Hello, everyone! I hope all my American friends had a wonderful Independence Day weekend, and that all my international friends had a wonderful watch-the-Americans-get-drunk-and-blow-their-fingers-to-bits-with-fireworks weekend. All my fingers are still intact, thank you for asking, and I left the fireworks to the professionals.
My dad and my sister came up for the holiday, and we caught the always-spectacular display at NARA park in Acton. It’s become a yearly tradition, and it never disappoints, even if I was forced to serve as a mosquito buffet for a few hours.
Oliver was excited by his visitors and very, very pleased that I could spend the whole long weekend waiting on him hand and foot. Here he is as I fulfilled my daily admiration quota, camera in hand.
On Saturday, I took a trip to Old Sturbridge Village with my friends Ernesto and Kevin, because nothing is better in a 96 degree heat wave than visiting an outdoor tourist attraction designed around the non-air conditioned 1830’s. Despite the dust and heat and generally icky sweatiness, it’s a wonderful living museum and a highly recommended way to spend the day. Just go in like, October, so you don’t broil.
We were lucky enough to catch an early American folk music concert, presented by a group of costumed (and overheated) volunteers. They sang everything from William Billings to Yankee Doodle, and it was a very nice little interlude. The elderly among them get a great deal of credit for not succumbing to heat stroke.
And I saw a rooster!
Anyway, the purpose of this little photo essay is simply to say that I had a very nice extended weekend, full of Americana and patriotism and all that jazz. Massachusetts is a pretty great place to experience the history of our nation without overwhelming dogma. And I got to try on a bonnet in the gift shop, so you don’t get fairer than that.
Now the vacation is over, and I’m back to buffing and polishing The Spoil of Zanuth-Karun for its debut next Monday. It’s gonna be pretty great, you guys. Really. I can’t wait.