Thankful for the Land that I Love and Other Stuff

Happy 238th Birthday, America! Our neighborhood puts on a wonderful patriotic 4th of July party every year, complete with flag raising, speakers, patriotic music (including a sing-along of "God Bless America"), and lots of food. Usually, it's hotter than blue blazes, but some freakish weather system brought us a delightful morning of low humidity and cooler temperatures than usual.

The flag bearer and Miss Liberty (aka my daughter)
2006

The flag bearer (second from left) and Miss Liberty
2014

We're a festive crowd.

1. I'm thankful to be an American, corny as it sounds. Our country has its problems (and whose doesn't?), but it's a pretty awesome place to live.

2. This week began with a snake in my house. I am not thankful for that. I AM thankful that there was only one and it was very small and very dead. If you didn't read about this yet, you need to fix that.

3. The other evening, everyone in the family (plus Ruby and Fletcher) was in my room, and there was no room for ME, so I took my laptop down to the living room and laid down on the couch and enjoyed the solitude. Is it bad to be thankful to be left alone in my own house for an hour or two?

4. It's no secret at our house that Pete, our 9 year old cat, hates Ruby with every fiber of his being, and he shuns me for bringing her into this life. A large reason for his shunning of me is because Ruby follows me everywhere I go. But the evening I went down to the living room by myself, she was in my room, sleeping in a chair and, due to the other commotion of kids and husband and cats and tv, she didn't realize I left the room. Pete was sleeping in a chair in the living room, and when he realized I was on the couch and Ruby was nowhere to be found, he came over, jumped up on my stomach (oof!) and laid there with me for about twenty minutes. Then Ruby realized I was missing and came down the stairs, and Pete flounced off with a hiss in her direction (and probably mine). Oh well, it was nice while it lasted....

5. Thursday, my daughter and I decided to enjoy a little girl time by going to a movie together. Despite my husband and son insisting it was going to be a stupid waste of money, she and I went to see "Tammy." (I think it's only fair to ask that I be nominated for Mom of the Year for taking my 15 year old to a raunchy, R-rated movie.) Is the movie going to win an Academy Award? Not a chance. Did we laugh all the way through it? Sure did! 

6. Not only did we enjoy seeing the movie, we (and I would like Mrs. Always Random to take note of this) didn't pay a dime for any of it, because I had a gift card that I forgot I had. Cha-ching!

7. Pretty much ever since we have lived back in Missouri, we have spent July 3 with my husband's sister and her family. We spend the day at the pool, eating, talking, and swimming, and the evening at my in-laws' house, eating dinner together, then setting off fireworks. We've gone from little ones who were excited to watch smoke bombs and sparklers to teenagers who can drive themselves to the fireworks stand (CAN, but don't, because they still want their grandad to come along and finance the operation) and set off all the fireworks themselves. My sister in law's family lives in Tulsa, which is only 2 hours away, but with the busy lives we all lead, we don't get to spend much time together. Our 3rd of July tradition is pretty sacred to us.

8. Spray sunscreen fail at our family outing, and I now have a sunburned strip on my right boob. I tried to take a tasteful picture of it, but that was pretty much a fail, too. The thankful here is that, thanks to my reconstruction-induced numb boobies, I can't feel a thing. First pain-free sunburn of my life!

9. My dad shot off a flare gun just after we watched a huge fireworks display put on just across the lake from my parents' house, and he didn't hit the boat that was sitting in the middle of the lake. If the police don't come knocking on the door and arrest him, then this will be TWO things of thankful.

10. Last weekend, my friend Zoe at Rewritten wrote about her chickens, many of whom have names. I told her my great aunt Daisy had a pet chicken (back in the early 1900s). Due to an unfortunate raccoon incident, Zoe found herself down four chickens (that means the raccoon ate them). A friend offered her four chicks to replace the ones who became popcorn chicken, and (THIS IS SO FREAKING COOL) she named one of them Daisy Dillon! Let me tell you, my great aunt would have been tickled pink to have a chicken named after her, as I am now. Well, part of the pink is my sunburned boobie, but believe me, I'M TICKLED!

Meet Daisy Dillon. Hopefully,
she won't become a snack wrap
for the raccoons.

Daisy Jefferson with her pet chicken
ca. 1912

In closing, may I say that if the police show up at my parents' door to arrest my dad for shooting that flare that landed less than 10 feet away from a boat, probably causing the occupants of said boat to crap their pants, I WAS RIGHT HERE THE WHOLE TIME, TYPING THIS POST, AND I KNOW NOTHING.

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