Sooooo....
I've long been accused by my loving (and chafingly accurate) mother that I get bored very easily.
I have projects lined up as long as a "country mile". A wicker table for the front porch, my antique magazine rack, my sewing table/desk, planters and vases....
But in the last week I've....well....I've been tired. Feeling run-down and a wee bit useless. Last weekend I daresay I spent 90% of it in bed shrugging off something that made me as limp as a wet dishrag and cranky as a wet wasp's nest. (Chris will gladly confirm this for you.)
Noooooooooooo, I'm not in "the family way" (don't I wish, as that would make my snappy mood swings so much more excusable). Nooooooooooo, I'm not depressed. Nooooooo, I'm not suffering from a lack of sunlight.
I think it's my body adjusting to all the new nutrients I'm subjecting it to and also the lack of white sugar, red meat, carbs, caffeine and sugar substitutes. However, if this new "lifestyle" continues to leave me feeling so depleted, I must reconsider...maybe I'm meant to eat garbage????? I shall confirm with Dr. Chad tomorrow after my weekly adjustment.
In any case, being the avid lover of summer that I am, I was too exhausted to bask in the glory of the summer solstice, a day that leaves me with a quiet conflict. The days will now get shorter, meaning the longest day of the year is now officially a year away.
However, I adore the 4th of July with all its splendor.
My dad would take our Bronco out to the backroads of Sheridan, Illinois, and we'd join dozens of other families as we watched the fireworks from afar. Bug spray and lawn chairs were optional. Sparklers were mandatory. Lines of pick-ups and station wagons with their backs opened parked along the roadside. The smell of cigarettes, beer and cheap icy, fruity winecoolers wafted thru the air.
Sometimes, a wayward redneck counterpart would get out and light off a "doozy" in the middle of the road, before the show started, to which we'd all cheer. And then, when the real show started, we would clap like crazy and make booming comments all during.
As soon as my dad identified the "grand finale", we'd hightail it outta there as if we were heading home from a packed Bears' game, chased by a growing cloud of dust on those gravel roads as others followed in our wake. And it was one of the very rare times you had to wait to turn left onto the blacktop to head to town.
We'd land in our yard where we'd have an even more spectacular display in our own backyard as he and our neighbor Ron rallied together to have the best show. (The first true definition of "punk" for me was a long, incense-like stick that you used to light fireworks from a distance.) And what a blast that was!!!!!! (Picking up the "spents" the next day did not offer nearly as much pleasure, but so is a girl-child's work after a night of rauckous, unrivaled entertainment, and it would never be punishment.)
I can't also forget the awesome 4th of July parades in Wheaton, IL with my Grandpop and Grandmom Cleary. The memory is a little more distant, so I hope not to recall incorrectly. I remember my grandparents lived not far off of Main Street. Someone would head down early to secure us spots on the sidewalk at the intersection of Main and Madison. We ALWAYS had great seats. And the governor at the time, Governor Jim Ryan, always made an appearance, which meant little to me as a child. I remember the best goodies from those parades, though. Candy, yes. But also Frisbees! And hats! And t-shirts! It was like Christmas!
Afterward, we'd head back to Grandmom and Grandpop's house to have a grilled meal - I think one year they tried to grill a turkey? But I remember it as one of the few times I had to really enjoy my grandparents backyard. The hammock...the swing....the mysterious shed.
But those times are foggy. Grandmom died in1989, to my great and terrible sadness. Grandpop followed in 1993 on (ironically) the 4th of July. I was so devastated I couldn't visit his casket and just viewed from afar as a grieving relative.
I have never forgotten them to this day, and I only pray that they are proud of what I have managed to accomplish with my life.
And, to all the veterans who have given their all and to those who have given their lives, I stand proudly as an American who can thank them for their service - my dad, my Uncle Bud, my brother, my Grandpop Cleary, my Great-Grandpop Reber, Dennis Kabara, my brother-in-law Joey, Robert Ficht, Jr., Kenneth Kozbiel - you gave your all to protect us who now live in freedom. I can honestly same that I am proud to be an American.
Recent Comments