Day Four

Yeah, July Fourth. Every Fourth is different but fun is always the major ingredient. There was the soda bottle/dry ice/water bomb moment that involved the neighbors coming over and telling us that we had turned their baby into Helen Keller and we were like, What? It's Fourth of July and it's five in the afternoon! and we bbq'ed and played with sparklers and I made everyone beer coozies out of newspaper and duct tape, and we went down to the Hawthorne Bridge and played the Color Game (this involves identifying the color of the firework in real time. Example: Red! Blue! Green! Red!) and then we went downtown to the Greek Cuisina when it still had the big purple octopus hanging off the side and we threw ourselves right in the middle of the dance floor and were definitely the only white people and were dancing in our unabashed white people ways and we ended up going to a squatter's party in the building where the Made in Oregon sign is and some of us climbed up that sign while some of us swung around on this giant swing and talked to people with mono-dreads and we ate mashed potatoes and gravy and jumped off rocks into the Washougal wearing bathing suits with Russian spy hoods and biked down hills in the dark and got flat tires and limped home happy.

And some of you may recognize that this is a medley of multiple Fourths that I've had the good fortune to experience with you in Portland because you were there too.