Still celebrating?

Of course you are.

Unless you’re, like, Canadian. And then you’re probably…not.

Or are you?

My husband has the day off today and as such we are in the camp of those still celebrating. He’s at the gun club as I type, celebrating his freedom & independence (and not mention, the 2nd Amendment) with his buddies.

(He’s got his guns and I got my blog. We’re mutually tolerant that way.)

When he gets back it’s my turn to run an errand. I want to make a blueberry pie for supper and am plum out of berries. (Ha.) Oh, and did you see these super cute Rice Krispie stars? The girls and I hope to make those, too, provided I track down some red & blue sprinkles.

Why? you ask. Because we’re Still Celebrating.

We’re Americans. It’s what we do.

The block party that we hosted on Saturday went pretty well, I thought. Having canvassed the neighborhood with dozens of invites and received…um…a grand total of three RSVPs, I had no idea how many people would show up. When in doubt, cook big! And so I did and it was fine.

We have a bunch of really nice neighbors. It’s always good to get together.

It was George’s first real 4th of July celebration. He was unafraid of the great big booms and in fact, clapped politely at the end of each detonation.

(Did you know that my husband’s a pyromaniac? That, too, was written into our marriage vows: to have and to hold, to love and to honor, and to let my husband blow things up.)

When he wasn’t observing all the sparklers and smoke bombs, George took it upon himself to uproot the flags that we’d planted around the yard. This was his personal contribution to the décor, calling it “messy chic” and assuring me that this was all the fashion on Fifth Avenue.

“But we live on 77th Street,” I protested.

Not that he cared.

And so it is that with friends & family, face paint & freeze pops, we continue to celebrate our great nation.

God bless America?

How we pray that He does.

AMDG,