Fourth of July
Well, my dearest savant_da_rat is off in Pennsylvania and won't be home for another week, so it's bachelorette time here.
Abu Felix took me to dinner last night, and tonight, Arbor came over, picked me up, drove me to Friend X's house, drove me back home (with her dog in the backseat), and then drove herself home, adding an hour to her evening - no, two hours, it's a half-hour trip and she made it four times.
She also bought me some light bulbs, which I need and cannot reach in the garage. Yay, Arbor! She couldn't fix the broken hoses, though, so I'm still hauling water to half the yard until the rat gets back. I may lose some plants but better that than put myself in the hospital.
Dinner was excellent, up on a deck in balmy air with no mosquitoes (well, hardly any, and none on me), a slow-roasted chicken, the sweetest corn I've had all season, and two margaritas (again, yay Arbor! I would not have had them were I driving). Dessert was red white and blue: the wide champagne glasses (do they have a special name? the kind which are not flutes EDIT: dizietsma to the rescue! It is a champagne coupe, or champagne saucer, see below) with vanilla ice cream, fresh strawberries and fresh blueberries. Because this is X's house, there were also bite-sized brownies and hot fudge sauce.
I wore red socks over white socks, a red-and-white striped shirt, little red star earrings, and my pirate-length blue jeans. I would have worn the dogs' red-white-and-blue starred neckerchief, but there's about 150 lb / 75 kg of stuff intended for the storage unit piled in front of the closet which I therefore cannot open. I did wrestle the flag out of there, though. Without the neckerchief but with a vest or bustier, the same outfit will do for X's husband's pirate party September 19. I meant to hem these jeans higher because this is such a goofy length, but they're great as they are for pirate wear. Ludicrous for anything else, though.
On the way home, Arbor, her pup, and I got to watch the fireworks from the highway. I have seen fireworks from a plane over Springfield, Illinois - what a sight! To be in the air with those decorative explosions! And from the turret of a castle in Washington, DC, I have watched fireworks over the Washington Monument, also a deep pleasure.
Alas, the American recession means many local governments cannot afford fireworks this year, and that will, I think, drive many firework artists out of business; sad hamster is sad about that.
But great food, good friends, lively conversation about politics, the Court (which just finished its term, and we are not happy) and cinema and uhh... I forget what else, but it was good. Oh, yes, the Washington Post fashion writer, whom we loathe. I want to break into her house and crack the heels off of all her shoes; all present agreed this would be a good, fitting, and righteous act. Two dogs, both of whom went insane at the explosions all night long, growing truly unbearable during the multiple finalés. (My Ace was the only dog I've ever had who did not care at all about thunder or explosions. No interest, no concern. What a pleasant change!) Oh, and talk of X's grandpa, who still rolls down the window and inhales with a blissful look on his face when skunk scents the air. "Smells like money," he says. He trapped and sold skunk pelts during the Depression to feed his family. (The 1930s Depression, not this one.)
We toasted Obama, our first elected president in nine years; and we would have toasted Al Franken, but Sarah Palin distracted us. X and I sang The Star-Spangled Banner but we sang it too high for the husband and for Arbor. Since Arbor is a natural soprano and X and I are not, you can imagine how very squeaky we were. We also sang Hurrah for the Red White and Blue / Cuz a Duck Could Be Somebody's MOoooottthherrr but couldn't remember any more of the words than that. The hubby wanted to sing To Anacreon in Heaven but none of us know even one word to that, beyond the title. Cute racy video of it here though.
I miss my friend with the castle. I miss my friend in Springfield. I miss Ace. Most of all, I miss Savant. On the other hand, except for the Ace thing, this year's Fourth is still better than last year's, in which I was missing Savant, missing living in a democracy, and in which a drive-by bottle rocket shooting at two a.m. could have set my attic on fire.