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One night each year my gentle, soft-spoken, peace-loving husband turns into a total pyromaniac. That night is the Fourth of July.

The preparations start about three weeks ahead of the grand day when we take a 40 mile drive to the fireworks superstore. I admit to enjoying the exuberant, graphic art of the fireworks packaging. Names such as “Tears in Heaven” and “Fishbowl Commotion” are intriguing. But that’s not the real reason I tag along. I go to make sure my spouse doesn’t buy anything he can’t lift.

He’s happy as a cat at a mouse convention making his selections. He’s also serious about getting the most bang for his buck… literally. Wimpy little cherry bombs and sparklers are not on his shopping list.

The size of our purchases always entitles us to a “free” gift or two. That’s how we acquired more beach balls than a Sandals Resort, numerous T-Shirts that say “Light Me Up” and a case of 100 Super-Charged Crackers. (How we disposed of these is a separate story.)

You are all invited to the glorious show. Just bring your folding chairs, blankets and marshmallows down to our beach at dusk on the Fourth.

My husband used to provide one solid hour of non-stop aerial wonders until I gently reminded him that most people might find this a bit much. So he cut back the show to a half hour and tripled the size of the displays.

I can only hope that the garage doesn’t blow-up before the big night.

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I don’t make a habit of driving my husband crazy. But, occasionally, I cannot resist playing my moon game.

“Hey honey,” I say as we are as we are looking at the moon together, “what’s the moon doing tonight?”

Silence follows. He’s too smart to fall into this trap again. He has no idea what the moon is doing. “That’s OK,” I gently say, “it’s a girl thing… la Luna, monthly, menses. By the way, the moon is waxing (or waning) tonight.”

My husband is a science guy. He is far brainier than I am about astronomy, chemistry and physics. But, I know my moon.

It’s easy ladies:

1. Look up at the moon.
2. If the left side is lighted up it’s losing or waning.
3. If the right side is lighted up it’s waxing or increasing.

Few men believe these rules work, but the system is foolproof! So go ahead, drive your guy crazy. After all, it is our moon.

As usual, Shakespeare has it exquisitely right; Midsummer Night’s Eve is a magical time. Those of us who live in the northern latitudes also know Midsummer as a glorious, cosmic reality not a dream.

The apex of our star, the sun, will occur this Thursday, June 21. It’s time to take our cue from the Scandinavians, experts in Midsummer revelry, and celebrate!

My most memorable Midsummer’s night was spent in Sweden at a wedding. The bride was radiant, the wedding was in a real castle (complete with moat), the sky was luminous at 11:30PM and everyone involved was still speaking at 1:30AM.

Wherever you are in the Northern Hemisphere, the time has come to buy some bottles of Riesling or bubbly stuff and a case of strawberries. Drag the kitchen table and chairs outside. Invite the neighbors over to watch the sun go down at its highest northern point. (In our case the telephone pole to the right of our neighbor’s barn). Any children present can be put to work weaving flower crowns. Toast the longest day.

Of course it’s all downhill from here. We’ll be losing one minute of daylight each day from now until the winter solstice. But for now, consider your glass half full, or, better yet, fill your glass to the brim. Just don’t fill it so many times you feel like a donkey head the first full day of summer.

Wedding planning is only slightly more pleasant than walking through an active minefield. This goes for everybody involved, but I’ll focus on the parents of the happy couple.

The role of the bride’s parents is simplicity itself. “Keep your mouths shut and your checkbook open.”

A dear friend informed me of the protocol for the groom’s mother. “Keep your mouth closed and wear beige.” Experience proved she was right on target.

I offer this advice for the father of the groom. Since the groom’s father is totally irrelevant to the wedding planning process, it is best he take a vacation to Mars. That would be far enough away so he won’t have to hear his spouse cry, rant or do both simultaneously.

Everyone involved should focus on two goals for the wedding day. First, that none of the participants break down in hysterical sobs, and, second, that everyone is still speaking to one another when the last dance rolls around.

Our wedding day is not the best day of our life. If it were, the next 50+ years of marriage would be all downhill, an extremely depressing thought.

We cannot plan, program, anticipate or buy the best days. They arrive spontaneously and unrehearsed. The trick is to recognize these special days when they strike.

1. What is your political party?
2. Do you like to go camping?
3. Do you enjoy oatmeal?
4. What do you do with your socks after you take them off at night?