Me (in the kitchen): What was that?
T (on the couch): I think that was a gun shot...beelining for the gun (which was inconveniently unloaded from his morning at the shooting range).
Me: That sounds like it’s right outside…walking toward the sliding glass door (genius!)
Me: Ooooh, pretty – T, it’s just fireworks!
Author’s Note: Yes, we live in the wild west – we grocery shop with cowboys, we own a gun and we have neighbors that shoot off illegal fireworks in their backyard. Dorothy, I don’t think I’m in Seattle anymore.