I got in bed after 11 p.m. on July 4th. The war zone explosions kept us out in the backyard, keeping vigil like a World War II bomb-watch brigade.
Although people in Fresno, and elsewhere, are bitterly complaining about prices of everything, these same people have large amounts of money available to buy anything they want, whether it is high-priced gas for their new cars, plane tickets to vacation getaways, expensive meals at restaurants, and $800 fireworks packages. Now, those are the safe and sane variety and there were many, but what really blew us away were the professional grade, bombs-bursting-in-air variety. These cost far more.
The Fresno Police and Fire Departments had threatened to fine those who were setting off any explosive that left the ground (that’s all of them, even the safe and sane), there were far too many for the patrols to find and write a $1000 ticket. Besides, the attitudes of these pyromaniacs was that they were just entertaining their dear families and friends. It’s all good fun, and should we be fined, it’s part of the whole cost of the party.
The sparks rained down on us, and I found lots of detritus from the exploding devices in our driveway this morning. Not on our street, but in other parts of the city, cars caught on fire because they had been left outside, on the streets. Ours were garaged as they always are. Car alarms went off all evening due to the loud explosions. The cats were terrorized. My anxiety was off the charts. Never has it been this overwhelming.
Will the city make changes for next year? Nope. Police and fire will warn people. The people will pay no attention. The illegal fireworks are very easy to procure. They provide lots of bang for the buck, and people have the buck to send up in flame. I will be a year older and it will rattle my nerves. It’s only one evening in a war zone.
The ants invaded front and back yesterday. The front porch had the little critters climbing the steps. The patio had them marching from the Italian cypress all the way to the dry cat food dish. The morning was a flurry of moving porch furniture, hosing the critters away from the front door, dumping cat food, sweeping the patio…and of course, finding the ant stakes to put in the proper places to halt their march to take over the world. All of this before 8 a.m.
The cats are enjoying the summer, finding roaches and ripping their legs off. There is very tall grass around the the greenhouse pad, which is ideal for certain insects. The kittens scamper and chase these critters all morning until they collapse in a pile and sleep under the trees in the cool grass.
Early last week we had many days of 104 degrees, but that has given way to cool temperatures in the 90s. Friday evening was so beautiful, with clouds at sunset that lit up bright orange and a breeze blowing through the backyard. Terry and I sat out on the bench, waiting for illegal fireworks to explode, watching the cats chase each other and climb the trees.
Friday night was quieter than expected, only a couple of loud bangs. I’m assuming each night, leading up the grand ol’ 4th, will get more explosive. Warnings have been going out on a daily basis, telling people of the fines they will incur should they set off the illegal stuff. I’m sure everyone is paying close attention and will adhere to the rules NOT! There is so much dry grass due to the drought and the people who refuse to water their yards. It’s very scary. Just one spark can set off a major fire.
Of course, I hate the sound of the fireworks. My anxiety, at this time of year, is literally, sky-high.
It was quite a week in San Francisco last week, what with the World Series win by the Giants on Monday night. The celebration started and continued on through Wednesday with the big parade. The town just went crazy and all through the day the crowd of orange moved through the streets. I could sit above the Embarcadero and watch the people, many heading to CalTrain Station, many lining up at the Ferry dock. Public transportation was strained to the limits as it moved almost one million people along their way to and from the parade.
Finally, on Friday, the city was very quiet. No shouting, screaming throngs of people, no horns honking, no sea of orange. Traffic was even light out on the Embarcadero. The day was winding down, quietly, and I was heading to bed, fairly early, as I had to be up on Saturday morning to babysit my delightful granddaughter.
But, lo, the celebration was not over. Just after 9, the tiny studio lit up, as fireworks started, just outside the window, from a barge on the bay. I grabbed my iPhone and started taking pictures. Here are a few:
There were many orange hearts, but this was the best I could do with that little camera.
On Saturday, returning from that babysitting job in San Mateo, I noticed that the S and the F on the hillside of South San Francisco had been painted orange while the rest of the letters remained white. Their salute to the Giants. And so the celebrations continue.