Cadence’s eyes don’t waver from Sponge Bob, except to pick at the torn pleather of the couch.  Cartoon time is just about over.  Her hand rests over the wings of a butterfly design on her shirt.  According to her, it’s just a “bug”, no different than the flies that clutter our windows.

The thought of a free night lightens each breath I take.  Two big dinners, two days in a row has robbed me of the little energy my body has reserved.  Pathetic or can I blame pregnancy?

A clip of remembered conversation cures my relief.  Tonight is the American Idol concert I agreed to attend.  The clip of conversation was when Dad secured a pick up time.  I wonder why I agreed.  I don’t watch American Idol anymore; it bores me.  Whose ticket am I taking?  What other soul did they persuade into going, only to have him come to his senses before D Day?

Cadence climbs onto my shoulders, alternating between kicking my shoulder and kicking my face with her freakishly flexible toddler leg.  I remember why I agreed to go.  Tonight is a child free night.  Tonight I take a break from my 24hr job.  That’s incentive enough.

As of March Jake and I discovered the financial pros of signing up with SunRocket, an internet phone service or VoIP telephone company. We figured we could cancel our cell phones, since Jake was getting one for work, and I am usually at home, and we would add the SunRocket phone as our home phone. We haven’t had a home line since our first year of marriage. We paid for a year upfront. Two hundred dollars turned out to be around $17 dollars a month, and with free long distance. Thought we were pretty smart.

SunRocket is filing for bankruptcy now. We have no recourse for the amount we paid, and the past few days we haven’t been consistently able to make outbound calls from our SunRocket phone. Now our inbound calls are also unreliable. We received no notice from SunRocket about their financial demise, had no idea we would need to find another phone service.

Bottom line: Think twice before paying for a year of service with an VoIP telephone company.

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The Fourth of July horizon sparkles with illegal fireworks and the celebration of various city parks.  Our own meager stash is diluted with the boring sorts that are allowed here; the most exciting of those are the fountains.  Jake frees a handful of bottle rockets from our secret out-of-state supplies.  Artillery shells burst over our heads from the next street over as Jake loads an artillery shell launcher with a bottle rocket.  He holds it slightly over his head, the bottle rocket angling out of the tube.  The fuse sizzles.

“Hold it straighter,” Jake’s father calls.

Jake shifts his hand, protesting that it is straight.  The bottle rocket is still angled in the tube, but it’s too late.  It shoots from the tube and veers across the street.  A stream of light disappears behind a neighbor’s house.  The group gathered at our doorstep holds its breath as the bottle rocket bursts, the garage windows brightening for a moment.  Our gazes stay on the house, until we can convince ourselves nothing is wrong.

Jake lights off a second bottle rocket, careful to keep it perfectly straight.

Jake’s father says something about a new light through the garage windows.  He thinks something is on fire.  Jake runs across the street, closely trailed by a younger brother.  They work like two firemen around the ring of flaming grass, and soon the danger is gone, leaving a six foot diameter of charred grass.

Fifteen minutes later, our pile of bottle rockets sits neglected in the garage as a fire engine approaches.