were-rabbit, or whatever people get turned into by Harry Potter spells.
We had a really nice July 4, first at a pool party, though I dozed off with the dogs for a little while during the sixth hour of conversation about cycling, and then watching the Cocoa fireworks down by the river. Before and after the big boomers, which of course terrified the little dog, our niece and nephew and our friends and their boy went nuts with sparklers. Ah, the simple joy of flying sparks. Only these days, all the kids were attempting to cast spells out of the “Harry Potter” books as they thrust their sparklers at unseen enemies. Fortunately, I was not turned into a