Last week was a little weird. Anytime a holiday falls smack in the middle of the week, it throws stuff off, right? Several times last week I found myself asking Jack 'hey, what day do you think it is??' Sometimes he could answer on the fly, but sometimes it took a consult with the chalkboard/calendar.  

Our 4th was simple and wonderful. Robert treated us to the most fabulous American dinner of ribs, corn salsa, and an apple/broccoli coleslaw {did I mention that I live with the talents of Emeril? 'cause I do} After we stuffed our faces with fabulousness, basked in the glow of our extra belly swell and licked  sauce off our person, we rolled ourselves to the front yard to shoot off some fireworks in the driveway with our neighbors. And if ya'll live in the south, then you know how serious southerners take their fireworks.

"So you're gonna tell me that you don't have no black cats, no roman candles or screamin mimis? Oh come on man, you don't got no lady fingers, buzz buddles, sneaker bombs, church burners, finger blasters, gut busters, zippity doo das or crap flappers? You're gonna stand there, owning a fireworks stand, and tell me you don't have no whistling bungholes, no spleen splitters, whisker biscuits, honkey lighters, hoosker dos, hoosker don'ts, cherry bombs, nipsy daisers, with or without the scooter stick, or one single whistling kitty chaser?
{thanks to my dear friend Jill who shares this gem with us every 4th!! Miss you, Jill}

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But, it was bittersweet as our great neighbors moved across the country the next day, and we will miss them like crazy.

We ended the night with a fantastic fireworks show in the little town of Dillsboro.

{If you know of anyone looking to buy a fantastic home nestled on a large creek with the. best. neighbors. ever, in the western NC mountains...shoot me an email  :)