We had it all for our Fourth of July celebration at Suzanne's house yesterday. Ages ranged from babies to grandmas, with the statistical median being about twenty (not coincidentally, David's exact age). At least half of the sixty or so people who mingled around the house, yard and cul-de-sac (and I'm just guessing; I didn't do a head count) were David's friends.

The energy level was therefore decidedly more amped up than most of our family get-togethers (and by "family" I mean people related by all sorts of kinship, including law, blood, romance (from current flames to didn't-you-two-use-to-go-out?), business (didn't-you-two-use-to-work-together?) and longtime association (I knew your mom when she was your age)). (And so forth.)

We had food (chips-and-salsa, Alicia's crab mold, Mom's Velveeta loaf, salads both green and fruity, barbecued burgers and hot dogs, plus Jill's flag cake), drink (water, beer, soft drinks, beer, wine, beer, and whatever was in those funny-looking bottles), and music (Chubby Checker, Cheap Trick, Garth Brooks, Kate Smith, and two little girls singing a spirited version of "You're a Grand Old Flag").

We had sparklers, smoke, lights, colors, explosions on the ground and bombs bursting in air. It was long, loud and lively, and it was still going on when I left about eleven. It might have been a bit too much for the babies and grandmas, but even they had their moments, and a good time was had by all the rest.

Next time, though, let's schedule one of these blasts on a weekend, so that paying the price the next day doesn't include nodding off face-first into the keyboard.