The third of July is a much bigger holiday for us than the fourth of July. It started with the block parties in our old neighborhood. When we moved to our present house, we discovered that our dead-end street was a perfect place to blow up things, and so we decided to host a fireworks party on the third of July. It has taken on a life of its own, and our friends plan their holiday around it. This year we had a total of 47 people at our house! This photo shows the young women.
My pyromaniac husband had a "blast" (pun intended) shooting off things with the young men.
When I say everyone came, I mean EVERYONE! We even invited Kent, our favorite grocery clerk, AND HE CAME! He always makes my day when I ask him how he is and he replies: "Magnificently marvelous and elevating to higher plateaus of euphoria at warp speed."
Some of the guests were happy to stay inside, away from the noise and mosquitoes.
The young men set to work blowing up things, while the rest of us watched.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment