Thursday

AGAIN. Enough said.

How are my tomatoes supposed to get big and beautiful and juicy and red if they don't ever see the sun???

Cool sign on a local church: America: land of the free because of the brave.

The Fourth is coming fast -- and everyone around here is worrying whether it'll be dry long enough for the fireworks celebrations. I haven't bought fireworks in more years than I can recall -- since the kiddo was little, I'm sure -- but I'm going to pick some up this year. My niece is in Central America, doing this missions thing for the third year in a row, and she'd wanted some. Her parents will probably remember, but thought I'd get some, too, just in case. She's an amazing kid -- goes to school, makes good grades, works, does tons of volunteer stuff at her church, does these missions trips in the summer, makes a special effort to look after my other sister and her husband and our mother, and still has energy to spare. Wish I could borrow some of it!

Her older sister is great, too. She's married, has a young stepson whom we all adore, and is a neonatal intensive care nurse. Trust me, she's got some stories to tell. I admire people who work with sick kids in general, but particularly with kids who aren't going to make it. I couldn't do it, but I'm grateful as hell that people like Lauren can.

Back to the Fourth . . . Mom's family gets together at my uncle's house for burgers and other great food, and they all contribute fireworks that the kids set off once it's good and dark by the pond. Robert and I usually go for the food, but leave before the fireworks. We live at the top of a big hill -- gee, haven't mentioned that before, have I? -- so we have an excellent view of the fireworks in Sapulpa, at Tulsa's Riverparks, in Bixby (I think), and (in the past) at Bell's Amusement Park in Tulsa.

Bell's has been around forever, it seems, but they're packing it up as I type. They lost their lease at the fairgrounds. Going to the state fair won't be the same without a stop to ride Zingo, the big roller coaster. I remember going when I was pregnant with the kiddo, and being so disappointed because Robert wouldn't let me ride. (Wonder if that has something to do with why the kiddo has never, ever liked roller coasters -- or, really, rides of any kind? But he thinks going a hundred and fifty on the Ducati with his hair on fire is fun. Go figure.)

Ah, another tangent. Back to the Fourth again . . . Robert prefers to watch the various city displays from our hilltop. One time we took two cars so I could wander home when I was ready. The only reasonable way from my uncle's house to mine goes past the Sapulpa fireworks display, and honest to God, people were stopped right in the middle of the highway watching it. It took me more than an hour to go maybe seven miles. Sure, I had a great view of the fireworks. In my truck. All alone. Hot hot hot, and needing to pee really badly. No freakin' fun at all.

Don't know what I'll do this year -- go home early and miss out on the traffic and the fun of spending more time with the family or stay and miss out on the oohs and ahhs of the professional displays. Of course, if it doesn't stop raining, it doesn't much matter, does it?

Wishing, hoping and dreaming for a little dry spell . . .