For the past eight summers, we have celebrated the Fourth of July at the lake.
Ella, 7 months
And her great-grandmother, Phoofsy, 80-something but always game for having fun.
Annie, 7 months; Ella, 2.5 years
Our annual celebratory cake.
3.5 and 5.5, and a lot of orange soda
and last year, 7.5 and 5.5,
on a day so blisteringly hot, they were already melting by the time this was taken.
Today marks the first time in over 30 years that our annual neighborhood picnic won’t occur… but I’m sure we’ll find ways to celebrate, nevertheless. And at least we’ll have the entire cake to ourselves – which, in a way, totally exemplifies the American dream.
Happy Independence Day, America!
(And happy birthday to some of my bestest friends in the world.)
You’re looking mighty spiffy for 237.
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