I think the Fourth of July is my fourth favorite holiday, after Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Halloween. But I suppose that's not saying much, since there are only eight holidays I formally celebrate, and the other competition includes Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day.
Last Sunday, while wearing my flag tie and flag socks, I went to a patriotic service in the Marriott Center. It was the first time I'd been to the Marriott Center since graduation. They had some patriotic music and speeches about America, and the keynote speaker was Laura Bush. When she was speaking, some rotten person began yelling things at her and he had to be taken out. My first thought was, "I hope that man gets hit by a car." I don't have a problem with people disagreeing with the policies of any given president, but this yelling was extremely distasteful. For one thing, she was the First Lady, not the president. Bush hasn't been the president for more than five years, and he never will be again. It seemed to me that that guy came to the service--which was only about America--and sat where he did just so he could do that, which I find completely deplorable, regardless of one's political views. Yelling at people never solved anything.
I have a tendency to feel guilty when I really know I shouldn't. I tend to hate applause, especially when it is excessive, and I hate standing ovations. There were a lot of those at the service. In protest, I only did minimal clapping and preferred not to stand. Thus when Laura Bush came in, I was still in protest mode, and I didn't stand up, because I was thinking, "Why are we standing up? She hasn't done anything yet!" But then I realized that we were standing not for applause but for respect, and I felt bad that I had been sitting. My standing was late.
I had to leave my apartment this week because they were painting the walls. We had to move a lot of our stuff, so I used the opportunity to take a lot of my stuff home. I needed to visit home anyway, because my nephews were coming. It's nice to have a job where I can go wherever I want.
While I was home, I took the opportunity to pull my bicycle down, pump up the tires, and go on a little ride. I haven't dared have my bike in Provo, since I had one stolen four years ago and had a seat/saddle stolen two years ago. I hope that whoever stole the bike gets in a violent crash and breaks his back and is forever paralyzed. I hope that whoever stole the seat trips while carrying it and has the post go through his eye. (OK, I know that's a little harsh, but I think it's funny to say those things, because that's everyone's knee-jerk reaction.)
Anyway, my little bike rides reminded me why I never learned to ride a bike when I was a kid. I've heard that we live on the steepest road in North Salt Lake, and biking on hills is no fun. I'm so out of practice biking that I didn't dare go very fast downhill, and going up was difficult, both because of physical difficulty and because of lack of practice. I didn't bike for very long, because I didn't like the thought of biking up more hills, and if I went down hills, I would have to come back up again.
On July 3, we went up to the Eaglewood golf course for the traditional firework display. Before they started, I had to take Nathaniel to the bathroom. While we were standing in line, our conversation went something like this, except that Nathaniel's consonants are all messed up:
"Why is the sun in half?"
"That's not the sun, that's the moon."
"Where did the sun go?"
"It went down already."
"Is the sun made out of fire?"
"Kind of." (Keep in mind that I was talking to a four-year-old.)
"Is it made out of lava?"
"Nope."
"Preston said it was made out of lava, but he was lying. Is the moon made out of fire?"
"No, the moon is made out of rocks."
"Why did they make it like that?"
"Because a really long time ago, in space, there were lots of pieces that stuck together and became rocks, and then lots of rocks stuck together and made the moon. And the earth."
"That happened a really long time ago?"
I wondered what the people around me thought of the conversation, because they probably couldn't understand Nathaniel.
Then on the Fourth of July, not too much happened. I watched the only Fourth of July movie I have, Rudolph and Frosty's Christmas in July. (I know, right?) That night we went to my sister's house for fireworks. Fireworks are sure different from how they were when I was a kid. Now they are illegal in my neighborhood, but aerial fireworks are legal elsewhere. While we set off little fireworks at my sister's house, her neighbors had giant aerial fireworks. They kind of freak me out; I can be a little paranoid. But they are fun to watch, as long as I feel that I'm a safe distance away. Independence Day is a fun holiday.
Then I came back to my apartment all in shambles. Dressers in the living room and kitchen, the beds off of their cinder blocks, and the living room full of furniture.
No comments:
Post a Comment