I'm not going to sit and write much, because I'm cleaning and I should keep cleaning, but a tiny bit of background: we had our radio friends over (Phill does the breaks--as radio personality "Sergeant Phill"--on weekends for Sunny 106.1 down here!) and they have a tradition of packing a little toy car full of fireworks each Fourth of July. And then, yes, lighting it. We thoroughly--and safely--enjoyed sharing in the tradition.
Our day was rather testosterone-infused, though, and I'm afraid I feel like going completely estrogenward in response. Spa day, anyone? A little Steel Magnolias and huge bowls of ice cream, followed by a giggly sleepover and makeovers? We decided to do our own "show", rather than go downtown and be unbelievably close to the city's show. (Unbelievably close like ash falling on you, hair catching on fire, etc....at least that's what everyone said it was like in the Sun Bowl. And sometimes fireworks shows have sounds that are particularly jarring to Phill. So we decided a show controlled by ourselves would be easier.) It was a blast! Play on words fully intended. :)
Aerosmith was playing in the background, would you believe it?
(Approaching it with much trepidation after the first lighting provided nothing more than a bit of smoke and sparks.)
And then it worked. Oh boy, did it work.....