DIY Danger: "The Best Holiday EVER."

Not content with flinging rocks off the top of high ladders and power drilling with three-year-olds, yesterday we went in for high explosives, in honor of our country's birth.

The neighbors on the corner kicked things off, and then we dug into the crate of fireworks provided by our friend Jeff. (The story is that when Jeff offered to get fireworks, Bryan told him "We want something big and loud -- something dangerous." So Jeff went down to the reservation, threw $100 down on the counter, and said "Gimme the best you got.") These included one that sent Simon sprinting up the block in terror -- and then sprinting back shouting "That was amazing!" Also the dreaded "Black Mamba," which we accidentally set off upside down. A couple we had never met before wandered over from the next street to contribute some Roman Candles, prompting the comment, "Wow, they're like the Fourth of July Santas!"

Ioan very wisely decided to get a little bit of distance from the proceedings ("Cause I'm scared of the Black Mama"), and Andrew (out of bed for the first time in a week) kept him company.

This morning we rose early to watch the Williams sisters battle it out at Wimbledon, and then took it easy the rest of the day. In between naps and crossword puzzles and horehound steam treatments and eating leftover cherry-nectarine cobbler, we worked on the treehouse some. (I do hope you're not all tired of hearing about the treehouse -- unfortunately it has kind of taken over our lives and psyches, so there's not much else to report most days.) 

We had a really hard time getting our heads around this joint at first, but that made it all the more satisfying when it turned out so well: