Independence Day!

Happy 4th of July folks!

I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, but we've spent about 500 dollars on fireworks so far on this visit. I always go a little crazy with the artillery shells and such whenever we head out to Oklahoma. Virginia's rules are so stringent and stupid... out here, we can get massive artillery shells and blow all kinds of stuff up. So far, Russ and I have managed to escape uninjured - the same cannot be said for Ronnie, though, who let go a black cat a little too late and ended up splitting his first finger wide open and blowing off half of his thumbnail. But a little risk is part of what makes the 4th so much fun.

We've been slowly acclimating Roy to the explosions as well. The first time we tried setting off a firework that had a report to it, Roy jumped cried and buried his head on my shoulder. Now he hardly even jumps when Russ starts tossing out the black cats. We picked up a bunch of daytime fireworks for him to see as well since he'll likely be fast asleep before the town's show begins.

And thus ends our trip to Kingfisher. Tomorrow after lunch we'll be making the drive to Dallas, and I can't say I'll be sorry to see the last of this town. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the entire town is crumbling around their ears. It's a study in contrasts - genteel century-old farmhouses with gorgeous cast-iron gates surrounding the yards, and less than a block away, houses we thought had been condemned and abandoned, they were in such awful shape, with car graveyards rotting in the front yard and abandoned shopping carts... only to be suprised when we see faces inside the windows. People actually lived there! There was one new business we were happy to see - some enterprising soul opened an actual coffee shop on Main street, so for the first time on a trip out here, Russ and I were able to get real caffeine. The only options otherwise are our choice of Folgers crystals or Maxwell House in the town's single tiny grocery store. The sight of a real espresso machine, and someone who didn't blink and go "what?" when we asked for a latte was enough to make me nearly weep in relief.

Hell, I did go to the grocery store to pick up fresh veggies and fruits to fix up for Roy, and as we were going through the checkout line, the cashier picks up the butternut squash I'd put in the cart and asks "what are you going to do with this?" I told her "I'm making food for my baby." Ivy pipes in with "she makes all of her baby's food by herself" and the cashier gets a stupefied expression on her face and asks "WHY?" The thought of eating something fixed fresh, judging by the selection available in their produce section, is apparently reserved for weird hippie types like me. This strikes me as strange, given that we're smack dab in the middle of the corn belt and Kingfisher has two lines of employment on offer - Pioneer telephone, or farming. But other than potatoes, iceberg lettuce and corn, folks around here apparently are not fond of cooking what they grow, unless it has first been extruded, processed, preserved and canned.

I'm looking forward to Plano, and the ability to find fresh vegetables without getting strange looks for buying them.

Enjoy your 4th of July with the snakes and sparklers! I'm going to go blow some shit up.