The 4th

This city rocks at just about everything under the sun but I've gotta admit, I was underwhelmed with it's 4th of July festivities. Let me preface this paragraph with the truth of the matter: It's not you NYC, it's me. Well...it's kind of you. OK, here's the deal.

I think for the most part the 4th of July is a small town sport, made amazing by parades and pancake breakfasts, waving to the Mayor, BBQing with family, and block parties with neighbors lining the street to watch little exploding fireworks purchased at a stand benefiting the local elementary school. We didn't really have any of that this year. OK, none of it darn it! Sure, Macy's hosted an impressive fireworks show over the East River (and even shot fireworks off of the Brooklyn Bridge--wowzers!) but there were over a million people bunched up in pens for hours waiting to see them (yes, Everett somehow talked me into going!) and for honesty sake, it didn't feel all homey and 4th of July-y and stuff. That being said, we did run into a dear, dear friend in those throngs of millions which was kind of magical in and of itself. And even better, her camera wasn't dead (but ours both were) and she just sent me a few fireworks pics, like this one:

The good news of the day was that James made me the most patriotic Belgium waffles in existence, just like I ordered them! And all that stormy wind (yes, the rainiest 4th you can imagine) made for some entertaining kamikaze kite flying down on the Hudson River. Actually, the best part of the day happened as we tucked Everett into bed that night and he said, "Dis was da best Fourf of Juwy I have evoh had!" So, there you go. Our 4th.