Witnessed at my (in-laws') hometown fourth of July parade:
a marching regiment of veterans, calling out their wartime service in a cadence (think every Army movie you've every seen). It was kind of eerie - I can't quite explain why, and I feel a little silly saying that, but there it is.
a low-rider pickup truck full of Mexicans, blaring "Born in the USA." I thought that was really cool - the total opposite of everyone's perception.
more fat people than I think I've ever seen in a single place in my life. We're talking fat, people. A woman claiming to be nine months pregnant with a belly that didn't look noticeably bigger than the rest of her, a man whose belly hung between his knees, people wearing clothes that they totally should *not* have been wearing. A true testament to the American dream. Ew.
dozens of people standing *in* the street, not on the grass or sidewalk, but in the street, with big plastic bags to scavenge candy. Since when did people start going to parades just to scam the free stuff, instead of enjoying the celebration of drunken hometown patriotic Americana bullshit like the rest of us red-blooded Americans? Pissed me off.
the Bear's first sunburn. Oh, God, I'm the world's worst mother. I let her get a sunburn. I'm going to hell. What if it hurts her? Both of my parents have had skin cancer, and I'm firmly convinced that I will, too, but I swore they were going to be safer. They've got tans, don't get me wrong, and they play outside, but it's the burning that will kill you. And I swore I'd never let them burn, not as long as I was in charge of their well-being. And I failed. If she grows up to get skin cancer, it will be all my fault.
In related news, it's interesting to watch how the girls are growing by how their bodies change. Not in an Are You There, God? kind of way, sicko. They're just transforming from babies into real little people. When they were tiny, I used to love how smooth they were, how soft, how unblemished. Perfectly whole - no scars, no tan lines, no calluses, just perfectly smooth, round, soft babies.
I was putting them to bed last night after their bath, and it struck me how much they've grown. They've left that stage behind, even Tank. The Bear has a killer skinned knee, complete with crusty nasty scab all over. Her legs are so long and skinny, she looks like a daddy longlegs. Tank has cuts and bruises everywhere, as usual. They both have farmer's tans in odd places, and raggedy fingernails. Bear's toenails are painted a garish sparkly pink, and Tank's are a shocking metallic greenish-blue. It's funny, but the colors seem to suit their personalities. But still, babies don't wear fingernail polish! Where are my babies?!
We're off to laze in the pool and eat steak. Hope you enjoy your celebration of our independence from the British, those tea-drinking pansies. Go blow up some Chinese pyrotechnics in honor of the occasion.