I used to love the 4th. It was a great kid holiday. Where I grew up, the week of the 4th was always fun. Our little town had a carnival every year, the block bbq, the parade and, of course, the fireworks.
Now, though? Hate it. It means at least 4 days of no sleeping. Four days of worrying if something is going to be set on fire. San Jose had three fires last night. Not reported if they were due to fireworks or not but I am pretty sure the brush fire and the wood shake roof fire were due to the boom booms. We had a very light winter rain-wise. Only 7 inches, I think. We are dry, dry, dry. Do folks not think about that?
Happy birthday ‘Merica. Land of the free, home of the people who think they have the right to set their neighbors house on fire?
We celebrated by getting up early to beat the crowds and meet our agility buds at Point Isabel.
Super cool view of the city from there. You have to trust me on this. Maybe if you squint? Was early, still foggy. It is SF, after all.
Poor Willie still not getting any action from the collies.
The poor guy just wants to have a little romp. Totally not understanding why pee on a bush is more interesting than him.
Kate is clearly torn between family and someone holding treats. Flaky that one. Bella, though? Dedicated camera whore. I don’t know why she is standing like a bulldog, though.
Always the same side.
No bending for Kate.
Nothing on Kate bends.
Hope you American folks enjoyed your holiday and you still have all your digits and your house is in one piece.
I am going to take a nap.