You’ve got to love a holiday! We’re here on this Glorious Fourth eating eggs for lunch and left over fried chicken for breakfast, going out on paddle boards and fishing off the dock. Even baseball right IN the water was on the agenda this weekend.
Archer, this handsome Rhodesian Ridgeback of a canine, captured the spirit nicely.
By day there was the swimming and the spraying of hoses on sturdy baby legs by sturdy baby humans.
Then the in-the-water baseball looked like this:
…while and the paddleboarding looked like this:
By night there were fireworks, every night leading up to the Fourth, and man they were CRAZY fireworks, that went on and one for an hour, because this is after all New Hampshire, the Live Free or Die state where nobody dares tell anyone else what to do. They were going off from every corner of the cove and from two towns both up and down the lake from this cove.
To me the din was awful which seems strange since you’d think the older you get the deafer you’ll be so no problem about the loud noises.
For sure I am old: if I didn’t know it before the weekend, I know it now. The little baseball player pictured above asked me the other night just how old I was.
“I’m sixty-seven,” I said.
He looked up at me with his large brown eyes and said so sweetly, “I knew you were old, TT! You know how?”
“Because your face has those crinkles. And you have to bend down to hear me. Also, your voice.”
I’m not sure how my voice gives me away. To me, inside the chambers of my old skull my voice sounds to the same way it always has, but who knows? Maybe to the young I sound like Ursula from The Little Mermaid.
It is what it is, eh? All I know is I’m just glad to be here on this anniversary of our nation’s birth! Here I am three years ago on the same day with grandson David. It’s the kids who keep us smiling!