Confessions of a fireworks junkie
I love fireworks. No, I mean it. I LOVE fireworks. They blow up in the sky like a big electric flower. There is no such thing as a bad firework, though some are better than others. This weekend I got oh so lucky. Three - count 'em - THREE - nights of fireworks. Thank you, Mother Nature, for making Thursday's weather bad enough so some fireworks displays were postponed. Woo hoo! The first night we went to Greenbelt Park. I've never seen fireworks there. They did a nice job! There were lots of families and even more fireflies. It was beautiful. A picnic dinner made for a special evening. The second night was in Laurel. The Very Good Boyfriend braved the traffic to find a spot for us to watch the fireworks. There were lots of cars and lots of phone/electric lines but it was still a good time. They had fireworks in the shape of hearts and smiley faces. Odd, but as I've said before, there is no such thing as a bad firework. Last night