I grew up eating watermelon and shooting fireworks on the Fourth of July, but when I married Dennis, I was introduced to another brand of Independence Day festivities. What could be more exciting than watermelon and fireworks, you ask? Catfish and turtle races. Every year, the fine people at the church Dennis grew up in host a catfish fry and turtle race to celebrate the Fourth of July. It's always an event to remember. Not only is the catfish amazing {so I hear, I'm not a catfish connoisseur}, the turtle race is also a source of delight for both kids and adults.

The hunt for turtles begins weeks before the race. In years past, my father-in-law has been known to drag the pond to catch a slew of turtles. For a couple of years, the Jones family supplied many a kid in Cato with a turtle to enter in the race. We always had a winner, since we held a couple of practice rounds in the yard before we headed off to the race.

That's not cheating, is it??

But this year, there was no pond dragging. Micah and her cousins had one turtle to share between them. Lauren (my niece) dubbed him Rufus. We painted his name on his back, loaded him in a bucket, and headed off to church, sure that he would give the other turtles a run for their money.

Not so. Rufus didn't move. At all. The race began, and other turtles scurried to the edge of the circle. But not Rufus. He stayed put. Never moved a muscle.