The fourth of July was quite a frustrating day for us, what with all the rain and gloom and doom and general refusal to acknowledge such dreary boo-hiss with umbrellas and canceled parties.
No, we didn’t cancel the party and we were all about to start getting kind of claustrophobic or grouchy even, but Mother Nature released her grip on the cloud we kept checking intermittently to finally give some clear skies a chance. We kept checking, all afternoon, and it kept raining. We even sent a few party attendees to three different local department stores to price awnings and tents, which we might have bought if we weren’t a bit cheap or had sent the women to go browse.
Not having a tent turned out to be a good thing, what with the early evening clear skies:
I’d also think it safe to assume that a tent would have meant a tornado or something strong enough to take said tent right off the rooftop and into the projects across the street, because all know Murphy’s Law, now, don’t we.
There was the usual stuff happening, like historical debate on who really won the Revolutionary War and whether Michael Jackson is both a man and an icon, or just a pedophile. High brow debates on mathematics and dance-off challenges to be settled after dark. You know…nothing unusual.
The it got dark and all kinds of people showed up who apparently didn’t have time for rained in parties but plenty of time for warm summer night rooftop parties with some dancing and some grilling and a whole slew of people who have known each other for two decades. I guess I have time for parties like that too, although getting me to dance can be a tricky thing. It happens…but usually only if no one asks for it.
