I’m sure you all know that, as a dirty lefty liberal, it’s my job to hate my country. Thus, I did nothing fun for the Independence Day weekend, nor did I once give thanks for living in the US of A. I did not wear the colors of the flag, I did not watch fireworks, and I did not stroll around a cute lakeside town, keeping my ear tuned to the sounds of a brass band.
Okay, that’s (mostly) a lie. I did pretty much all that stuff I listed and more. I ate sweet, sticky ice cream in Michigan; had a picnic at the lake in Chicago; played in the freezing water and on the hot rocks; mocked teenage dudes who nearly blew themselves up showing off with their fireworks; and generally enjoyed the shiz out of my long weekend. And while it’s true that I’m a bit (ahem…massively) suspicious of rampant nationalism, I did celebrate the fact that this country has marked another year of its fascinating history.
I wore lots of things during the weekend, but as I was attempting to live life, not blog it, I only took a few outfit photos. You have those here, as well as some recent photos from some of the sailing trips I’ve taken with Sean on his sailboat, The Kestrel.