The 4th has traditionally been spent in Michigan, in little ol' Hesperia. It's always a bit foreign for us to be here in California which is the anti-Hesperia. But having just spent 2 weeks there and needing some serious "home time", we were obviously going to be in L.A. for the holiday.
The weekend came on slowly. Saturday was a 40th birthday party for our neighbor, Mario. This involved a DJ, bartender, & shots of tequila. The night ended with a vanilla Sprinkles cupcake. Needless to say, I didn't feel too great Sunday morning.
But after a long sleep-in and a leisurely lunch at EJ Malloy's, we geared up for the Morad BBQ. I made Elaine & Robin's ramen noodle salad for the first time ever, apparently it didn't suck. The kids played in Katie & Ryan's backyard. Katie's family gathered as usual for some dinner, patriotic cake and eventual fireworks.
The sun sat and the (legal) fireworks began. A ladder propped in the street, passing cars be damned. The neighbors pulled their camping chairs out along the road to watch. Rich and I dressed Charlie in a sweatshirt & pulled him over in his wagon along with our own booty of fireworks. And wine-to-go.
We relaxed, watched fireworks on the street and the large display put on by Cerritos park behind us. Chatted with friends and neighbors. Watched the littles wave sparklers around.
And realized that no matter where you are, the sentiment is the same. It's who you're with, not where you are on the days that matter.