I've never really been into the party on the 4th thing. Ever since I was a kid- the notion of BBQ on the fourth of July was like a prison sentence. I always hated being dragged to the neighbors and having to explain my life as a kid to a bunch of drunk adults, who would later throw eachother into a pool. It always meant pork and beans from a can with bacon strips and brown sugar and dry potato salad. Maybe my apathy for the BBQ had something to do with the year my dad helped with the lighting of the fireworks and ran into a pipe and slashed his knee wide open and had to get rushed to the hospital.
I am finally warming to the BBQ as my agoraphobia takes a rest.
LAst night Mr. P and I attended one in Eagle Rock. The house had a yard and ping pong set up across from a gazebo. The sweet street was lined with rows of elegant houses and epic palm trees. Later we walked up the block and overheard dinner being cleared from open windows- a suburban bliss. This would be the perfect block to ride bikes as a kid or choreograph a roller dance routine in the street. I felt house envy for the first time.
Someone always forgets to make the deviled eggs.
I met someone at the party that has an entire web blog about doilies. That's right, she is in process of creating a book. Sometimes the BBQ has a way of bringing you in contact with people you may never have met otherwise.
Her website is : https://ideadujour.blogspot.com/
and she also has something under monstercrotchet. The first thing on her site is an amazing shawl with crotchet steaks and meat treats. She also told me about a local "stitch and bitch" that she has organized with some ladies.
This morning while Mr. P was asleep I noticed he looked like Julius Ceasar. I grabbed a weed from outside and placed it on his head...and magic- he is Marc Antony!