Well, I'm back home. We actually got back Wednesday late afternoon, but I haven't been good for anything at all since we finished packing up the truck after the show. My feet felt like two solid blocks of concrete at the end of my legs when we dragged our sorry selves up to the hotel room just before midnight the night of the 4th. We ached so badly everywhere that we couldn't sleep. So we just laid there and tried to let our bodies recover. There are three nights a year that I take Tylenol PM, pain reliever and sleep aid. July 3rd, 4th and 5th. But even with the Tylenol PM, sleep was not easy coming to me after the show.

This year was at least 20 degrees hotter than any other year we've been at this site. Two of us, our pyro photographer friend and myself, are very susceptible to the heat and both of us came very close to heat stroke on the 3rd. My BL ended up speaking sternly to both of us, telling us to stay in the shade and quit pushing ourselves so hard. So she and I stopped helping build the troughs and started doing shell count and inventory. We found a rather major problem and it turned out to be a very good thing that we had been assigned to stay in the shade doing this task.

Because we caught the problem in time, we were able to correct it which enabled us to work in the shade the rest of the day. We got done on the 3rd about 4:30 in the afternoon. Everybody headed to their hotel rooms and some ice cold air conditioning for a few hours. We met together for a meal my BL hosts each year -- this year at the Souplantation, which is a magnificent salad bar plus desert bar, pasta bar and soup bar after you get through the extensive salad line. Of course, our crew is encouraged to bring their family with them for the meal, and when we got everybody in line, when the first person in line was at the end, my BL and I were still at the beginning of the salad line. It was funny to see this whole line of people taking up one entire side of the salad bar and know that all of them were our people.

We started early on the day of the 4th because of the problem my friend and I had discovered. We actually had hoped to be able to work in the cool of the morning, correcting the numbering of the shells that had been done incorrectly. No such luck. BL and I got there at 8:30 and the rest of the crew got there at 9. It was already so hot by 9 a.m. that we were literally dripping sweat, sitting under our shade tents. By 2 in the afternoon, when we broke for a barbecue lunch, we were almost done dropping and loading the shells. By 4:30 we were done with what was left, completely tested, and ready to go.

Some of the crew had brought blankets, and laid them down in the shade that the cars made. Many crew members could be seen lying down on the blankets, sleeping for several hours. Some of us, however, were expected to be more of a hostess / public relations person (guess who I'm talking about...) and greeted our guests and visiting "dignitaries". We had given guest passes to the pyro area to the general manager of our hotel and his family, to several of my BL's business contacts, and other assorted people. All of these people had to be greeted, welcomed, and made to feel as if there was nothing more important than them for at least fifteen minutes.

Finally it was time for the show. I was the spotter on the south safe zone boundary again this year, which entails walking back and forth along the boundary making sure no smoldering debris touched ground (or spectators) or had a chance to catch fire. It's not a bad spot to be in for the show. Even though you do have to be watching the falling debris, you still get to see some of the show. The best part about it is that you're right next to the spectators, so you're the person who hears their comments during the show, and enjoy being able to hear the applause and cheering best after the show.

But it's 18 minutes more on your feet as well. And of course, after the show there's the tear down. OY! All the work you've done over the past 2 days is undone in less than 3 hours, if you're lucky. We tore down the troughs, cleaned out the guns, folded up the strips, and carefully crated the modules and firing panel. Then we packed up the truck as neatly as it came to us, and put all the garbage in one place next to the trash receptacle that had been provided to us. We were done with tear down by 11:32 - and I don't think a single one of us could have lifted so much as a safety pin by the time we were done.

Of course, we did eventually get to sleep, and we didn't even begin to move until 10 the next morning. By noon we were at our favorite breakfast spot with those of our crew who had stayed over. (Yes, some of our crew actually drove home after tear down - 2 hours back to San Diego - because they had to work the next day. I have no idea how they managed that -- all I can figure is youth has its privileges.) But we had breakfast at noon on the 5th with those who had stayed, and then we headed back south. We had twelve shells left over (out of a 593 shell show, which is really not bad) so we had to drive the truck back with the explosives sign on it - and drive very carefully.

We literally got home and crawled straight into bed. Eventually we got up and went out for food. The next day, we somehow found the strength and energy to get the truck cleaned out and stuff stored in the garage downstairs, then out for another meal. Since then, we've basically done nothing more than shower, eat, sleep, rinse and repeat. I woke up feeling a bit better today.

I know we have to do the Seaworld show tomorrow so I'm just not pushing myself at all. My feet have returned, thank God because I really hated trying to move around with those concrete blocks at the ends of my legs. Monday I'll get back to work. Today I'm still trying to come back to life.

I have three pictures for my Q Buds. Click each one to see it full sized. The first is a shot of the shells that I dedicated to those of us who have declared our independence from smoking. They were "twin" shells, meaning they would go up into the air at exactly the same time, break at exactly the same time, and look exactly the same. Here's what they looked like before we put them in the guns:

Those are five inch shells, the biggest we had on the show. The next pic is a shot that one of our crew members took... my friend, the gal who was having the heat stroke with me, is a great photographer. She got a picture of the very first shot of the show - it's so beautiful:

Isn't that just gorgeous? She does so well! And, fortunately, she was also able to catch the dedicated shells right as they broke in the sky together...

I'm going to try to make it to the Friday Night Bonfire -- so I better finish this up. If anybody from the Q is reading this -- I'm flattered! LOL! Really, pyro is boring to most people.

But celebrating our independence from nicotine addiction is never boring.