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Ah, I love the Fourth of July. Not really for any reason, or at least not for any patriotic reason. But I like the associations: parades and smiles, apple pie and grilling out, checked table cloths and friends.
This year, Eliza and I went to the parade. It was a beautiful 75 degrees and we snagged a prime grassy spot at the very beginning of the route, right next to the mayors. And we even made it through a couple floats and a marching band before she went terrifyingly panicky at honking horns and we had to walk the 2 miles home without any free, thrown-from-a-car candy. (When she was denied sitting on my lap -- not normal for Ms. Eliza Q. to try -- she settled for burrowing under the chair of the lady behind us. I figured this wouldn't be appreciated for any period of time. So off we went to see what people do if they don't go to the parade. The answer is, not really anything.)
We did walk through at least half the parade floats and fire trucks as they were staged before the event. Thus I feel justified in giving out a few awards:
The Bravest Parade Participant Award goes to the man from the dog rescue with three full-grown St. Bernards on one leash. Now that takes guts!
And there was a tie for the Most Self-Restraint at the Parade Award: to Eliza, for not devouring the small child who charged her and gave her a huge hug while holding an open bag of Cheetos; and to the 8ish-year-old boy of Cub Scout Troop #9, for not dousing a panting dog and sweaty dog-handler with his super soaker, even while our backs were turned and the adult supervision was distracted and it was really boring just sitting there waiting for the parade to start.
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