Cotton Candy

I think this picture

[Photo]
pretty much sums up the 4th for all of us. That strawberry soda stained smile just speaks of the joy of a summer holiday spent eating good food, playing outside and topping it all off with a fireworks show. It was as hot and sultry outdoors as we waited for it to get dark enough to pull out the sparklers, the bottle rockets, the Roman candles, and things that made a loud "boom!" and sent shards of color into the night sky. The mosquitoes were out too of course and we all came inside with an itchy bump or two. All the while the fireworks were blazing, the fireflies flickered and showed off their own little glow.

Like most people, we pretty much always eat the same things, and drink the same things every year. And later, as we sit ruminating over our full tummies, someone usually starts to snigger, giggle, and then all out guffaw as they remember the year that I was the star of the fireworks show at our house.

We've always lived in the country and in years past when we all had young children, everyone bought their share of the fireworks and converged on our place for the big show. This particular year was no different. Our kids, all girls, were pretty young and a little afraid of the boom and flame so they had all packed themselves inside our car to watch the show from a safe distance. My husband and I stood beside the car while the other guys took care of the lighting of fuses.

It was all going well until someone lit a whistling chaser. I was at least 60 feet away from the thing when suddenly, with a shrill scream, it made a bee-line for me! It landed at my feet so quickly that I didn't have time to react. If it was moving at the speed of light, I was definitly in slow motion in comparison. But it wasn't finished with me, no siree. Suddenly, it went straight up the full skirt of my sundress! I was no longer in slow motion. At a distance a whistling chaser has an unpleasant scream, when it is traveling up your leg it sounds like a demon. It's demonic scream coupled with my pyrotechnically induced dance of frenzy had everyone spellbound. Every few seconds that horride piece of gunpowder packed cardboard would produce sparks as it screached its way further up my leg. I was twirling, jumping, screaming, trying to run, and get the thing off of me all at the same time. Finally, my husband came out of his frozen state of horrible fascination to come to my rescue. He mangaed to catch me and at the same time wrap the skirt of my dress around the cardboard tube and just hold on for dear life as it came to its grand fianale. Three very loud pops, each accompanied by a jump and scream from me marked the end of the show. There was a total horrified silence for about 30 seconds and suddenly my audience burst into uncontrollable laughter. Slightly affronted by this reaction, it took me about another 20 seconds to join in the fun. In hindsight it truly was very funny. But only in hindsight.

I thought only my own family would remember this incident but alas, no. It seems my reputation as the hot little July number will always be with me. We've moved far away from the original show and never see our old friends anymore. But a few years, I was talking on the phone with one of them and she said, "You know what my husband always talks about if your name comes up in conversation?" I couldn't imagine and said so. She answered, "You remember that 4th of July when the firecracker went up your dress? That is what he remembers and laughs his head off." Oh well, as least I left'em laughin'.[Photo] draft 8:13:00 PM by Lovie Delete
Edit Grrr....