Now this is a fireworks display. Independence Day was done right -- only able to blog about now that we've arrived back in Tuckahoe. RoseAnne and Joe hosted it: boys in the pool, Vito at the television, and meat on the grill.

And take a look at the advanced state of yesterday's grill... Focaccia on top, warming with the burgers... Ribs center rack, going on their fourth or fifth hour of slow, slow cooking... And of course, the sausage on the main heat.

Yeah, yeah, there are some hot dogs there too for the women and children.

Also on the menu were sunglasses. Lots of them. Did Odd Job have a sale? Or did a dump-truck full of sunglasses overturn in Vito's general vicinity? Whatever the origin, he arrived loaded with dozens of the friggin' things.

Distributing them gave him something to do between innings of the final game of the Mets' sweep over the Yankees (sunglasses were useful in this regard -- to protect one's eyes from the glare of Vito's white-hot cuss-words). We all left with several pairs of shades -- there were so many styles to choose from!

Anyway, I don't want to keep us stuck on the dream thread -- but I do suspect I'll be dreaming about those ribs for the next few weeks. Because they were the answer. Joe put those baby-backs on at low heat at around noon. They were in foil at first. Then we peeled that back. Later, the foil came off entirely. And for the last bit of cooking, the sauce went on. I gotta remember that technique. It worked out quite well.

Evening Update: I'm sitting here watching VH1 Classic, enjoying the 80s hair, and on comes the video for Cory Hart's "Sunglasses at Night." Very un-nerving. And of course, it reminded me of Vito. Who wears his sunglasses at night. In the morning. And in the P.O.