Four weeks from right now

I will be getting out of the shower after having scrubbed all the gunpowder residue from my skin. No, I won't have committed a crime or gone to war; I'll have helped launch the better part of a ton of fireworks into the sky for our annual Fourth of July celebration.

If you live in this area, or if you plan to be here that Sunday, drop me a line via the form on the site, and we can probably arrange for you to be at the party. For this particular event, the general rule is, the more, the merrier. It's a potluck affair, so everyone brings something to share, and I provide burgers and hot dogs for all. (Usually, that means standing over a hot cooker for about 75 minutes grilling about a hundred of each.) Dave and Jo host the party, Jo does Herculean work prepping and co-hosting, Dave performs similar labors the next day cleaning up, and many other folks work very hard to pull off what is always a great event.

I find fireworks magical at all times, but watching a fireworks show, as great as that is, is nothing to standing underneath them, having set them off, as they streak into the sky and explode all around you. It's an amazing rush.

As you can tell, I'm already looking forward to it.