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8 july 2003
currently reading They Cleared the Lane: The NBA's Black Pioneers, by Ron Thomas. Everyone knows that Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball. This book tells the fascinating, little-told stories of those who did it for the NBA. Great book.  A People's History of the United States, by Howard Zinn. I'm only about a third of the way through this book, but I can already tell you that it's one of the best I've read in awhile. Engaging and detailed, this is everyone else's history: Native Americans, women, child laborers, and the poor. Zinn does an outstanding job of balancing what we learned in high school textbooks with a less glorified discussion of our country's oft-violent, imperialist past. I will be incorporating selections from this book into my next batch of 8th-graders' lessons. current listening BBC World News. I'm finding this to be a habit in the evening. | warm dinners and light, brought to you by the letter y [chromosome]
I've just returned from another week at the beach, with a darker tan than I've had since college. Conditions were perfect for sitting on the beach and reading like a fiend. They weren't so perfect for swimming the surf, since it stormed and churned up some mighty riptides. We got a good beat-down during our swimming attempts. Still, the water felt good, and the breezes were perfect. It was a fantastic week, relaxing and worthwhile, and spent in wonderful company.
Six of us stayed in the Emerald Isle beach house last week, with two having brought fireworks. Woo-hoo! Explosives! We weren't anticipating a big 4th light show, since Emerald Isle (on North Carolina's Outer Banks) is more residential than party central. We expected to see a decent show from the big pier, and looked forward to that.
Apparently, a number of beachgoers had traveled to South Carolina, and crammed fireworks into every available automobile crevice for a rippin' fourth. Two of our party brought the less-lethal fireworks that you can legally purchase in North Carolina.
That night, we walked onto our porch to witness fireworks in every direction. Several groups were putting on pretty good shows from the beach, and the east and west fishing piers also had good professional fireworks. It was a fun display of home-grown pyromania, and we hoped that everyone went home with all of their thumbs.
Then, the guys in our house said, "let's light ours".
We got the fireworks and a lighter from the house. Unfortunately, the beach breezes were very strong that night, and they couldn't get explosive one to light. They dug a hole with barrier in the sand--didn't work. One of the guys placed his body stragetically between wind and explosive--nada. They schemed, they lit..but no fireworks.
At this point, we ladies became concerned at the increasingly-dangerous methods the guys were using to ignite the fireworks. When one of them yelled, "hey, get a bag and the bourbon!"...well, you step back a few more steps. While these guys are undoubetedly smarter than average bears, we can't help but remember their happy childhood tales of homemade electronic devices, explosives experimentation, and youthful interest in caustic chemicals.
In short, they're having way too much fun trying to solve this problem. We step back a few more feet when someone shows up with the plastic bag.
Placing firework inside the plastic bag, guy #2 successfully lights it. Sand flies everywhere as they yell, "run!" and scurry in our direction. Firework goes "boom", looks cool, makes us gals proud--until guy #3 RUNS TOWARD THE EXPLODING FIREWORK and then LIGHTS ANOTHER ONE FROM IT WHILE IT IS STILL SHOOTING STUFF!
He does this a few more times. The guys admire his innovation and speed. The rest of us are frantically trying to remember if there's a first aid kit in the house.
All of the fireworks explode without incident. In fact, they look pretty cool. For about an hour, we enjoyed more fireworks from more people, in more directions, than we've ever seen! It was heaps of fun.
It was also an eye-opening glimpse into the mind of men, charcoal grilling, and/or fireworks. You will never convince me that it was a prehistoric woman who rubbed those first two sticks together to get fire. If it weren't for men, whose Y-chromosome is hard-wired for building fire, we'd still eat nothing but sushi, raw vegetables, and steak tartar.
Thus, I have discovered the solution to all of womankind's problems. If you need your fella's assitance with something, let him set it on fire. For example, "honey, if you do the laundry, I'll let you ignite all of the odd socks." Or, "would you please bring me a box of feminine hygiene products from the store? They're flammable...." Forget all of those dumb relationship books and the crap you hear on "Oprah". For lasting love, all you need is a can of lighter fluid, some matches, and a freezer full of beef. Replace, "honey, we need to talk" with "let's grill something!"
You'll be smoochin' in no time.
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