1. Snug is a scared dog. Quick movements, the setting down of a coffee cup, the shaking out of a quilt, another dog walking by the house all make him jump, sometimes growl. Not fireworks, though. While the bombs bursting in air lasted until 2 a.m. in our neighborhood, Snug calmly either slept or just looked up and surveyed the room with an air of disdain. (I wish the same were true for our corgi Charly. Independence Day imprisons her in fear and anxiety.)
2. I felt like cooking one of my favorite dinners tonight, so I made pork chops topped with fried apples and a brown sugar and butter sauce and a mess of green beans, bacon, mushrooms, sweet onions, and diced Yukon gold potatoes all fried together on the side. We also had a lettuce leaf salad. It was the best hour of Independence Day.
3. Since the rockets' red glare and bombs bursting in air began in our neighborhood about a week ago, I know, based on past history, it will continue for several more days at least. But, at least the sensation I experienced last night of living in Beirut or Sarajevo or Baghdad is over and my least favorite holiday has come to an end.
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