How I Survived the Battle of Rosedale!

I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but the traditional 4th of July neighborhood BBQ has turned into a reenactment of the Revolutionary War.  For three hours last night I was bunkered in my bedroom with my cat and four dogs toughing out the sustained neighborhood bombing campaign. The cannon explosions were deafening and the sound of the “8 balls to a clip” musket fire filled the air like recently moistened Rice Krispies. During a break in the action I sneaked out to the corrals to check on my poor horses. A heavy fog of smoke blanketed the battlefield and the horses appeared and disappeared like ghostly apparitions.  Casualties were difficult to determine and included singed eyebrows, second degree burns, and bullet wounds caused by Newton’s Law of Gravity.  The fire crews fought valiantly, losing a single dilapidated shed to the firestorm.  Although I couldn’t see anyone, I could hear the jubilant cry of neighborhood soldiers as they surveyed the carnage and hoisted mugs of hard cider and mash. I even heard one educated combatant raise a toast in honor of Benjamin Franklin, who said, “Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants to see us happy.” I wish Benjamin Franklin simply enjoyed BBQ hamburgers.