Here's the Scoop
Fireworks on the Fourth
It was a wild and wacky Fourth of July weekend. Relatively speaking, of course. It’s not like I was out drag racing with Justin Bieber. Thankfully.
I usually try to keep my social calendar under control. I like to pace myself. Plus, there’s a limit to my “niceness” — it’s not something I like to hand out in large doses.
Still, I guess because it was a holiday weekend, I agreed to attend three parties. The nice thing about outdoor events in July is that the weather is always warm. Unless it was borderline freezing, like Friday. The good news was that we enjoyed a small fire that quickly melted the scattered snowflakes that blanketed the group. Just joking there, but it certainly felt like snow was a possibility.
Being hearty Catskill Mountain people, we refused to go inside. It was July, after all. Instead, we used laughter to keep us warm. I’d love to use this space to tell you some of the funny stuff that happened during the evening, but I swore that the specifics were off the record. I even asked for permission to change the names of the story characters and that didn’t fly either.
I am allowed to say that our hosts were kind enough to provide a really nice fireworks display. Well, they weren’t exactly the suppliers of the fireworks, but the view from their house was super. Even though we couldn’t see the ground displays from our vantage point, we had a bird’s eye look at the airborne fireworks. Plus, we didn’t have to go on any rides or “invest” in stuffed animals. I did get a craving for fried dough during the finale, though.
It was more of the same the next night. Only different. This party had a completely different cast of characters — including one who explained that she was working toward a degree as a sex therapist. I can’t make up this stuff. Anyhow, I’m sure there are worse ways to make a living.
As a general rule, if I like the people at a party and the food is good, I don’t really complain. And this isn’t really a complaint — more of a minor concern — the beer was crap. I’m not a beer snob, however, I do have a certain amount of respect for my taste buds.
Because we had attended a party at the same place last year, one of the attendees was kind enough to e-mail us ahead of time and warn that the party would be “light” on decent beer and we may want to bring some. We did — and others thanked us. As the evening wore on and everyone was quite relaxed, I suggested that maybe a “beer therapist” be invited to the next gathering. A number of folks said they’d drink to that idea — and they’d being doing so with beer that we supplied.
Oddly enough, we had an invitation to a third social event, but the timing wasn’t quite right. I had already stayed up way later than usual two nights in a row and had pretty much managed not to insult anyone. The “party therapy” must be working.
— Brian Sweeney