utter consternation, why on earth it didn't light.

Does the thought that the rockets are almost 24 years old cross his mind?  No- and that's why he takes it for a fluke and tries again.  And again... and again...

Until like a beacon of light, the tenth little rocket takes off, squealing and preaching into the night... into a bush- it's all the same, really.  (But that isn't entirely fair.  One time it did go about 5 feet in the air before landing across the street and making a small fire in the empty lot.)

The embarrassment that I feel after this pathetic scenario is tantamount only to the volume of the neighbor's laughter.  This is our annual 4th of July ritual.

But this year we decide to try something new.  My mother announces a plan to roast marshmallows.  I know, you must be thinking of your campfire days in the girl/boy scouts- the fun of toasting that gooey puff of sugar into a flaming ball of charcoal... and I must admit, I was a bit nostalgic at the thought myself. 

"Oooh, Come on now- we're starting the marshmallows!!"  Yippee- anything to take away from the pain of watching my father make an ass of himself on our front lawn.  Yep- this should be good.

So I go into the kitchen, to see my father tinkering with a big cylindrical candle.  Oh, great idea, I think- we'll need some extra light for the fire...  at least- I think this, until I hear my father say:

"Are we doing them outside or inside?"

What do you mean, or inside?  Laughing, I joke "What're you going to toast them on the flame of the candle?"  Haha!  What a card I can be!

Only I'm laughing alone.  I look around in desperation for someone to crack a smile... dear God, no.  No!  We are not actually roasting these things on the candle??

We all go outside on the patio, with the candle, and a lighter... shoot me now- I'm ready for death.

We place our marshmallows on the twigs from the back yard- and hover over the table- sharing nothing but a wick and a dream.  A dream that our marshmallows will at least get a little warm.  At this point, toasting is too much to hope for. 

After a while, the little one gives up and asks if we can just put them in the microwave.

Cheesecake, anyone?

lmfao that's hilarious!! More posts like that!! Bravo!

Hello Ms. Logic, I am related to Jill too, so is Rebekah. Journaling is definitely a family affair for us.

I just read your entry, it made me laugh. You are a great writer.

I have to agree with the previous comments. That was hilarious, and you have quite a way with words. Have you contracted with an publisher yet?

You made my day! Thanks for sharing this, and pointing out this post in your new post!

... it's ... it's like you're the adult and parents are the children.
Are you really 18?
I put you on my friend's list.