Well, I called the cops today. Not 911, just the police station. See, we just bought a house in a neighborhood in the city limits and the neighborhood kids have been shooting off firecrackers for days.

And we ain’t talking about little sparklers or pop pop pop thingies. We’re talking big boom boom sparkle stuff.

The other night we were about to let the girls ride their bikes at 6:30 p.m. when they got started and spent firecrackers began hitting the ground in front of us. Like — zoom up in the air, boomboom scare the kiddies, and debris falling from the sky.

Peanut is terrified. It’s good she’s in diapers because every time she hears one of these “irekakkers” she wets her pants.

Got a lake house? Live in the country? Or, in the city limits but you’ve got a big lot? Dude… whatever. Shoot them off. Just don’t hurt yourself. But, if you’re shooting them off this close to my house and filling my yard with your crap…. nope. I will be that cranky lady that reports you.


No, we haven’t made many friends here yet. Why do you ask?

Anyway, cranky lady stuff aside, this reminds me of the summer I spent in Washington State. I worked with a teeny tiny church up there doing their children’s & youth programs for the summer. And when I say teeny and tiny — the church was a double-wide. The pulpit was in the kitchen, the piano was where the table should go, and the congregation sat in the living room. For real. I’d play the piano & look up to see the stove & the sink. A preacher didn’t need to keep a glass of water on the pulpit. They could just take a step over to the fridge.

This little town with the bitty church was big on one thing — July 4th. They started with fireworks a month in advance. No exaggeration. But, on the 4th the entire town took to their yards. The family I was staying with had a 5, 7, and 8 year old, plus their mom & dad. We shot off several hundred dollars worth of firecrackers in their front yard. The 8 year old got a little impatient and actually shot one through his mom’s bangs. They caught on fire. I had to whack her on the head and beat out the embers. That was awkward.

Next door, behind us, around the corner, across the street…. literally everyone was shooting off fireworks. The big boom boom shizzle kind, too. I sat there watching & laughing & remembering all of the “NEVER PLAY WITH FIRECRACKERS” lessons I learned as a child. (I think my mom just didn’t want me to set her bangs on fire. Or whack her on the head a few times.)

It was a very good thing we were in the very rainy state of Washington. Otherwise all of the homes would have caught on fire that night.

I do hope you all had a fabulous 4th! And, I hope you didn’t have to play cranky neighbor lady or burned bangs lady this year. Not a fun way to celebrate…