Friday, July 07, 2006


Remember when sparklers were the coolest thing, and you couldn't wait to write your name with them on the Fourth of July? I got a chance to recall that kind of excitement at a friends' BBQ on the 4th.

Maritza lit up the sticks for the kids, who reacted warily at first to the jumpy fire at the other end.

But pretty soon they were jumping around, throwing down poppers, swinging those sparklers like swords.

You gotta love Burbank, that bastion of suburban life. You can't buy sparklers there -- Maritza had to go all the way to Asuza to find some. But they had a fiery display spurted out from the Starlight Bowl that led to a traffic jam of SUVs in the Burbank foothills.

We adults, full of barbecued meat, veggies, and Death by Chocolate, lounged nearby and awaited the fireworks, which burst nearly overhead thanks to Pam and Scott's excellent location. We concluded, that amortized over 30 years of July 4ths, the view of the fireworks had to add at least a quarter of a million to the value of their home.

Young Hunter's commentary during the display was even more entertaining than the fireworks themselves. During one burst he said, "It's a puppy!"

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