The paintings, photos, thoughts and travels of a freelance artist.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year
I stood on the deck to watch the fireworks, but the mosquitoes chased me inside. It’s been raining so they have bred and organized into kamikaze squadrons. I forgot about Hawaii and fireworks. They really blow stuff up, and not just the weenie store bought stuff that is marginally legal. People, mostly guys I think, make yard canons out of large pieces of pipe. They flash when the gasoline catches fire and then explode. The resounding boom rattles the fillings in your teeth. Dogs scream and cats turn into Brillo pads then disappear for days, sometimes forever. Veterans experience flashbacks. There is no way not to jump. I tell myself, “I’m cool, the next one is NOT going to make me spill something.” Then kaboom. “Really, the couch is suede? Will Coke make a permanent stain?” Fireworks can’t be lit before 9:00pm. At 8:59 and fifty nine seconds the first mega blast reverberates off the windows, bowing them in. Further away the explosions sound like thunder, but one blast in the driveway next door sounded more like someone tossed a match in the SUV’s gas tank. Tomorrow on the news we’ll find out how many lost digits were the result of igniting yard canons. I'm pretty sure the neighbor is temporarily deaf. This won’t go on much beyond midnight, but if it scared off mosquitoes like it does cats I might almost be willing to risk the neighbor’s goodwill, the dog’s sanity and a few digits.