Baby, you're a firework.

Oh hi. I’ve missed you. And I don’t mean I’ve missed you in the awkward way you say it to people you actually don’t miss at all, but feel obligated to say it to out of courtesy because maybe they’ve missed you. I don’t even mean it in the sarcastic way you say it to people you haven’t actually been apart from long enough to miss. Because, well, we’ve been apart for quite some time now, and I think you know me well enough to know I don’t say things out of courtesy to others. Seriously, I mean it. I’ve missed you. And I hope you’ve missed me. Or that you’d at least say you did out of courtesy.

How was your Fourth of July? Hopefully filled with ice chests of cheap beer, hotdogs, friends and fireworks – as any good, old fashioned, aaahmuuurican celebration should be.  The Fourth has always been really fun – slash – super embarrassing for me.

By now, what I am about to disclose should come as no surprise to you.  For the longest time, Fourth of July for me was synonymous with parade. Heading to either Cobb Mountain or Lake Tahoe with family and friends to don face paint and cardboard cutouts, I looked forward to it every year. Dressing up in swimsuits and sarongs toting giant postcards reading Greetings from Cobb-o or walking down the parade route shhhhh –ing patrons on sidewalks wearing cardboard trees with cutouts for our faces representing Whispering Pines, we were always a hit. As time passed, we opted out of the parades, giving other people a chance to shine, and I had no idea a person could have so much fun without a costume.  In high school, it was all about the third of July. If you are from Napa, you will understand completely. On the third, Silverado Country Club hosts an annual fireworks show on the golf course, which might as well double as a high school reunion. Or elementary school reunion. Or any type of reunion for that matter. Because, well, what else are you going to do in Napa on the July third? And who doesn’t love fireworks? Exactly. So if I may, allow me to embarrass myself and my family a little.

Dressed as sunflowers - I know, we go all out - obviously we were Too Bloomin' Cute, hence the sign. That's me on the far end. And standing in the forefront is the darling Becca Cadloni, who will probably murder me if she she's this. 

Naturally, my sister was too cool to join us in the flower bed, opting for a tinfoil sprinkler head, 

soaking the parade route with her water gun

Taking it even further back, you'll see me on the left, and Genelle Cadloni to my right. Probably selecting our own theme, I'm guessing we dubbed ourselves as Fourth of July Princesses, or something like that, that would obviously require us to sport paper crowns, swimsuits and kick ass jelly sandals. 

Now that I’ve moved out of Napa, I’ve found alternate ways to celebrate – not involving parades or country club parties on the golf course. But I guess beachside barbeques and rooftop dance parties with my closest friends isn’t such a terrible way to ring in our independence. Heading to Seal Beach, where my friends’ family throws an annual bash, I did just that. And luckily enough for us, the fourth was on a Monday this year.  Which meant three day weekend. With most people expected in the office on Tuesday, we celebrated a day early, drinking burglars – tequila, tonic and a splash of OJ, and playing jailbreak – a take on beach volleyball, allowing ourselves a day of rest on Monday. So obviously, I headed to Hermosa Beach for round two on the fourth, but not before a few games of beer pong with the stragglers and an impromptu bbq with all of the leftovers.

Heading to Hermosa Beach, we arrived just in time for fireworks. And honestly, I don’t know which were better, the planned show set off in the harbor, or the illegal explosions going off right next to me on the beach. The show is always too short, and the finale is always disappointing. But the illegal show going off at a bonfire were, well, illegal, and I caught myself ducking for cover on more than one occasion. So let’s say it was a toss up? Satisfied with the colorful display in the sky, I was content heading out. Until, that is, we found ourselves in the front row of the Fourth Annual Michael Jackson Musical Review. Yes, you read that correctly. Every year, for the past four years, a house on the strand in Hermosa performs a musical review, set to MJ on their balcony following the fireworks show. And let me tell you, it was unreal. Employing toddlers to imitate little Michael in the Jackson 5 years, duplicating the red Thriller jacket, donning the silver socks for Billie Jean and even dangling a plastic baby Blanket over the edge, the show was a success. Add to that, a Janet Jackson Rhythm Nation dance sequence, a Lady Gaga montage and ending with Katy Perry’s Firework, I was cheering as if it were Michael’s actual This Is It tour – rest in peace. And luckily enough, my friend Alex captured footage on video so I can relive the fourth any day of the week.
I wonder how much trouble I’ll be able to drum up next year when the holiday falls on a Wednesday.