Ah, Wilderness! Ah, Bottle Rockets!
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I was never the best with fireworks. Which I find odd, in retrospect, because I had nearly flawless hand-eye coordination. Reflexes that would make a hummingbird jealous. I played tennis, and well. But, somehow this quick-speed ability failed me at fireworks. I learned the hard way, too. For some reason, as children, when the Hot Holidays arrived, so called because we were allowed fireworks as part of the celebration - and these included Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas which drained into New Year's, Valentine's Day, the Fourth; basically, we begged for fireworks on every holiday - and when we got them, oh how we eagerly hoarded...
Persistence has no pesticide.
It all started with the handmade oatmeal soap my sister-in-law gave me, in the guise of a present. I must say, wrapped as it was in that beautiful red gift paper, it was quite a thoughtful-looking Christmas present. That’s the allure of wrapping paper, though, isn’t it? I learned this early on: people will take anything on this earth if you just wrap it pretty enough. It can be a thoughtless happy, a re-gift (as American as the NRA), a genuine present, anything. Many is the household item, kitchen utensil, family portrait, that I, as a child, took and re-wrapped and gave to Nana...
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