My parents live in a small town in the Sierra Nevadas, just north of Lake Tahoe. I don't mean small like there's no Target nearby. I mean small like there's no Target...anywhere, for hours. Hell, the ice cream place can't even be bothered to stay open past 5pm on a Friday night, during the summer, when all of the seasonal residents arrive for their weekend away-from-it-all.
Uncle Sam Grandpa has a beer
The bonus to small-town living is that holidays like Independence Day (aka The Fourth of July) are an old-fashioned barrel o' fun, complete with a street dance, parade, and Civil War reenactment. I'm not clear on the relevance of reenacting the Civil War outside of the area where it actually occurred, but who am I to stop a man from donning wool and a musket in the middle of July?
Flag-waving Bug marches in the parade
If all goes well, and no major fires block our way, we'll be heading up again this year for a weekend of fun and festivities. All I have to do is dig out our matching red-white-and-blue attire, complete with embroidered names. Because, you know what? Nothing screams small town like matching outfits. On an ENTIRE family--parents, kids, grandparents
, dogs. I am concerned that a couple of us (who shall remain nameless...ahem) no longer fit in our shirts. Our dryer is very hot, you know.
Y'all come back now, ya hear?