The 3rd of July

Who knew that the little town where I live, filled with retirees and military families, was the party hub of California for this holiday weekend? There are dozens of people riding bikes around and shouting, handlebar in one hand and a beer in the other. I like to call these people "douchebags," but you may have a more affectionate term for them.

There's a house party going on in the alleyway behind our place, with a rising rendition of "Another Brick in the Wall" set to techno thumping through the streets. And before that, I believe I heard lyrics with some derivation of "slap my d**k." Neat.

It's not really a bother -- it is a holiday weekend after all, and I'm trying not to be a Scrooge. It's just... I didn't sleep very well last night, and I have a sinus headache. (I seriously have been sick-ish since Memorial Day, but all along it's been that low-grade kind of sick where I've been functioning just fine. I am having a party of my own tomorrow and my sinuses can suck it.) So to indulge myself, I have been wearing mesh gym shorts that I've had since college and a ratty New York City t-shirt that I've had since I was ten. I've made tomato soup and blondies, and I've watched four episodes of Arrested Development and read several chapters of The Help (which is fantastic, btw).

I did actually leave the house this morning to take the dog for a walk, during which we encountered several floats, a couple of antique roadsters, and also some horses. It was... a little surreal.

An old man just walked by wearing salmon-colored trousers and a star-spangled hat. Good for him.

All of this revelry does lead me to wonder if I've been missing out. See, I've never really felt particularly festive regarding the 4th of July. We always went to see fireworks when I was a kid, but that's really all I remember. From what I recall, it's a day like any other until the fireworks at night. And those sparklers -- the kind that are supposed to be safe but actually send little sparks onto to your hands that sting your skin. But apparently the 4th of July is meant to be a weekend of drunken merry-making? I intend to make plenty of merry tomorrow, but for now, I guess I want all the damn party-goers to get off my lawn. That, and for my sinuses to leave me the eff alone already.

Some photos from today: 

Oliver has found another box:

Jack has found the warmest spot in the house:

My Saturday finest:

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to eat my fifth blondie of the day. Happy 3rd!