The British Invasion, or my 'first' 4th of July

July 6-

This was my first fourth of July living in America. Well, not really, but as you know by now Miami is sort of an extension of Cuba. We like fireworks over there, but not to the extent and obsession of my Kansas neighbors.

Over here, it seems that people have been using fireworks since Valentine's Day. A couple of nights ago I woke up terrified to the sound of what sounded like a cannon. "The British are coming!" was my first thought. But I quickly realized that my neighbors decided to defy the authorities and set off fireworks well past midnight.

My mom was also here for the 4th, so she also had a glimpse of the fireworks obsession. Almost every time she heard a loud explosion she asked, "What is that?" or "Are those shots?"

While I can't say for sure that no one pointed their guns to the air and let a couple of bullets test gravity, I assured her that it was only fireworks. But I wasn't going to let my neighbors have all the fun. Earlier in the day, Elena and I bought some fireworks off some tent with a giant balloon-gorilla on it. I know, the previous sentence sounds like the premise for a bad horror movie, but it's the truth. However, after I got going, the fireworks became addicting and soon my supply was dwindling. My sister in law, Rebekah, drove me to another tent in Gage, called Big Daddy, where I bought some more fireworks. I then realized that I became as obsessed with setting things on fire as my law-defiant neighbors.

My wonderful and creative wife came up with this:

Well, I chose the word "love," but this was her experiment with the camera/shutter speed, etc. It turned out great, didn't it?

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