The guy family tradition for 4th of July is to lay bets on whether there will be fog or fireworks, and to agree that next year we will get on the roof and *really* do it up. I've had a cold all week, so we kept it quiet.
Mrguy made some Deggi Mirch chicken, and we listened to the Sons of Hawaii. When the booms started, we moved to the porch.
This was a better year than most. We could see fireworks from four counties. Although we could barely make out the city fireworks through colored fog, the city across the bay had a good display that we could just make out over our neighbor's roof. To the north, we had a really decent set of fireworks (ironically emanating from a city whose founding industry was dynamite) And really really far north we could see another display in the distance, tiny like baby dandelions.
On the local scene, folks on Solano obviously had a few sheckels to rub together because someone in that direction was blowing off some expensive fireworks, and the drug dealer fireworks to the west of us continued their trend of increasing sophistication. Fewer little rockets that erupt in a red and a green spark. More big pom poms with a loud boom. Mrguy turned to me last night and said "Business is good".
In all the hubbub this week, I forgot to observe Meat Day. Happy Belated Meat Day, peeps!