Today at Easter brunch someone asked when Chloe and I were going to be home. "July 22." As the wheels in his head began spinning faster, Steve asked, "And when are you leaving?" June 28. "So you won't be here for the Fourth of July?" Nope. Wheels in fourth gear now: "So that means it's just Christopher and me home alone? On the Fourth of July?" Um, yep. "Well then, this changes everything!"
After Christopher got home today Steve gave him the good news that Mom wouldn't be around to rain on the fireworks-making parade. I'm all for a good show but am not especially thrilled with explosive devices. Then I told Christopher that my aunt's memorial service is going to be Memorial Day weekend in Montana. Christopher and I are planning to go, but Memorial Day weekend might pose a few scheduling conflicts. But Steve pointed out that a good part of Montana is an Indian reservation that is likely to have assorted festive explosive devices for sale in anticipation of our country's celebration of its independence. That we live about an hour away from numerous Indian reservations matters not - it just seems like Montana would have a better selection. I don't intend to answer any calls from America on July 4: I'd rather hear about it after the finger has been reattached.
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