Independence Day

Blogging Friends.... I hope all of my Readers who reside in America enjoyed themselves a happy and safe July 4th!! Here is my experience with Rose, who suffers from noise phobia.... Love you later.

For those of you who have not read it yet, I finally--three freakin' days later than promised!!--posted my July fictional children's story on Minuscule is good! !! Go ahead. Read it!! And be sure to leave comments!! So I know you visited!!

Congrats, congrats, congrats to Robert Downey Jr., Susan, and Exton as they are adding a girl to their little family in November!! I am so very happy for them!! I've always thought that Robert--especially considering his past--should have a daughter. How so? Nothing against sons, but a daughter eternally holds an incredibly special place within her Daddy's heart. Robert. An ex-drug addict. Is having a daughter!! It's nothing short of beautiful.

   

Bombs explode in warzones. And they are set off during terrorist attacks. Bombs' powerful blasts turn homes into rubble. They blow off people's limbs. And worst of all, bombs kill. I am not an Army soldier who served in Iraq. Nor was I a runner during the Boston Bombing Marathon. And I hope to never {Ever, ever, ever!!} witness or experience the real thing. These were thoughts which crossed through my crazy never-shuts-down head as I sat on our hard tiled "Boy's Bathroom" floor while fireworks, illegal booming pretty explosions and bottle rockets {Or "bombs" as I call them both!!} were lit on Independence Day night. I hope to never {Ever, ever, ever!!} witness or experience the real thing. There truly is no escape from fireworks in our one-level home. For we do not have a basement. So, after a few distant fireworks, I linked Rose's collar with her spare red leash and "held my girl hostage"--in "our" bedroom. Then, when they stopped, I released a very cautious Rose. She wandered toward our great room. I followed her. Well. It was 7:30 PM when the first resounding, booming, nerve-racking, heart-stopping, terrifying "bomb" went off behind our house. I gasped. Rose abruptly jumped up from her lying position by our red great room loveseat. Again, I followed my little girl, figuring that Rose would lead me to the "Boy's Bathroom". She did not. Rose wandered down the hall toward my parents' bedroom, instead. I gently grabbed her collar, another red leash in hand. I linked it to Rose's collar and lead us toward the "Boy's Bathroom". It serves as an incredible sound barrier!! Although we can still hear fireworks, illegal booming pretty explosions and bottle rockets {Or "bombs" as I call them both!!} I, myself, feel safe in the "Boy's Bathroom" on Independence Day!! As does Rose. Anywhere else in our home and she trembles, pants or tries to escape. Poor baby!! Not that I blame her. When I momentarily stepped foot into our darkened great room and stretched my legs, there were twain sudden flashes of fireworks-created light. I jumped, then whispered these words. "I am feeling unsafe in my own house!!" Not surprising. I always feel unsafe in my own home on the 4th of July!! Yes, always. But I never feel unsafe on the hard tile "Boy's Bathroom" floor!! As I sat next to Rose, and stroked her velvet-soft fur, I bemused myself with this far-out thought. It feels like we're hiding in a bomb cellar!! I know, I know. But that is--in a minuscule sense--how it feels!! Behind our house resides a semi truck driver. As he drives across America, this "neighbor"--who I have not met--purchases illegal fireworks that result in booming pretty sky lit explosions. He is safe and responsible. But these "bombs" are resounding, booming, nerve-racking, heart-stopping, and terrifying!! This year, The Trucker was not home!! That being mentioned. Despite our outside world setting off countless "bombs" anyway, the "Boy's Bathroom" felt safer this year!! Somehow. Rose--as per usual--even slept through several "bombs". Although some fireworks made my canine's eyes suddenly pop open and inhale deep Drama Queen sighs. Rose otherwise escaped to Dreamland, as her legs twitched. No tremors worked their way through my mutt's poor body. She never panted hard and salivated. Rose simply snored!! Oh, how I'd wished I possessed that ability as I was tired and exhausted all day long on July 4th!! I do not know if it was the several consecutive late nights due to pre-Independence Day fireworks. Or horrid hot Summer weather. Or the manual labor of exchanging my brother Michael's bedroom with our sister's. Or happily chasing after my energetic two-year old niece, "Amethyst" on Independence Day. Or the stress of spending five freakin' days writing my July fictional children's book. {I am already thinking about next month's story, by the way!!