Here's to You, America
Happy belated, America! Sorry I’m such a flake and missed my chance at wishing you a happy birthday yesterday. I was too busy stuffing my face with hot dogs, whoopie pies and watermelon. And playing baseball, your favorite pastime. I was going to write a quick post about how awesome you are, but then it was time for sparklers.
Sorry I missed out on the well-wishing, but at least I was celebrating with all your favorite things: burgers, baseball and gunpowder. Think you can forgive me?
B and I went up to New Hampshire yesterday to spend the 4th with his fam. His mom is the original hostess with the mostess. I hope one day I can entertain on her level. That’s really a pipe dream though, b/c I don’t see myself ever liking to cook or welcoming people in my home to track dirt all over my clean floors. But it’s nice to dream, right? That’s what this country was built on; the impossible dreams of people like me.
We picked up some mini-wieners and crescent rolls to make my specialty: mini-wieners wrapped in crescent rolls. Some people call them pigs in a blanket. Whatever they are, they’re super easy and delish. And anything wrapped up in anything else looks all difficult when it’s really not (jello w/ fruit cocktail, I’m looking at you), so you come off looking like a gourmet chef.
There were all sorts of entrees, an endless variety of salads, and enough dessert to put Mike’s Pastry to shame. Don’t worry, I didn’t let all the options get the best of me. I only had two helpings of potato salad and stuck with light beer. Okay, that’s a lie. The potato salad was crazy good and I ate like half the bowl. But I didn’t drink at all, so I figured that opened up a whole other area of my stomach usually reserved for barley.
After lunch, B, his sister and I went to a nearby park to have a catch. We were sweating just sitting around in the shade, so imagine what some time in the sun running around chasing pop flies looked like. Actually, please don’t imagine it. It wasn’t pretty. I was sluggish after my hot dog eating fiasco and had the pork sweats in addition to the 90+ temps and humidity. It was worth it, though. I hadn’t played in a long time. B and I definitely need to add gloves and a softball to our impressive recreational collection, which currently consists entirely of a basketball and Uno. And maybe a Frisbee or two.
Storms were predicted pretty much off and on all day, but the weather held out. It was hot, and I was honestly hoping for a quick shower just to break the humidity, but it was dry all day. Which was fine with us; after our rendezvous at the park, we set up shop inside the air-conditioned house with round two of dessert.
Just after it got dark, we went into the backyard to set off sparklers. Fireworks are illegal to buy in New York, so I never played with them growing up. I didn’t see what the big deal was. But after playing in the backyard for over half an hour until our sparkler and popper collection was exhausted, I have only one thing to say: Governor Cuomo, you are stealing the childhood of kids across New York.
Have you ever written your name in a fiery sparkler against the velvety background of a summer night? Have you ever pretended you were a fairy, waving your sparkling wand through the air and casting spells across the garden? Have you ever stepped on a popper that didn’t go off when it hit the ground and instead exploded underneath your shoe?
If not, you really should consider stepping up your game for next year. What other chance will you have to ignite flammable objects and wave them in your boyfriends' face, all in the name of independence? Well, I guess you can do that whenever you want; but he might not be so forgiving with severe burns if it’s not a holiday.
Sorry I missed out on the well-wishing, but at least I was celebrating with all your favorite things: burgers, baseball and gunpowder. Think you can forgive me?
B and I went up to New Hampshire yesterday to spend the 4th with his fam. His mom is the original hostess with the mostess. I hope one day I can entertain on her level. That’s really a pipe dream though, b/c I don’t see myself ever liking to cook or welcoming people in my home to track dirt all over my clean floors. But it’s nice to dream, right? That’s what this country was built on; the impossible dreams of people like me.
We picked up some mini-wieners and crescent rolls to make my specialty: mini-wieners wrapped in crescent rolls. Some people call them pigs in a blanket. Whatever they are, they’re super easy and delish. And anything wrapped up in anything else looks all difficult when it’s really not (jello w/ fruit cocktail, I’m looking at you), so you come off looking like a gourmet chef.
There were all sorts of entrees, an endless variety of salads, and enough dessert to put Mike’s Pastry to shame. Don’t worry, I didn’t let all the options get the best of me. I only had two helpings of potato salad and stuck with light beer. Okay, that’s a lie. The potato salad was crazy good and I ate like half the bowl. But I didn’t drink at all, so I figured that opened up a whole other area of my stomach usually reserved for barley.
After lunch, B, his sister and I went to a nearby park to have a catch. We were sweating just sitting around in the shade, so imagine what some time in the sun running around chasing pop flies looked like. Actually, please don’t imagine it. It wasn’t pretty. I was sluggish after my hot dog eating fiasco and had the pork sweats in addition to the 90+ temps and humidity. It was worth it, though. I hadn’t played in a long time. B and I definitely need to add gloves and a softball to our impressive recreational collection, which currently consists entirely of a basketball and Uno. And maybe a Frisbee or two.
Storms were predicted pretty much off and on all day, but the weather held out. It was hot, and I was honestly hoping for a quick shower just to break the humidity, but it was dry all day. Which was fine with us; after our rendezvous at the park, we set up shop inside the air-conditioned house with round two of dessert.
Just after it got dark, we went into the backyard to set off sparklers. Fireworks are illegal to buy in New York, so I never played with them growing up. I didn’t see what the big deal was. But after playing in the backyard for over half an hour until our sparkler and popper collection was exhausted, I have only one thing to say: Governor Cuomo, you are stealing the childhood of kids across New York.
Have you ever written your name in a fiery sparkler against the velvety background of a summer night? Have you ever pretended you were a fairy, waving your sparkling wand through the air and casting spells across the garden? Have you ever stepped on a popper that didn’t go off when it hit the ground and instead exploded underneath your shoe?
If not, you really should consider stepping up your game for next year. What other chance will you have to ignite flammable objects and wave them in your boyfriends' face, all in the name of independence? Well, I guess you can do that whenever you want; but he might not be so forgiving with severe burns if it’s not a holiday.
Comments
Sparklers on birthday cake is genius!