Feh. Ugh. Remember a couple of weeks ago, when I wrote that mornings were finally
cooling down? Well, apparently it was just a tease. The heat is
back.
This morning's row was purely miserable because of that. I was
hoping to finish 10K, but at about 8000, I started to think about how this is
supposed to be something I do for fun. That convinced me to turn around and head
it, because it wasn't being fun at all, not one bit. I ended up rowing about 9200
meters, none of it at much pressure.
I wish we could just build our
house up on the Airpark property and move in. That's a perfect climate, four
seasons but none too extreme. And also a proper appreciation for community
fireworks, apparently. On Saturday, they had all their July 4 activities, because
the whole town had been evacuated due to the
Rodeo-Chediski fire back when it was originally scheduled. I had heard and
forgotten about the postponement; fortunately a neighbor reminded us about the
fireworks show in time.
Wow. Just wow.
These days, when
they're refer to that community they motly call it "Heber-Overgaard", because the
towns are contiguous, but even when you consider them together, it's a small town.
That's why we were so surprised at how good the fireworls were. They were as
spectacular as any I'd seen, lasted well over least half an hour, and
included some effects I'd never seen -- 3 colors of sparks insterspersed together,
or one that opened out into the shape of a five-pointed star.
During
the last quarter of the show, though, when my eyes had glazed over a bit and the
"oohs" and "ahs" around us were starting to sound automatic, I started to think
about the way fireworks shows used to be, back when I was a wee lass. You'd get to
the park, stake out a spot, spread your blanket and wait. FInally they'd shoot up
the first rocket, and it would burst in spangles across the sky. You'd stare at it
because it was the most beautiful thing you'd seen since last July 4th. The
firework would dissipate and all the sparks would flicker out, then you'd wait
there in the dark for a few minutes until they shot up another one, or maybe
another set of them, if it was a big show. After maybe ten of these, the pauses
between would start to seem longer and longer, and after each one, you'd wonder if
this was the end. And that, young boys and girls, is why fireworks shows always
have grand finales. In days of yore, you needed something to tell you when it was
really finished and not just momentarily dormant. When it did end. you went home
wanting more, wishing the show could have lasted longer.
Fireworks
are better now than they were then, and I wouldn't want to go back to the long
wait for each one, but shows that go on for so long you get tired of them tend to
destroy the mystique and sense of wonder that make fireworks so magical in the
first place.
Something irrelevant I learned last night: there's
actually a Great Big Sea song in the soundtrack to Something About Mary.