Happy Fire of July

With a healthy dose of holiday, I have had plenty to blog about, but little time to blog. What a fabulous problem!

Yesterday was a great example of why I love the 4th of July. It's a lazy holiday all about having guilt-free fun with people of your choosing. And the biggest gift decision you have to make is what kind of beer to snag. Old Style to be classic, 312 to be local, Corona to be seasonal, or something just random? And the holiday involves optional travel and FIRE.

Still working on why Independence Day = fire (either works or grill). The best I can come up with is that one of the primary ideas in the Bill of Rights is to bear arms, i.e. mini, hand-held explosions. And there was alot of outdoor cooking and explosions in order to procure said independence. Or because nothing says fun like blowing shit up. Which I think is slightly more likely. And fireworks are alot more fun when you aren't shivering.

Woke up extra late yesterday. Caught part of the embarrassing Cubs game (they got spanked by the crappy Nationals). Went home to make ugly deviled eggs. The buggers just wouldn't peel, so they ended up looking like someone had already started nibbling. I operated on the idea that if they were tasty enough, people would eat them no matter how ugly. Which made my perfectionist side twitch, but hey.

Did some grilling at the same place as the Memorial Day BBQ, which has a great deck, wonderful food and an eager beagle puppy. Chatted with some very reasonable vegetarians, talked shop with the dancers, and discussed the charms of Amsterdam. And shared my watermelon with Face (the puppy). Good grillin', amazing fruit (huge raspberries, strawberries, and cherries; dripping sweet honeydew and watermelon). And I got to flip some burgers.

For fireworks, I nearly drove up to Evanston before I realised that I could walk to North Ave Beach and catch them there. I power-walked to the beach so I wouldn't miss anything. Watched people leaving early (freaks), with all their picnic equipment in tow. And these folks were severely equipped. Kept thinking I saw fireworks which were only the lit-up buildings in the trees. Caught some amateur shows with their Indiana supplies of contraband and cool fireworks. And I discovered that the best place to watch fireworks is wading in the water on the beach. I rolled up my pants and waded into the Lake, watching the burb fireworks to the north until the Navy Pier show started at 9.30. All in all, I saw about 5 different displays from the same place. While it didn't have that resounding thump that I love, it was gorgeous. I had plenty of space and the zen of the cool water.

Sadly I was pulled away from my spot by a woman in scrubs looking for her shoes. It only took me a couple of seconds to realise that something was hugely wrong. She had a plastic hospital bracelet on and seemed really paranoid (some hospital had taken her babies away kind of thing). And she didn't really know where she was looking for her shoes. When she enlisted the help of a couple of nice guys, I slipped off to call the police. Tricky to describe the situation when the 911 operator expects some variation on the theme of "I think my hand is on fire".

I wandered back to the water, but by then all the waves me have to pee; the fireworks were over; the spell was broken.

on the iPod: "Tristan and Isolde" - Devon Sproule