Love Hate July 4th
Mostly, I love the 4th of July. Celebrating my favorite country on the planet is great. Patriotism without Fox News shoving it down anyone’s free-thinking throat. I like the geeky patriotic sousa marches. It’s a fine country in which I’ve traveled to 48 of the 50 states allowed. Independence Day is not the only day we show patriotism, but it is the day we celebrate being Americans. Solidarity. Being together. I don’t understand the cranky people who lament that the holiday has been hijacked into something bad. It’s like saying the cake doesn’t taste good because you put sprinkles on it. Get over yourself already. It’s the 4th of July for crying out loud!
The fireworks always make me giddy and I sigh like I’m close to climax when the really awesome multiple firework orgasm lights up the sky. I like the food and camaraderie associated with the holiday: picnics, homemade casseroles, salads, fresh fruit and veggies, watermelon, BBQ, sweets, hamburgers, hot dogs, ice cream. Anything that could leave a wicked stain on your white shorts but blend in with your red shirt. I love cavorting with neighbors and friends. Ice cold beer. I like beer a lot. The smell of the grill, sweat, sunscreen, fire powder, freshly baked desserts. I always don Independence Day attire to get my 4th of July groove on. I like sparklers and lame fireworks that cost $75 at the “Clearance! Everything Must Go!” Fireworks Stand just outside of town that provides five minutes of uninterrupted entertainment. Strangely, I also love the snap & crackle you hear every so often in your otherwise quiet neighborhood for days leading up to the official holiday. I like to think someone is getting to extend their fun. I live in the city and I don’t have pets that lose their hair hearing the explosions. Also, I don’t have to worry about some yokel burning down my house by setting off his fireworks in the field next to my homestead.
But then I hate July 4th. The only part of the 4th I don’t like is the cursed heat that normally accompanies it. Or maybe it’s the bugs and bug screen I despise the most. I also get panicky in huge crowds of people. It’s annoying to sit on blankets in damp grass that your tax dollars paid to be mowed every week but it’s been three. The 4th of July is the one day of the year that all the parks should all have freshly mown grass. If I never ever hear Lee Greenwood God Bless The USA, it will be too soon. Really. I’d rather poke my eardrums with a scalding hot poker. Though I might save the hot poker for Miley Cyrus’ Party In The USA. Also, keeping the kids up hours past their bedtime and off to a normally starting day on July 5th is the worst. That totally blows. The post-firework cranky attitude usually overshadows the pre-firework exuberant attitude. Remember the part after the fireworks are over and you are counting the steps to your car parked a mile away? You fantasize about the precious, precious air conditioning that awaits you and will accompany you for the thirty minute crawling drive out of downtown with 30,000 of your closest stupid-ass inebriated friends.
I’m sorry? What was I saying about loving the 4th of July holiday?