It is depressing to realize that annual celebrations we anticipated dearly as children continue as we age more out of habit than some innocent sense of awe. Yesterday was the 4th of July as many of you might have noted since your employers asked you to kindly stay home. The 4th was a big deal when I was a kid. We’d load up in the car, venturing to Raccoon Lake State Park, where we’d scout our same spot in front of the playground, with a view clear of the trees. The sloped grass looked down on to Raccoon Lake, spotted with boats that were reduced to different colored glows as the sun fell out of sight. For a small community, we had an incredible fireworks show. I remember the first time we had ones that made shapes. It was the talk of the town for weeks. “Did you see that one that made a ring???” Personally, my favorite was always the sparkly bronze-gold “weeping willow,” as I called it. It was the biggest and seemed as if it took up the entire sky. I was certain that one of the little glowing embers was going to trickle its way down on to my forehead. Of course, it never did. That would have been bad, but in my head, it would have landed as little pieces of gold glitter.

After the show, it would take an hour to get out of the park. My dad had 2 post-fireworks moods: 1) in good spirits, so he’d keep the window rolled down to yell out comments at people we knew or 2) poor spirits so the windows were rolled up and there was aggressive maneuvering to get us out of the park as quickly as possible. If it were the former, we knew there would be more fireworks when we got home. Growing up in the middle of nowhere holds the perk of being able to take your life in to your own hands and rig your own illegal fireworks show without anyone really knowing or caring. Dad would drag up the huge box of pyrotechnics from the basement and setup shop in the field across the road, while we danced around the yard with sparklers, writing our names in the sky.

As years went by, we moved in to our new place in the woods and the DIY fireworks show became less & less appealing. We did have one memorable year, when our St. Bernard decided he wasn’t a fan of the roman candle that was in the road. He pounced it, knocking it on its side, firing its colorful missiles directly at the house and thus, all of us. My cousin from DC was in town. He broke the lawn chair in his haste. It was a miracle none of us (including the dog) were injured, but in retrospect, it would have been hilarious to see that replay on video. My mom was freaking out. I think I stepped over behind a tree. My genius brother ran behind the gas tank. He didn’t live that one down for awhile.

Once I moved to Carmel, it was harder to get home for the 4th, unless it was on a weekend. Going to see fireworks became more of an effort than it was worth, but it didn’t stop me from trying to watch them in my own lazy way. I would run from one end of my apartment to the other, watching about 5 different shows simultaneously. It was neat but not quite the same without the “boom” and “weee-eee” sounds. I suspected my first San Francisco 4th would be much of the same. It started out that way. I’d been at Ikea earlier in the day, so I was assembling my chest of drawers on the floor, thinking maybe I could see something from my apartment. I heard the sounds start, but all I could see was a slight glow above the building across the street. I let that go on for about 10 minutes before I worked up the nerve (yelled at myself about being lazy/scared) to change out of my PJs and head out. Armed with my blanket, I ventured out in the direction of the glow, merging with more and more people as I went along. Sheep navigation is useful sometimes. It was completely dark, and I had no idea where these people were taking me but I left my first SF Independence Day in their hands. We went down dirt paths and some stairs. The display was becoming more visible and we passed others who had already setup camp, but these people were still moving forward, so I followed.

We came to the northern edge of Fort Mason (and so, the entire peninsula). There was a slight clearing, framed by some evergreens. Through the clearing was a view of the pier and boats sprinkled out in the bay. And above was a colored sky—fireworks illuminating a fog-entrenched sky. “Surreal” is the best way I can express the sensation. I stood, grasping my blanket, huddled between strangers, all of us staring up at this incredible sight. It moved my desire to see the Northern Lights higher up on the priority list. It was just amazing. You could almost hear the sound of the music from down at Fisherman’s Warf. It was perfect. Well, it would have been more perfect if the girl in front of us had decided against narrating the entire show. Then again, maybe there were some people there that didn’t know when they were seeing a cube vs a ring. She also let us all know that it’s not the finale until a bunch go off at the same time. Maybe I happened upon a newbie fireworks support group. Hard to know. But I digress.

I saw fireworks that I’d never seen in my life, the neatest being this one that seemed to explode from half way up, sending colored light randomly streaming from it’s horizontal center. The guy behind me was kind of amusing. Must have been a first for him, as well, because he yelled “ooh, do that again” and sure enough, another immediately followed. He said “thanks” but then yet another appeared, so his dialogue continued, ending with “okay, okay. I’m good.” Amusing.

I lingered a bit after the show, walking along the edge, taking in the view of the water and Sausalito, all lit up in the distance. Fort Mason came highly recommended by Johnny, but I didn’t expect to find agreement with his review in the blackness of night. I’m a 5-block walk from that view, so I’ll need to make a friend and go back (with tripod & SLR). There were parties all around on the walk back. I thanked myself for not being lazy & people-dependent. It was a worthwhile outing.

I’m even more pleased with my apartment now. Life does play out as it should. I trust in that philosophy for the most part.

It was a great Fourth overall. I spent the afternoon in Emeryville, getting some things at Ikea, like swedish meatballs. Then, I had my first Ben & Jerry’s experience on Haight St (it doesn’t get much more authentic than that). I had the cheesecake & brownie. Pretty yum. Once I parked my car, I walked down to Safeway to stalk up on some staple items and get ingredients for dinner. It was my first time doing real cooking of any kind in my kitchen. It was cramped but it went well. I had teriyaki salmon steaks with red potatoes & parsley, and mixed greens (yes, I bought them. I’m getting there.) It was pretty delicious. I shall be partaking in leftovers shortly. I enjoyed buying a bunch of fresh ingredients for what I wanted to make. It made me feel like such a chef. Silly, I know.

The week held other excitement. Justin joined me on my first In-n-Out Burger experience after work on Tuesday (I think). The uniforms were a bit disheartening, but the food was tasty. I’ll certainly be back. Justin made sure I watched them make my fries. Hah. Diana told me about the secret menu, so I’ll have to hit that up next time. We got off the bus early and walked through Fisherman’s Warf. It was a bit chilly, but such a beautiful day to take in the water views. After in-out, we walked further along and came across a gallery show. We stopped in and discovered some tiny Rembrandt drawings in the back, dated 1635. That’s crazy to think about. It was nice. I need to do more random walking and exploring. There is always something worth seeing here.

Wednesday evening I met up with Liz, who was in town for the weekend. We had dinner at Kate O’Brien’s. I liked the atmosphere, a nice, dark pub. May have to venture back there for happy hour. It was cool seeing someone from Indiana. The strange part was that it didn’t feel as if we were meeting some place foreign. I still cannot get over how I feel as if I’ve lived here forever.

They let us out of work at 2pm on Thursday for an early holiday. I wish I were busier so that extra time would mean more, but I was still very appreciative. Sometimes it felt as if it was pushing it to get the actual holiday off at the last job, let alone more time. I took a short lunch because of the short day. It was so nice out that I had to get outside during the peak heat of the day. I grabbed a slice at SBC, then walked around AT&T park and down one of the pedestrian piers. I hung out there for awhile, soaking up some sun and studying the ports & some interesting boat names. I also noted some heavy low-lying clouds to the south. Sure enough, those had encompassed my apartment by dinner time. I couldn’t see beyond the end of my block. It was an incredible view. When I’m walking in my neighborhood, I often feel like I’m back in Port Townsend, WA, which was definitely a place I would live, if I didn’t have to commute to Seattle for a job.

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