It was a 4th of July for the books, if I do say so myself.
CB played golf.
Luke studied then had a friend come for the night.
I read, napped, rinse, repeat.
Momma and her cousin came for dinner and fireworks. We had an all American meal: hot dogs, potato salad, baked beans, cucumber and onions, and corn on the cob. What could be better?
Momma and Nola decided they wanted to go to the ball fields to see the fireworks. For the last several years we've watched the show from our driveway but by doing so, we missed the ground works which we've been told are spectacular.
Because half a million (or thereabouts) people will be at the ball fields as well, we had a plan. Luke and his buddy would get Uncle Jay's golf cart and take Momma to the show. CB would tote Nola then come back to the house and get me.
The plan worked perfectly and we were all there for 35 minutes of the most glorious fireworks ever shot off in the history of the universe. What made it even better is that one of my physical therapists is on the pyro crew responsible for shooting off the fireworks. It was almost as if I were doing it myself. Almost.
Here you go:
What you can't tell from this picture is that there are 4 or 5 international people all filming the fireworks show. They weren't really watching it, just holding their phones up filming the entire thing. I thought it was hilarious.
We agreed that being at the ball diamonds with the multitudes is the place to be when the sky explodes.
