Happy Birthday, America!

          I kind of love the Fourth of July. 

          I do not love the loud firecrackers just yards away, that scare my pets to the point of distraction and make me run through the house to find them before they leave surprises under my bed, which I wrote about here, nor do I love the sweltering heat that manages to engulf my town this time of year.

          But I love the Star Spangled Banner.  It’s my very favorite song and I cry every single time I hear it. I love the story of how it came to be written and I love the way strangers stand together with their hands over their hearts whenever it is played. 

          I love the Declaration of Independence, paintings of our Founding Fathers, Old Glory, and every veteran who ever served to protect freedom.  Anywhere.

          I love a flag raising, a free pancake breakfast like the one my church is serving today, outdoor barbecues and picnics (with pie!), little kids pedaling decorated tricycles, brass bands in a gazebo, and sparkly fireworks blooming against a starry sky.  I love seeing elderly people dressed up in all the red-white-and-blue they can find, and wish young people did the same.

          And so today I salute every person who came to America for freedom, every descendant of the same, and everyone who stands with us for liberty and justice for all.  

          Now go sing the Star Spangled Banner, all four verses. Out loud. Be grateful for those who made your life possible. If you live in another country, come visit me and we'll sing it, then join me for a slice of pie.

And take a look-see at my youtube videos here, where you’ll learn all kinds of life skills that will make you enjoy this lucky life of yours even more.

         

Rethinking My Love of Cats

How was your Fourth of July?  Here is how mine went:

1. I do not get to attend my friend's blowout, over-the-top, fantastic celebration because she lives on Lakeside Golf Course in Toluca Lake where they have a huge fireworks show, and I live 7 hours away in Rocklin. Not on a golf course.

2. I also do not get to attend the other phenomenal celebration of another friend of mine who actually lives just a few blocks away because St. Bob has to work all day. This family is famous for its smoker barbecue, killer steak rubs, and mounds of chocolate, all of which I miss. And not in that order.

3. It is a sizzling 112 degrees in Rocklin, so I do not barbecue so much as a hotdog.  Everything is already barbecuing anyway-- the plants, for example, right before my eyes.

4. But here's when it gets exciting.  At 9 pm, like everywhere, the fireworks begin.  Residents of our neighborhood thoughtfully chose the LOUDEST firecrackers they could find, ten times louder than the usual ones.  Mickey, of course, runs through the house barking, but this time Simon (our assassin cat, remember?)  loses it.  He runs through the house howling, hunching over, and scratching the carpet. I know what this means, so I chase him upstairs and down FOUR TIMES and put him outside each time, at which point he dashes back in through the doggie door even though it is a DOGGIE door, and even though I am trying to block the flap with my foot.

5.  Finally he rockets upstairs and dives under my bed. Still howling. I fall to my knees and pull up the dust ruffle to pull him out of there, but I am too late.  A HUMONGOUS pile of cat poop is under my side of the bed (of course), REEKING.  Bob's wrist is in a cast so he cannot help me move this heavy, cast iron, king-sized bed.  I am sweating from all this chasing around already, but now I have to move the bed alone, sweat even more, and then clean up the carpet, spray odor abatement stuff all over, and take the entire disaster scene out to the trash.  Simon is sitting a few feet away, watching like he had nothing to do with it.

  6. Bob makes a comment about the fireworks literally scaring the you-know-what out of Simon.  And I have to sit in front of a fan for fifteen minutes, just to cool off enough to get ready for bed.  Where I do not want to go, and where I will have nightmares now, and where Simon will undoubtedly revisit his scene of the crime soon.

And that's how my Fourth of July went, in six easy steps you can replicate to celebrate our nation's birth, anytime you wish.

Okay, I can understand if you don't want to be my house guest.  But you could at least subscribe to this blog, or buy one of my books.  Do it for America.