|Borrowed from Visit Reno/Tahoe
because my attempts at photos sucked.
First of all, let me clarify something. I love fireworks. I think they are fantastic and beautiful and they are the only reason I look forward to July.
I think I trick myself every year into thinking that all the shit that comes with seeing fireworks will actually be worth the fifteen minute display.
I like to lie to myself, apparently.
We went to Star Spangled Sparks for the 4th of July celebration, but not after spending practically all day in the pool. I had no desire to go check out the vendors and the bounce houses and the live music and the oh my god the entire population of Nevada has shown up in Sparks.
I checked online and saw the fireworks were supposed to start at approximately 9:45pm. But I’d been to Sparks two years ago to watch fireworks and people freaking camp out to get a “good spot” and I don’t want a good spot but I want a spot where we will be able to watch the fireworks without sharing space with anybody else. So we left the house at, like, 6:30pm. And let T go in one bounce house (there were like three) and on one ride (Those two adventures cost me $6, which is lame. At other events they usually charge $1 for the bounce house & the kid can go back as many times as he’d like. I’m such a cheapskate.)
By the way, I should mention that the “we” refers to myself, T, and T’s dad. Yeah, J and I hung out so we’d both get to spend the holiday with T. Big deal. Apparently once divorced and living away from each other, we can actually be kind of decent friends. Kind of.
So then we walked up and down Victorian Square to find somewhere to sit. T wanted some cotton candy, I wanted a soda, T got to talk to some police officers but didn’t want to sit on the motorcycle or pet the horse for reasons unbeknownst to me.
I kept posting on Twitter from my phone throughout the evening. Until the battery got down to, like, 10 percent. Because I am unable to remember to charge my phone when I spend a lot of time on Twitter. So I just opened the notepad app on the phone & kept notes on what I would have tweeted, had I not wanted to completely drain my phone’s battery.
J left T and I at a spot located between the two buildings of John Ascuaga’s Nugget to get a blanket from the car. T and I were alone for like half an hour just sitting there, listening to the live music and me telling T every five minutes that the fireworks would not start until it was dark but it would get dark soon so please stop asking me and hey let’s dance to the music.
During this time, my tweets-that-would-never-tweet proceeded as follows:
Since they aren’t actually on Twitter, I didn’t have to subscribe to this 140 character limit. Obviously.
–Free Bird? Really? I hate you everyone.
–Great business idea! Buy a bunch of glowsticks at the Dollar Store & walk around waving them in people’s faces offering to sell them a buck a piece. Brilliant!
–He waves those glowsticks in my face one more time and I’m going to shove them in his ass.
–I just yelled, “One more person fucking touches me & I’m killing you all.” And then a child stepped on my toe. I never follow through with anything.
–Yes, I really did yell it. It’s so goddamn noisy not even T heard me. AND HE’S RIGHT NEXT TO ME.
–Stop wearing matching Old Navy flag shirts!
–Yes, playing Cocaine is totally appropriate for a family event.
So then J returned and the sky got dark and the fireworks started and T stared at them the entire time. He was so excited about it.
And then they played part of Katy Perry’s Fireworks, which is T’s favorite song. I loved listening to him sing at the top of his lungs while watching the display. It was fantastic.
For 15 minutes.
I’m always so disappointed it doesn’t last longer.
That’s what she said.
Did I do that right?
So then we head back to the parking lot where I already know it’s going to be a nightmare. We decide to just hang out in the car and wait for the insanity to calm. T falls asleep in his car seat pretty much immediately because he didn’t take a nap even though I kept telling him he should but it’s totally okay because he wasn’t even all that cranky.
So J and I are hanging out in the car, watching the people who are just literally parked all over the parking lot, waiting to get out. We sit for an hour and nobody moves. Nobody. So funny. Especially for the people sitting there with their engines on, as if the line will start moving any time soon. I haven’t even turned on the car more than to roll the windows down, or even tried to get out of the parking space. Just seems futile.
So, we wait.
And I jot down a few more tweets-that-would-never-tweet.
–If you’re waiting in the worst traffic ever where everyone is parked w/ the car off waiting to move, don’t blast your radio. Nobody likes your music.
–Explain to me why the police or volunteers can’t come on board to direct the hellish traffic? B/c the people trying to get home become the most selfish & rudest people EVER. They can’t direct themselves.
–Oh yes, I read from the car owner’s manual. Figured out the weird buttons on my rear-view mirror. So, success?
–Sitting here I could’ve written at least 3 blog posts. Why don’t I have paper in my purse?
–Fucker honking repeatedly for no reason fucking stop my child is fucking sleeping. Asswipe.
And then I started thinking about how strange my life has become in the last year.
Yeah, I’ve been “blogging” for about a year now. I’m way to lazy to look up the actual day, or month. But I know it was around this time that I first set up the blog and then immediately told nobody about it. I didn’t start being active with it until a few months later.
So now, I start thinking that I’ve become kind of crazy. I am always thinking in terms of the bloggy. While I was watching the fireworks display, I was formulating a blog post about how I love fireworks but hate the crowds. As I was writing down those tweets-that-would-never-tweet, I was thinking about posting it on the blog. I took a few pictures, so I would have at least one to post on the blog.
The blog. The blog. The blog.
It’s a strange sort of affairs. Always thinking “should I blog about this?” “this would make a good post” “oh this would be good for the blog.” It’s just so weird.
But I love it. I love having this little place where I can write. I write about things that happen, things I think about, conversations I have with T. It’s fantastic. Some of this I will look forward to sharing with T. Some of this will help me keep track of where my life went. And it’s always encouraging, knowing that I am finally writing on a regular basis. Maybe it’s not all the stories and poetry I used to think would eventually get my published, but it’s writing. It’s words. It’s what I love.