Fireworks Frenzy

I spent the 4th of July as I always do. In the morning I arrived at my grandparents' house and proceeded to bicker with my dad about what still needed to be done. My boyfriend retreated to a corner with his book and tried to ignore my loving yet lunatic family. Around noon, a couple of my cousins came over to hang out and ignore the heat and all the setting up that still needed to be done. After they left, I remembered that people would be arriving in mere hours and returned to pestering my dad to work faster. When he finished the things he promised my mom he'd do, we jumped in his truck to go buy fireworks.

To buy the rest of the fireworks, that is. We already had a couple hundred dollars' worth, left over from last year and brought back from various trips, but it's a tradition that we buy new fireworks on the 4th every year. Also, another one of my cousins was on a softball team that was running one of the stands; we had to go support them. So we drove around town for an hour and a half, stopping at three fireworks stands, the bank, a liquor store, and a grocery store.

When we returned it was really crunch time. My dad went to set up the barbecue, and I rousted my long-suffering boyfriend out of his peaceful corner to help me sort and put up the three boxes of red white and blue decorations. He's used to the insanity that overtakes me on the 4th (did I mention the red-white-and-blue bejeweled tiara I wore all day to top off my firework-patterned sundress?), so he was accepting if not enthusiastic. Bunting and paper bells and pinwheel garlands on the porch, bows on stakes in the garden, a miniature flag for one of the gnomes. Banners around the portable canopy, patriotic tablecloths, star-spray centerpieces, flag-patterned plates and napkins. An hour later, the house was festooned in decorations and I was covered in sweat, shoving all the extra crap into a box in the guest room. My mom and grandma had put out tasty snacks, and (miracle of miracles) my perpetually late friend arrived early, ahead of all the other guests.

Soon, everyone had arrived, and I snuck out with a friend to obtain the traditional surprise finale firework. (Every year, I run out without my dad to buy one big-ass firework, which I then hide until just before the end. Then I present it to him and he lights the finale. He knows I'm doing it, of course, but, like gifts labeled "Santa" in my dad's handwriting, we pretend it's a mystery.) When we got back the delicious food was ready, and everyone stuffed themselves on hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, corn on the cob, green salad, chips and dip, and cheesecake bars. My dad made strawberry daiquiris and I whipped up my lemonade punch (4 ingredients - three are alcohol and one is lemonade). After dinner, I left everyone chatting and slipped inside to prep all the fuses before it got dark.

Then, finally, it was showtime. We started with the traditional round of sparklers. We were lucky enough to have some of the old, no longer sold, metal sparklers left, as well as the new "safer" variety. Interestingly, the metal ones proved not only prettier but also less dangerous than the new ones, as they were more predictable and went out promptly when their sparks were used up, rather than smoldering ominously. "Safe and sane" my butt! Then we lit the Friendship Pagoda, which we keep as a souvenir all year. After that it was a free-for-all. Pink Diamonds, Killer Bees, Crackling Cactus, Purple Rain, The Sizzler, Pharaoh's Treasure, Monster Parade. My friend busied herself braiding long thin fireworks called Crack the Whip and filling the interstices with Ground Blooms and Crazy Eyeballs. Her husband threw Jumping Jacks until one whizzed past my ear and I noticed. I explained that only COMPLETE MORONS throw lit fireworks, and he stopped. For a while.

I ran in and out of the house, fetching new fireworks and marshaling people to light them. I missed some and watched others. I danced in the middle of the street holding a 3-foot giant sparkler in each hand. Throughout, I worried about whether everyone else was having enough fun even as I enjoyed myself. And then it was time for the finale. I retrieved the final firework - a half-kilogram monstrosity called 3 Ring Circus - and presented it to my dad. I looked at the audience gathered in lawn chairs on the lawn. Miraculously, a seat was open in the very center of the front row. I dropped into it and watched the finale live up to its name.

And for about two minutes I ceased to worry about anything.

I love the 4th of July.