The fireworks

My beloved husband, being a guy, likes explosions. In Oregon, we are permitted sparklers and ground flowers, but nothing that makes a good bang or throws sparks more than 6 inches . In Washington, just across the river, you can launch an artillary barrage if you like. Friends with a beach house in Long Beach Washington invited us to spend the holiday with them and DH has been dreaming about this for months. We made a stop at "the largest fireworks warehouse in the country - BlackJack's" The side street leading to the warehouse was lined with people holding promotional signs and handing out flyers. To our surprise, The Bomber Brothers had set up a huge tent in teh vacant lot next to BlackJack's warehouse. It was enteprenurial war! BlackJack's employees had bright orange safety vests. Bomber Brothers had brought in a high school ralley squad to flirt their skirts at prospective customers. BlackJack's had a DJ with monster speakers set up to drown out the cheerleaders with country music. Bomber Brothers had a hot dog and iced soda stand. BlackJack's had 2 for one coupons, and parking on the right side of the road, so we turned in there first. disneyland could not have been more efficiently organized. Parking attendants wavved us into a vacant space and directed us to the front door of the establishment. I didn't have the fortitude to plung into the teeming aisles, though, so I stood outside and observed the happy customers. The first thing I noticed was more tattoos and fewer teeth than common in the general public. The next thing I noticed was that the guys walked away with thier arms heavy laden with flashy-bangs, and a look of boyish glee that would strike fear into the heart of any wise mother.

DH emerged with three bags full of armaments, and a slightly downcast look. They didn't have any of his favorite things. (What, no whiskers on kittens? No raindrops on roses?) We stopped at Bomber Brothers and and found that their circus-tent emporium of excitement containted whatever BlackJack's lacked. DH was delighted!

When settled at the beach, we took pictures of our various booty. His pile contained a mound of assorted mortars and things with fuses labled, "Caution! Shoots flaming balls and fountains of sparks. Will explode. Do not hold. Light fuse and get away!" My pile contained two boxes of sparklers and some plastic glow-in-the-dark sticks.