Kage Baker was a fanatic devotee of fireworks. She went to happy extremes to watch and use them, which I hope to talk about at some length – tomorrow.
Tonight, I am going to bed early. I’m tired, from having helped deal with the ongoing 3-ring, 2-cat, 1-Corgi circus that is my household in the run-up to the 4th of July. Living as I do in a quiet residential area of Los Angeles, this is the time of year when half the city loses its collective mind and tries for a week to burn the other half down. The fireworks have been getting earlier and louder every night for the last week, and the family pets are on their last nerves.
So are my sister and I. Today, the poor beasties began began having panic attacks at 3 in the afternoon. It’s impossible to go from room to room – or even chair to chair – without someone furry and frightened trying to hide between your ankles. And distressed Corgis … sing. Dylan wails in terror, sounding like a little tenor wolf on bad drugs. At least the cats just creep into laps to hide. Or they creep into cupboards. And bookcases. And bathtubs. You don’t know they are there until two frantic paws come round the toilet to desperately embrace your naked ankles. Man, that’s a surprise.
Harry, by the way, doesn’t care at all. He loves explosions and loud noises. It could be real mortar rounds out there, and he’d be cheering for the biggest blasts.
Luckily, Dylan also has some good drugs available as well, which we can give him every 8 hours at need. He is now asleep at last, and likely to remain so until 3 or 4 this morning. He’ll miss whatever late night fireworks go off, as well as the nightly raccoon canvassing on the front porch. With some good luck, Kimberly may get as much as 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Come The Day, he will spend the entire 24 hours stoned to his enormous ears.
I used to enjoy fireworks so much more … still, I will enjoy writing about Kage and her own hysterical experiences tomorrow. Consider this entry, Dear Readers, as a spacer; a little glass ball separating big bright wodges of glowing beads on the string of my narrative.
If you look very closely, you can see sky rockets blooming upside down inside the clear spheres, colours spangled against the dark glassy inside curve …