I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy?

Being the patriotic soul that I am, I am not ashamed to confess that I love the Fourth of July. I have always loved this particular holiday, largely because I am a pyro. I could not help but become such because it is in my genes. My dad taught me the way of the pyromaniac since I was a wee babe. I remember him trying to get a whole package of fireworks to go off at the same time by lighting the box on fire. He used to gather up all the sawdust that the snaps were packaged in with the other trash that was left over after nights of revelry and start a little driveway bonfire. So, to this day I continue to adore this holiday celebrating the birth of our great country, though since we have moved to Texas, a lot has changed. For example, the buying of fireworks is quite a bit different than back in the good old days. In Omaha, there was pretty much one long stretch of road where companies would come and set up big carnival tents and fill them with fireworks. Down here, there are little trailers selling fireworks on just about every corner around Independence Day. Then there are also a couple of warehouse stores run by bands or girl scout troops who are trying to raise money. All of the fireworks are fenced in to keep you from getting near them and the little members of the band walk around to put the fireworks in your cart. You see, in the great state of Texas, one is not allowed to lay one finger on one's fireworks until they are paid for and they people will walk around these warehouses looking for perpetrators to scold. An odd rule, I know, I don't actually understand it either.

All of this to say that, yesterday being this greatest of holidays, my family was looking about for something to do. My mom's co-worker was having a little soiree, and so we decided to drop by. It was by default, really, there was nothing better going on, but my sister was not quite resigned to the idea. She rode all the way there in the backseat with her arms crossed. I must admit, on arriving I was quite disappointed. For being DINKs (yeah, my mom just taught me that, industry term) their backyard was about the size of a postage stamp. The pool was filled to capacity and those who couldn't fit lined the sides sipping drinks and looking bored. What have we gotten ourselves into, I wondered. My mom had been lecturing us on the way over on how to be social, about how if you ask them people will go on for hours about themselves, and isn't it funny how they never ask about you. This had me in a very anti-social mood, not really willing to talk to any of these strange adults. Well, most of the party did turn out to be pretty boring, until I actually, purely by accident, did start talking to some people. I found out that one of the men was the spouse of an international aerobics instructor and so they had traveled all over the world and he was telling me about the countries they had been to. Then I found out that another one of the people there was an amateur magician, and he showed us card tricks and tricks with these little red balls and a light, the kind of tricks that you actually can't figure out how it was done. Basically, I was surrounded by really cool people that I was too stubborn to discover because I was assuming that I already knew everything about them and it was all boring. A great lesson for a great holiday. I just hope I can keep this in mind when I get to Australia...