4th

By far and away the best holiday for living in the Midwest is the 4th of July.
We eat. We blow stuff up.
We throw caution and calories to the wind. No matter the wind speed – or the weather – we will celebrate our independence. (One year we postponed Halloween for snow but we have NEVER postponed the 4th – because people would just blow stuff up that day – and the next.)

Hot dogs, homemade ice cream, fountains and Roman candles so large they give a grown man a 'kick-back'. And this year – aerials were legal with in city limits... sure the first year I have a garage roof to worry about!

It is almost as if the more 'cultured' states know they are missing out too. As Jessica says, “I know you are out there blowing stuff up while we in Portland are still sipping our espresso out of bowls like the French.” Yep... and Jude – at 5 – is an ol' pro.

The fun started Friday night – the night before fireworks were legal and we happened across our neighbors blowing some stuff up at 11:30 as we were cleaning out our mudding trays in the back yard. After a few small explosions we moseyed over to another neighbor's dumpster to look at an abandoned bike. As a policeman pulled to a stop in the alley and asked, “Were you lighting off fireworks?” Paul turns – punk and ammunition in hand and says, “No, we were just looking at this old bike.”
To which the policeman, somewhat confused says, “You know you do have a punk and firework in your hand.” Ah... the holiday that turns us all into teenagers again.

Saturday was the first official party with a great little BBQ over at Megan and Paul's (I am sure you will hear more about them since we 'happenstance' will be living next door to my best friend from childhood when they get married next month!) (P.S. Thanks guys for NOT having hot dogs – 4 meals in a row – was plenty.) We supplied the homemade ice cream with Red and blue chunks. It was my first time to make it all by myself – since Jarod was busy holding sick little lucy with a 105 temp.

Sunday, we kept our tradition of hot dogs, music, and a second batch of homemade ice cream at the old Fort with all of the guys and Jarod's parents... that is until Lucy puked. While hauling the ice for the ice cream bucket – Jude looked at me in all seriousness and asked, “Now why don't we buy this at the store?”

Our Romanian friends similarly commented on Monday night at Paul's birthday, saying that mine doesn't have as much cream. Maybe it isn't as good – maybe it is all in my head – but my head tells me that 4 nights in a row wouldn't be a bad idea :). We also finished of Merle and Toni's fireworks at their third, final, and ONLY fireworks show that didn't get shut down by the police. Thanks for keeping it G rated for the kids guys!



(Some of the costume's at Paul's B-day party)




Merle in his element



Oh, and lest you think we haven't been in the basement between explosions and traditional gorging, I have written a little poem. Jarod continually reminds me of the power of semantics... the importance of rewording to change a perception – so I gave it a shot – can words turn pure hate to something lovely and liberating? You judge for yourself:

Oh, my basement walls
how I touch you, caress you
again and again
peeling your wrapping, layer by layer
that I may know you fully
See you bare before me.
One day – you will be undone
And I will be free.