First, we only had one kiddo with us. I thought I'd lose her to friends, but teens are awful at planning ahead of time. This time, it worked to my advantage. D3 stayed home. The others were out and about.
Next, Doc H was on call. I didn't know if he'd be around or operating.
Yet, in case he was home, I had to cook something he'd eat. Currently, (in addition to juicing) he's trying to eliminate meat. *What?! No meat?!*
No lamb, either.
No BBQ. That's right...no Fourth of July BBQ. Sac-relig and Anti-American, if you ask me.
Furthermore, we had no fireworks. Our city is in debt. Fireworks were cut from the budget. I don't think that needs any further explanation.
But, wait! Let me tell you what we did have:
A cold dinner. A pasta and a green salad. Nothing warm on the plate. I suppose that would sound just fine to the majority of the continental U.S. where record temps are being shattered and women everywhere are pooling sweat in their brassieres.
The quickest Fourth of July dinner ever recorded: 3.18 minutes. We scarfed our dinner down quicker than the new hot dog eating champion.
Illegal fireworks. All night long, we heard them echoing through the neighborhood.
A dog convulsing from firework terror. For hours, our dog shook uncontrollably. She shook as she sat next to me. Her shakes resonated through my body. Oddly, I recognized that feeling... What was it? When have I experienced such an unsettling feeling? Oh, yes. Now, I recall. It's my ass. It's the way my ass shakes and jiggles when I run.
The Fourth was not with us this year. Hopefully, next.