I'm an old woman

No, truly, I am. I know that my driver's license only says I'm 25, but nights like this make me feel much older. The hubby and I walked over to the lake where the fireworks were going to be set off, and had quite the night. There was a live band at the park which sounded like they were trying to be in direct competition with Jimmy Hendricks minus the ability to play a guitar or sing well. They didn't play any patriotic songs at all, and when the fireworks started, they didn't stop. Their music wasn't in any way related to the fireworks, it didn't correspond with it or crescendo/decrescendo with it, but instead it was almost like there were two concerts going on at the same time--one a boring fireworks display and one a discordant rendition of Sweet Home Alabama. They finally quit about 10 minutes in to the fireworks starting, and I'm not sure if that helped, because then all you heard was either the boom of the fireworks (when you were lucky) or the group of teenagers sitting close by who were all flirting and laughing (when you were unlucky.)

As the fireworks exploded overhead, my mind wandered. I mentally put together a to-do list for tomorrow. I wondered how my dogs were doing at home (they abhor loud noises, which makes the 4th of July the worst sort of torture for them.) I went over items that I wanted to cover on my WAHMJobs.net website. And then I would think, "Oh yeah, there's fireworks going off up there." I would glance at the exploding red, blue, and white display in the sky and before I even had a chance to register what I was seeing, I was back to mentally rearranging my front yard's flower beds.

Pretty soon my mental meanderings were interrupted by yet another group of teenagers. I thought the ones sitting next to us who were all flirting and laughing and talking incessantly were pretty bad, but they were nothing in comparison to the group who came walking up behind us. Two of the members of this preteen group were in some sort of heated argument, and I would quote that argument for you, but 95% of the words in that argument were pretty nasty swear words, unrepeatable by any standards. I leaned over and whispered in Doug's ear, "Are we sure we want to have kids?" He whispered back, "No," and I laughed. The soon-to-be juvenile delinquents (they very well could be delinquents now, but they are too young to be considered juveniles) wandered off after a while, and I did my best to concentrate on the admittedly very boring fireworks display still going on overhead. This year's showing was nothing to write home about, to state it politely.

I whispered to Doug, "I think I am an old woman." He whispered back, "You want to go?" God bless him, he is just amazing. I would have given my eye teeth to be able to leave just then. We stood up and started walking home. About a 100 feet down the path towards home, the finale began. We stopped and turned and watched it together, snuggled arm in arm with each other. The finale only lasted about 20 seconds, and then we turned and walked home together.

I may be an old woman, but at least I married an old man. We can be the youngest old couple to ever walk the Earth.

Hand me my cane, will ya? I've got some teenage kids I need to go thump some good manners in to.