Does the 4th of July have an octave?

Well, it's in the novus ordo calendar with its own Mass.  It might, you know.  If it does, we're in the third day of it.

You will no doubt be delighted to learn that the ancestral manse has survived without a scratch our annual American orgy of patriotic pyromania.   This city does permit the safe-and-sane variety of fireworks (who comes up with these toe-curling descriptions, anyway?) and the evening of the 4th was filled with light and sound and the smell of gunpowder.  The grumpy side of me does hate to admit it but they are kind of fun to watch.

But the neighbourhood also has its fair share of the illegal variety which seems to consist entirely of small explosive devices.  And there's always one happy reveler who feels the need to set off a few at three in the morning.  Once I peel myself off the ceiling I can usually go back to sleep but on the whole I'd just as soon they didn't do that.  And I do hope none of the celebrants blew off any fingers.  (Yes, of course that's a real hope.  You're very cynical.)