Not Just For the Fourth of July
July 27, 2008
Because when you are famous you get fireworks whenever you want.
I got an email the other day, along with a gazillion other people, which asked : How can you continue to write about your life as if it is a normal-every-day-writing-just-for-myself life when you are receiving, in some cases, enough monetary payments to live off of your blog?
I responded, nicely I thought, that I know almost no people who are able to live solely off of their ad revenue. But apparently she said she can no longer relate to me, because of the things I blog about.
Considering that the bulk of my posts over the past few months have been about baseball or driving to baseball, I am thinking perhaps she has some misinformation.
I want to make it clear, baseball is an equal opportunity sport. You do not have to be rich and famous to play Little League. The same goes for driving a mini-van.
I hope that clears up any confusion.
Yesterday a town near us was having fireworks. I was not in the mood to go. First of all because fireworks are late at night, at the time when the little kids are usually in bed and I am “off-duty” Second, because I was still recovering from some sort of plague that I brought home from Blogher. Third, because my husband has all these really great ideas and then usually I have to be the one who does the follow through, and see numbers one and two above.
I grudgingly decided to go. With a capital G.
We had to park about a mile away. Then we waited in line for 35 minutes to buy the kids ice cream cones that cost an arm and a leg. We found a grassy hill to sit on and I pulled the blankets and bug spray out of my bag of tricks, as my husband calls it. Then we listened to “When are the fireworks going to start?” for the next hour.
The fireworks started and we lay back on our blankets, limbs all tangled together, and the kids cheered and clapped. The hassle of getting there seemed unimportant. It wasn’t too late at night. I wasn’t too sick. Tossing the blankets and bug spray into my bag really was not that big of deal.
Too quickly the fireworks ended and we began the trek back to the car. Miles was waving the glowstick he found on road in front of his face. He suddenly broke out into song.
“It’s the best day, eeeevvvvvveerrrrrrr”
Leave it to SpongeBob Square Pants to sum up the evening.