Ten Little Chances to be Free (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tenlittlebullets) wrote2005-07-06 02:14 am
tenlittlebullets) wrote2005-07-06 02:14 am
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First: OMGWTF skip?=585. Christ on a cracker, I leave for four or five days and THIS is what I come back to?
Second: When we left for my grandparents' house, we were under the impression that Pennsylvania, like most of the Northeast, had absurdly draconian fireworks laws and we wouldn't be able to buy anything but sparklers and firecrackers. We have been under this impression for the past twenty years or so, but this time my brother and I talked dad into stopping at a fireworks shop along Rt 81. And oh lordy were we wrong about the fireworks laws. We walked away from that shop with a mortar kit and as many rockets, Roman candles, and various other pyrotechnics as we could carry. The mortar kit was a wonderful success, although I burned the hell out of my right hand because the fuses go off with a flame like a propane torch. The Roman candles and most of the rockets were pretty wimpy as fireworks go, but we had fun setting off six or seven bottle rockets at the same time, or combining the Roman candles with firecrackers for better effect.
And I think my grandparents' little summer cottage is the closest place there is to paradise, on this coast at least. It's way up in the mountains of northern Pennsylvania, near Scranton and way up by the New York line, and it's in the middle of nowhere and right on the edge of a lake--not a gigantic lake, but not tiny, very clean, very deep water, with about a third of the shoreline made up of a pine forest and the rest scattered with houses and docks. My dad's side of the family get together there every Independence Day weekend, so there are always lots of cousins, canoes, swimming, sailing, windsurfing and the like. Maybe it's just because it's part of my childhood, but I really love it up there. A thousand little things--the canoes my grandfather built himself, playing skittles in the basement, that old set of stone blocks that's been in the family at least three or four generations and still gets played with no matter how old we get, ruthless double-solitaire matches. Yeah. I like my dad's side of the family. Despite all the activity everyone manages to cram in, people still look at you funny if you don't spend half your spare time curled up in a chair reading--there must be a bookworm gene in this family or something.
Let's see. I think I'm going to go to camp again this summer--kind of a last-minute decision, but I've been going there so long that we know the people there and I can probably get a spot if they've got any free. It will be weird, going to a place with so many rules after I've been in college for a year, but I figure I need some discipline and anyway, I'm signing up for the drama program and any excuse to sing five days a week is fine by me. And a week from today I'll be in London, which is rather strange to say the least. We were rushing around today getting the passports done at the last minute.
I was about to say my brain feels like it has a loose wire somewhere, but that's probably because it's quarter after two and I've been up since five-thirty yesterday morning. Ah well. G'night.
Second: When we left for my grandparents' house, we were under the impression that Pennsylvania, like most of the Northeast, had absurdly draconian fireworks laws and we wouldn't be able to buy anything but sparklers and firecrackers. We have been under this impression for the past twenty years or so, but this time my brother and I talked dad into stopping at a fireworks shop along Rt 81. And oh lordy were we wrong about the fireworks laws. We walked away from that shop with a mortar kit and as many rockets, Roman candles, and various other pyrotechnics as we could carry. The mortar kit was a wonderful success, although I burned the hell out of my right hand because the fuses go off with a flame like a propane torch. The Roman candles and most of the rockets were pretty wimpy as fireworks go, but we had fun setting off six or seven bottle rockets at the same time, or combining the Roman candles with firecrackers for better effect.
And I think my grandparents' little summer cottage is the closest place there is to paradise, on this coast at least. It's way up in the mountains of northern Pennsylvania, near Scranton and way up by the New York line, and it's in the middle of nowhere and right on the edge of a lake--not a gigantic lake, but not tiny, very clean, very deep water, with about a third of the shoreline made up of a pine forest and the rest scattered with houses and docks. My dad's side of the family get together there every Independence Day weekend, so there are always lots of cousins, canoes, swimming, sailing, windsurfing and the like. Maybe it's just because it's part of my childhood, but I really love it up there. A thousand little things--the canoes my grandfather built himself, playing skittles in the basement, that old set of stone blocks that's been in the family at least three or four generations and still gets played with no matter how old we get, ruthless double-solitaire matches. Yeah. I like my dad's side of the family. Despite all the activity everyone manages to cram in, people still look at you funny if you don't spend half your spare time curled up in a chair reading--there must be a bookworm gene in this family or something.
Let's see. I think I'm going to go to camp again this summer--kind of a last-minute decision, but I've been going there so long that we know the people there and I can probably get a spot if they've got any free. It will be weird, going to a place with so many rules after I've been in college for a year, but I figure I need some discipline and anyway, I'm signing up for the drama program and any excuse to sing five days a week is fine by me. And a week from today I'll be in London, which is rather strange to say the least. We were rushing around today getting the passports done at the last minute.
I was about to say my brain feels like it has a loose wire somewhere, but that's probably because it's quarter after two and I've been up since five-thirty yesterday morning. Ah well. G'night.
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Maybe I'll spot you ;)
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