Happy Fourth

The fourth of July is happy, I appreciate our freedom, no doubt. I do not appreciate fireworks, however. I have never ever liked them. Ever.

When I was a kid (3, 4, 5 years old) my great-grandma lived on the lake. The same lake that the city did the fireworks show from. My parents would load my sister and I up in the car and we'd meet my uncles (no aunts, my dad's side of the family has serious marital issues) and cousins out there and tailgate it up. It was all fun until someone decided to do bottle rockets or sparklers before the real show. That was my cue to hop in the backseat, cover up my entire body (head and all) with a blanket, and not come out until we went home.

That's right, I don't even do sparklers. Pardon me, but what's so fun about having a FLAMING STICK SHOOTING LITTLE BITS OF HOT GOD KNOWS WHAT EVERYWHERE? That's right, nothing.

I do feel like a baby about it. Because when your seven year old cousin eagerly grabs a sparkler and is waving it around and you're standing no less than ten feet away saying, "Keep that over there, please. Do not come near me with that. DO NOT COME NEAR ME WITH THAT SPARKLER," you feel like a baby.

But it's ok. I only have a few real fears: snakes and fireworks. I mean, I'm scared of car wrecks, plane crashes, and dying but seriously? Fireworks and snakes trump all of those.

I hope everyone has a safe and happy Fourth of July weekend! (And to my Canadian readers, if there are any, I wish you a happy late Canada day!)