Monday, July 6, 2009

Happy 4th of July; wear your sweater...

There’s no in between in Indiana. Either you boil or freeze on the 4th of July. This year, like last year was a cool, rainy mess. Not to be deterred, we celebrated anyway.

Friday night, our friends Jill and Scott hosted their unbelievably fun annual Summer Soiree. It’s the one night of the summer we pretend we’re 23 instead of 33. Miraculously, we were up and ready Saturday morning to go to the Carmel 4th of July parade. Our friends, the Hindmans are here for a visit from Florida and they saved us prime seats. Lots of candy, plenty of politicians, and marching bands. As a side note, I’ve never seen so many “cheerleading” squads in my life. It’s a cottage industry around here.

I bought a new camera lens on Friday. It was a major purchase. I think it’s more money than I’ve ever spent on something aside from furniture. Anyway, I took it to the parade, but with the on and off sprinkles, I was really afraid of moisture.
Good thing I took this very patriotic image, which just screams “U.S.A.!!!”

We went out to lunch after the parade and then came home for much needed naps. The entire house slept for two hours. Once we were up and around the kids couldn’t wait to go back to the Ehnes’ for fireworks. Their garage was turned into a banquet hall and we tried to outlast the rain. The guys wound up setting off the fireworks across the street under the cover of a patio umbrella.

The kids loved the show and were hauled off to bed shortly after. Meredith had such a meltdown on the way home that it was more funny than annoying.

Sunday evening, I had a shoot with a woman who reconnected with me on Facebook. We used to work together almost ten years ago. The girls ranged in ages from 9-13. Two sets of sisters, who apparently don’t enjoy each other’s company. That went well.

We went to bed pretty early last night and I’m glad we did because at 1:30 a.m. Rolly was barking like a junk yard dog. I woke up Brandon and he went to see what had Rolly in such a panic. While Brandon was searching the perimeter of our house in his boxers; I heard the cause for alarm: A pack of coyotes. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them and there were several. Judging by Rolly’s reaction, at least 500. (Rolly is Irish and tends to exaggerate.)

We have a big coyote problem in our neighborhood. They made a decent attempt at eating our neighbor’s dog. We’ve been told not to camp in the backyard, unless we enjoy being harassed by wild, rabid dogs. On the rare occasion I have slept with the windows open, they’ve woken me their snarling, snorting, and howling. Creepy!

Rolly feels it’s his duty to both welcome everyone into our home and frighten away anyone for whom we do not open the door. He hides behind closed doors and barks, because it’s hard to be intimidating when you look like Fozzy Bear.

Rolly was determined to scare away the coyotes even if it meant barking until he was hoarse. Finally, I talked him into sleeping in our room, and assured him he could tear any and all coyotes to shreds should they manage to sneak into the house.

2 comments:

Robyn said...

The Marietta parade was just full of "Miss" everything. I don't know how many princesses, teens and queens there were, welcome to the South. Best of all were the debutantes, who walked in their full hoop skirts like Scarlett. We too had the man in the kilted skirt, ours did play the bag pipes.

Sara Alexander said...

Rolly is so brave!