The fourth of July. The one day of the year that I get nostalgic about living in a small town. This year, Parowen, Utah served as a lovely surrogate. We watched a parade complete with the requisite floats, horses, cheerleaders, and candy-throwing...
We grilled burgers and hotdogs. We took the grumpy girl for a walk around the block, and got baptized with a sudden and refreshing downpour. We played an always amusing round of Apples to Apples. We found a geocache (our first in Utah), and spread blankets at a local park to watch the fireworks...
After the “official” fireworks, we visited the front yard of some friends of our friends for the home-launched variety. The kids thought it was just about the coolest thing ever, right up until the second to last one, which sent embers flying through the yard, and spectators scrambling onto the porch.
We decided to leave Utah that night to get a head start on our next 19 hour leg, and we all left in high spirits: buoyed by fun celebrations, good food, and good friends.
It was a memorable and fantastic 4th, marred only by the fact that I broke a tooth on a piece of candy from the parade, as well as the sleep-robbing stomach aches that were shared by three of us (which may or may not also be attributed to poor late-night dietary choices. I admit to nothing.)
Next stop: Lincoln, Nebraska.
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