Browsing Archives for May 2009

The Pyro Crew

May 15th, 2009

Every Fourth of July. our small town hosts the most spectacular fireworks show in the area.

It is planned, organized, designed, built, and set off by a volunteer group of local men known as the Pyro Crew.

This year the fireworks show was moved from it’s old location in the City Park to the brand new ballfields, which meant that the show could be even bigger, louder, and that even more people could watch it from the surrounding soccer fields and hillsides.

Because I am a very serious blogger and am also practically dripping with investigative reporting skills, I went down to the ballfields on the morning of the Fourth to interview the guys about the process of being a member of the Pyro Crew.

They told me a lot of things about all the planning…

and the organizing…
and the technical difficulties…
and the paperwork…

But mostly…
I just noticed how cool their shirts were.

And it made me want to be a part of the Pyro Crew so that I could have a Pyro Crew shirt.

But I don’t think they are going to let me join them.

Because after talking with them for quite a while… all I really remember is this one little detail…

The Pyro Crew uses pipes like the one pictured above to light the fuses on the firework thingys…
I asked them how long they had after they lit the fuse to get away.

They told me you have about one second.
Then they said…
You don’t get away….

You just try and duck down a little bit…
After that I decided that I don’t really want to be on the Pyro Crew after all.

But that is okay…

Because the world of investigative journalism needs me much more.

Box O’ Crap

May 15th, 2009

On a recent trip back to my hometown, I was met at the door to my parent’s home by my sister April who was in frothy frenzy. She was attempting to re-organize my parent’s entire house in a few short days! She insisted that I help her.

I didn’t want to help her.
I wanted to watch nineteen solid hours of HGTV!
Because I don’t have HGTV.
So I feel it is my duty to catch up when I am at the folks.
But April would not let me.
Before I arrived, April had already sorted through MY old bedroom closet. She had a box. A box of stuff that she had found in that closet that she thought I needed to have.
I did not want the stuff in the box.
I left it at home.
A few weeks later, my mom came for a visit and she had the box of stuff that April had found in my closet.
And SHE LEFT it at my HOUSE!
The box has been sitting in the study for several weeks.
I was tempted to pitch the entire thing in the trash, but on Saturday I sat down and went through it
Here is what I found in that box o’ crap.
Old Dance Pictures….

Why could not the photographer have said…
Uh Miss… Miss… you might want to pat down your hair… your hair… it looks like you have two horns…. just give it little pat…. maybe run your fingers through it… here I have a comb…. and a mirror… Go ahead fix it… There! That’s better!
But no…
Instead I have horns.

I really loved this particular ballet costume.
I thought it was very wispy and elegant and princess like.
I remember thinking that in this photo, I wanted to appear serious. I wanted to be pale and waif-like and fragile and somber. I wanted to look like an oil painting. I wanted to look like something out of a fairy tale.
I don’t think people in fairy tales EVER have feathered hair.
But I succeeded in looking somber.
And slightly pissed off.

Now here is a study in contrast.
Note the lace buttoned collar and the austere sweater vest and the ZIT which is set off so nicely…


This appears to be some sort of photography project where I was to write about what was wrong with the photos. I have been taking bad pictures for a very long time. This is a skill I was just born with. You can’t learn it. You either have it or your don’t!
Now let me tell you what is wrong with these photos.
What is wrong with the first photo is that April took a picture of me jumping off my parents’ well proving once and for all that I AM A GIGANTIC DOOFUS.
What is wrong with the second picture is that my sister looks like she is dressed for an episode of WKRP Cincinnati.

My High school graduation tassel was in the box o’ crap. I don’t know how I got through the past twenty years without it.

And THANK GOD my sister placed this precious artifact in that box!

I found the last will and testament from my entire graduating class. I willed my talent to look good after a football game to my High school boyfriend.
I must have been referring to the blue eyeliner.

I found this assignment from Home Economics.

I got a C.
How do you get a C on a wardrobe inventory?
It appears I was supposed to write something about my attitudes and values towards clothing. I don’t know why I missed that part of the assignment. But I can tell you now that my attitude towards clothi
Can I have a better grade now?
Can I???

Then there was all this stuff.

and GEEAWWW… all this stuff!!!!
And OH LORD this stuff!
I am sorry to tell you this…
I was in a pageant once…
Yes, I was.
It was hard times then.
Small town…
Not much to do except stand around in corn fields and drink beer…
…and be in pageants.
So I chose the pageant route.
What is funny about this, is that as I was paging through the photos in the booklet, I was trying to remember which girl won…
I remembered which girl I wanted to win, but I knew she did not.
I remember which girl I thought would win, but she didn’t win either.
Then I found this picture…

I guess number 18 was the winner.

And judging from what I did to her mouth – I guess I was not too happy about it…

And this is my pink fluffy sister in a hoop skirt.
She is the one who made this box o’ crap possible.
Thank you April.
I am saving Donald Duck nightlight and the seashell just for you.

My sister and I were not always the glamour queens that you see today.

We started out as simple small town girls…

It takes years of perseverance and strain and hard work and dedication and lying on the sofa with a box of stale Nilla wafers on your stomach while yelling at your kids to

before you can achieve this level of high fashion modelling.

So don’t be too hard on yourselves…

We used to be normal sweet little girls….

Just like everyone else…
P.S. Jean at Renovation Therapy has a hilarious contest going on with much better prizes than old, used books.