Don’t rain on my parade

Due to perpetual drizzle and grayness, I didn’t get too many good pictures on the Fourth of July.  It was one of those weekends that makes you understand why grunge music is about the only thing that’s come out of Seattle.  People have begun referring to last month as “June-uary” around here, it’s been so bad.  Kevin and I actually watched fireworks on TV that night and mused over what was more depressing: watching fireworks on TV or being one of the news reporters assigned to discussing the fireworks after the shows.  “Did you see that  green one that when spooooooozzzzzip and then turned into pink zingzingzings about three-quarters of the way through the show?  That was AWESOME!”

We did make it to the parade earlier in the day, so the day wasn’t a total wash.  Note how this picture illustrates how Rocco really inherited his father’s ears.  Or his father’s left ear, anyway.


Everyone always talks about how delicious their baby’s thighs are, but no one ever mentions the cankles.  Why are the cankles not nomalicious?


“This parade kind of sucks but the SEEfood is finger-lickin’!”


This group of kids in front of us kept running out and grabbing all the candy—I saw them actually grab the bag from someone in the parade and rip it to shreds.  I alternated between being annoyed that their parents weren’t parenting them and being thankful that they were saving my own kids from this:


Not my own kid’s hand, but this baby was so sweet, waving at the parade:


Hope you all had a happy Fourth of July!


Stuffing-topped pork chops (thanks MIL!)
Steamed broccoli with butter
Salad with gouda and apples
Homemade popsicles


2 thoughts on “Don’t rain on my parade

  1. Well said on the thighs. I took a picture of Cash’s wrist rolls because I did not ever want to forget them. Nommm

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