Last year I experienced my first Independence Day celebration in Los Alamitos, California. I remember feeling confused and a little frightened of the social integration I was inevitably going to take on by moving to the United States.
A year has gone by, I feel more like an American (really?) and joining the celebration in my own town feels much different.
It all began with a locally made huckleberry pie from the Amish store…
We then ineffectively tried to crash several ongoing parties. Cursing at my phone for not being able to connect –all I heard was “Hello? Marjo, can you hear me?”– I grudgingly decided to have some cold beers on our sunny deck instead, occasionally walking two minutes to the pier for a splash in the lake.
Boy this sucks.
Once I got over this futile and rather silly sulking, we rode our bicycles to a nice spot along the Ponderay Bay Trail and waited for the fireworks to start.
Small boats come in from all over in anticipation of a different perspective on the light show.
Around 10:00 pm it’s dark enough to start and warm enough to still swim in the lake.
“We then ineffectively tried to crash several ongoing parties.” MGN 07/16/2015…
Hmm, me thinks MGN is a silly Dutch enigma… jolly good for her!
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You got me, I do crash parties. But only when I know the host, so does that constitute ‘crashing’?
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