On Sunday, while cleaning out of hedges (a long, on-going project) Jon found a black bag shoved into the middle of the lilacs that seperate our house from the back alley. Upon further inspection, the black bag was found to contain a shoe box full of dynamite. Yes, you read that right, dynamite (Powerfrac to be exact, complete with fuses and wires). Jon called the cops, the cops called the bomb squad and we got evacuated from our house for the next five hours while the yard was swept, and the offending dynamite burned off. Not only did Jon and I get sent packing, but our block was closed off, the neighbors sent to their basements and all other spectators turned away by the firefighters. If you’ve ever wondered how unstable dynamite is disposed of it involves a hole in your lawn and what looked to us like sawdust. Oh, and the professionals to deal with it all.
Luckily, it all ended well and we were allowed to return to our house (still standing) later in the evening after the bomb squad, the four police cruisers, the EMS SUV and the giant fire truck had cleared off. We’re sure the neighbors (and all the other people who showed up to watch) think something horrific happened at our house over the weekend, but we’re just thankful that nothing really did.