Hey, Baby

Its the Fourth of July

We hitched a ride up the nasty long hill (we were already achy and old; oh, our corns!) from Art on his souped-up golf cart to be sent away with a long and fancy fireworks display we didn't expect. Every time we saw what had to be the finale, with dozens of flares shooting into the sky at once, they'd just keep going. It was magical, with most people long gone from the canyon parking lot under the inky sky. Now, if we'd only gotten to see them last year. . . .

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