} Or.... Nonetheless. I was tired and exhausted!! After everybody in our home attempted slumber among seemingly endless "bombs", I mixed up my ultimate chocolate addict's recipe. About 1/2 cup Hershey's syrup--no, I have not measured it!!--mixed into pure white milk!! Yum!! I mixed it up in a glass as swiftly as I could {While "bombs" were lit above our roof, therefore terrifying me!!} then I poured my "chocolate/chocolate/chocolate milk" into one of our bottles so that Rose could not drink it. Because accidents occur. I was partying hard. Hey, I do not too much care for alcoholic beverages!! I was going to get "high on chocolate". Because I needed it!! A result which is ineffective, I'm afraid, when I am exhausted. Did you know that when the Boy's Bathroom toilet seat is down, it makes an awesome makeshift table?! Well? The counter/sink is too high up from where I was sitting!! There I set my "chocolate/chocolate/chocolate milk"!! Pop the toilet seat back up, and I can urinate in it!! Which, I did!! Toward the end of everybody's fireworks, illegal booming pretty explosions and bottle rockets {Or "bombs" as I call them both!!} I was dozing off on our hard tiled Boy's Bathroom floor, my back against the opened hollow wooden door, my feet between its toilet and sink. "Bombs"? What "bombs"? I was suddenly determined to sleep through them alongside Rose right then and there!! But alas, I could not. For every time yet another resounding, booming, nerve-racking, heart-stopping, terrifying "bomb" went off, this light sleeper--me--popped open her eyes!! Oh well!! I would have awoken the following morning with my butt and legs asleep, anyway!! Although. The bathtub would have made a good makeshift bed!! And I am just now thinking of this because....? Rose lets me leave the Boy's Bathroom--or our "bomb cellar"--so I do get to briefly witness some booming pretty explosions out our living room windows while stretching my legs!! It was 12:15 AM. "The cone is silent", to quote a line from Twister. Or so I thought. I quietly called Rose into "our" bedroom. She stood up from her lying position on the Boy's Bathroom floor. Willingly!! Rose then walked toward "our" bedroom and lay on her comically-sized dog pillow as though no "bombs" were ever lit!! I was shocked and surprised!! What a resilient girl!! Then, as I was checking our great room sliding glass door to make sure it had been locked--my pre-bed ritual--apparently yet another "bomb" or two exploded. Ugh. Rose returned back to the Boy's Bathroom--or our "bomb cellar"--and I will never, ever, ever forget her apologetic, untrusting facial expression when she looked directly at me with a pair of big brown "Beagle" eyes. I felt so very guilty, so very terrible!! Did my facial expression look displeased? Because I was most certainly frustrated. But not at Rose!! No, I was frustrated with the seemingly never-ending fireworks. I was frustrated with everybody's late, late, late night insanity. The thought that crossed my mind during those ungodly hours was this. She'll never trust me again!! Eventually, I was forced to give up as distant fireworks, illegal booming pretty explosions and bottle rockets {Or "bombs" as I call them both!!} still exploded. My clock now ticked at almost 1AM. And I was desperately in need of some sleep!! So I grabbed Rose's collar and gently pulled her out of the Boy's Bathroom. Literally!! I lead Rose to "our" smoky-smelling room--because the window was open--closed its door, heard a few faraway "bombs", apologized profusely, lay in my bed, then attempted slumber. Until another nearby resounding, booming, nerve-racking, heart-stopping, and terrifying "bomb" was lit. I popped open my eyes, checked on Rose, attempted slumber again, then yet another "bomb" exploded. Sigh. It was nearly 1:20 AM when our outside world became silent!! At last....