We didn't see any fireworks this weekend.
I feel pretty bad about it. When the kids were young, we used to take them every 4th of July. We brought a cooler and lawn chairs and junk food and we sat in the back of our pick up truck to watch.
And before I moved to Texas, it was watching fireworks on my parent's boat on the lake. Every summer since I was 16.
But this year? Nothing. As I type this, I can hear fireworks popping outside. And not just from the trailer park across the street. It's a big show going on somewhere. I can even see them from our backyard, just over the tops of the trees. Close enough for us to get to and be all American and shit.
But instead of doing that, we are sitting inside watching Hoarders and Pawn Stars.
It's just so blasted hot outside, y'all. No, not hot. SWELTERING. I mean, it was 101 degrees right before the sun went down. It's a mind melting inferno here.
Fuck, I hate summer in Texas.
I hope Lady Liberty can forgive me for not sitting outside, sweating in the dark and asking Captain Carl how anyone can possibly like living here because ohmygodseriouslythisisridiculous.
Holy shit. I just realized I have only had one drink all weekend. ONE DRINK. That's a crime, right there. I'm gonna get deported out of this state if the authorities find out because I'm pretty sure it's a felony if you don't wake up with at least one hangover during the 4th of July weekend.
I promise to do better next year, y'all.
UPDATE: Captain Carl just told me he ate possum once. This has nothing to do with the 4th of July. I just wanted to tell you because seriously, who am I married to?
On Becoming My Grandmother
4 months ago