Grown Up

There are two things that are telling me: YOU’RE GETTING OLD AND BORING. The first is that Sunday night — the 245th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence — Bill and I were in bed at 9:45. In the background, we could hear fireworks popping and booming. Well, at least for about the 5 minutes it took me to fall asleep with my earplugs.

The second thing that tells me that I’m getting old is that I was inordinately excited to receive the package from Weather Tech that held my brand new plastic cut-to-fit cargo liner for the CR-V. There was a time when it would have taken a package from Nordstrom or Crate and Barrel to excite me. Alas, given that I dress now like a hillbilly and I mostly use plastic glasses because we spill a lot, I have lowered my excitement standards to car accessories.

Shortly after we purchased the car this past spring, I drove it to my favorite nursery to buy some plants. While I thought I had the plants securely fixed so that they wouldn’t tip over, they tipped over. Would you like me to come organize your car trunk for you? Anyway, I got home and showed Bill the dirt. We vacuumed it up, but nevertheless, I immediately got on Weather Tech’s website and ordered the trunk liner. As I write this blog post, Bill is installing the liner, happy as a fly on

We had a nice celebration of our nation’s birthday. Jen hosts because her daughter Maggie and family are always in town for the Fourth. This year the dinner featured Chicago hot dogs, because nothing says God Bless America more than a hot dog. Of course, Bill kicked in to buy a couple of pizzas, because for him, nothing says God Bless America more than pizza. Take THAT, Italy.

Ironically, when Bill and I took our Big Trip to Europe, we spent the Fourth of July in Certaldo, Italy. While I was often homesick for my family, it was the first, and I believe only, time that I was homesick for my country. So we went to the market and managed to find funny little short hot dogs and some buns. I opened a can of cannellini beans, and doctored them up with brown sugar, mustard, and ketchup. They weren’t good, but they were as close as we could get to baked beans. Bill downloaded I’m Proud to Be An American, by Lee Greenwood, and we had a little July 4th celebration. No fireworks.

It would be hard to beat the time that my dad and my Uncle Dale were in charge of fireworks and managed to drop a cigarette in the wagon holding our entire stash. That, my friends, was a Grand Finale that we never let him live down.

Oh, and I just thought of one other thing that made me homesick for the good ol’ U.S. of A. while we were traveling. Much as I enjoyed the espresso in every country we visited, I couldn’t wait to get home and have an bottomless cup of American coffee.

God bless America.

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