Another Fourth of July, another disaster of epic proportions.
It’s Wednesday afternoon, we’ve spent a fun day of putting on our neighborhood July 4 parade, then relaxing by the pool, and Trish the Dish has mixed up her concoction that produces fabulous homemade Butterfinger ice cream.
I stood sentry, with the bag of ice, delicately surrounding the freezer when called upon, and the Dish has been dutifully turning the cylinder to get it in motion, eventually to be charged by the electricity. And it spins a half turn, then stops. We repeat. Instigation by the Dish, spins a half turn, then stops.