the juicer, the chicken, the fireworks

That pretty much sums up my 4th of July.

Ours was a success, I'd say. The day started out nicely enough. Saturday afternoon, I'd put our Power Juicer for sale on craigslist. We bought it about a year ago when our soft-sell-watching-too-much-late-night-TV kids convinced us to do so. Yeah! We could use it for surplus veggies from the garden! Make our own V-8 type thing!

Surprise. Soft-sell-watching-too-much-late-night-TV kids don't much care for veggie juice. Neither do I for that matter (Magnum will eat/drink anything). They wanted me to make fruit juice. Well, we don't grow our own fruit, so in the end, the "homemade" juice would actually cost more to make than just to buy already in juice form. PLUS, I'd have to go through the pain of cleaning all those pesky juicer parts.

For sale: One Power Juicer.

On Sunday morning, I found that someone had answered my ad. I called her number. "I can't eat solid foods! I'll take it!" She lives south end of town, I live north end, so we arranged to meet in the middle. I drove to the designated exchange place where I received a call that her borrowed truck had thrown a coupla lug nuts, and they were waiting for replacements.

They weren't far, so I just drove and made the juicer exchange literally on the on ramp to the interstate. Good thing I'm not a drug dealer.

Later in the afternoon, it was off to the annual 4th o' July pot-luck block party. This is always a fun time catching up with neighbors and meeting new ones. My new cool next door neighbor, whom I'd only spoken with briefly a couple of times, makes a mean Teryaki chicken. It's SO mean, she would not share the recipe with the rest of us. It's like some ancient Hawaiian secret!

The night was topped off with the traditional plethora of illegal fireworks - pretty much a display of testosteral manliness - while we womenfolk just gabbed away, despite the noise, in true womanly fashion.

I think our forefathers would approve.
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