Well, well. It turned out just spectacular.

And for once, I'm not being sarcastic.

The only 4th of July injuries were husband's partially julienned finger--a consequence of squash and zucchini preparation--and an ant bite on a 7 year old that turned into a dramatic scene under our oak. It was like a reenactment on an Animal Planet show..."10 Deadliest Bites."

The food was great, and for the first time in the history of this event, I was not the only vegetarian. So in addition to the plethora of carnage options, there was plenty to eat. Ever tried grilled corn in its husk after it's been slathered in butter? Gotta say, that's some good eating.

Husband's firework show was so beautiful and well orchestrated that for a moment, I didn't visualize dollar bills exploding and falling from the sky.

Surprisingly, the only wife beater tank top was worn by a kid from down the street--the same kid who received the red ant visit, so I am now firmly convinced that wife beaters are against nature's laws as well.