Fourth of July weekend:
Saturday I ended up at an LDS BBQ with a few of Josh’s co-workers. He was going to have a talk with the host before the party about how I have never been a member and that he has been ‘out of touch’ or ‘retired’ from the church for seven years now…but the talk never happened. (I kind of figured my big mouth would lead them down our ’stray path’ anyway, so to speak). We showed up at their immaculate house which was built like, yesterday, way out past Renton. Immediately I felt like I was hanging out with my in-laws–only thirty years younger and wearing modern clothing. The host took us on a tour of the backyard and right smack in the middle of the bright green lawn was a trampoline. After ho-humming about it, trying not to act too excited, I was given the blessing to go for it. I hurled my body towards the trampoline, kicking off my shoes, and threw myself on it. The trampoline was soaking wet…I don’t know what’s going on here, it’s July and our heat is on, the drizzle has been relentless. I tried to play it off but after a few solid bounces I realized my entire ass was soaked. I went back inside looking like I had a major accident in my pants. The water plowed through my Vickies and into my skin leaving me freezing cold. The tough part was trying to refer to my ass politely when people noticed it was wet, like, I can’t say “yeah, my ass is wet” but can I say “butt?” Oooh, that’s skirting the line, but do I really have to say “bum” or “bottom” when my butt cheeks are freezing? I ended up sitting down a lot during the gathering. I ate half a hamburger, politely listened to the men banter about where they went on their missions, drank water, admired the baby, and generally had a good time. I raised eyebrows, however, when I ranted about how Josh and I were Rental Veterans, what with having rented together for six years–oops, Josh previously revealed we’ve only been married two years. I felt like all these fresh faced youngsters were, well, so young and earnest. I just knew they bought into the whole freedom fries, hanging in there, America the Brave jargon that’s been circulating within our politics this last week. The young wives sat enraptured as I regaled them my tales of public transportation–how radical! But, you know, Josh and I are kinda lonely in this big city. It was good to get out and meet some new people.
We were wildly ambitious on Sunday. We went to Greenlake and rented a canoe. Josh decided to give me the Ultimate Canoe Challenge by throwing his oar into the water and making me row to it. I came close, both times sailing right past the floating oar, itches away. Embarrassingly, the oar was rescued by a Mom and her little girl in a kayak. I failed the Ultimate Canoe Challenge–and was beat out by a kid no less!

We rowed near the shore and witnessed a man throwing rocks into the water at his Golden Retriever. The poor dog was frantically searching for the rocks–which is a stupid thing to throw because rocks sink–the poor little guy was unwilling to exit the water until he had successfully retrieved something. Josh was furious, and had to contain his rage. We rowed away once the dog was safely on land. Here is a picture of me and the dog, before we realized his abuse:

We returned the canoe, realized we were starving, and split an overpriced polish dog and a slushy. We went downtown, which was mobbed with pleasantly sun-drenched tourists. Before we knew it we got sucked into the void that is known as Nordstrom Rack. We were unable to leave without buying Josh a long-sleeve Ezekiel tee and a sleeveless, Hurley, hoodie for myself. I bought us gelato to celebrate our purchases and than we went and saw Batman Begins. I enjoyed it. I did not enjoy Katie Holmes, blame it on the whole Tom Cruise-jumpin-up-and-down-like-a-maniac scandal, but neither she nor her character did anything for me. Christian Bale is hands down the sexiest Batman, EVER…Holy Smokes! I think he ties with Christopher Reeve’s hottie portrayal of Superman, and that admiration goes way back to my childhood infatuation with the character.
On Monday, we dilly dallied around, washing dishes and laundry. Not to sound like a commercial, but there is no comparison to fresh laundry drying on the clothes line. The smell and feel of the sheets at night are heavenly–no matter what they say, dryer sheets can not imitate the sweet scent of sun dried laundry. Josh struggled with the push mower, (it was his turn on our mowing rotation):

We realized, after much debate, that fighting crowds to see fireworks would result in us coming home really late–on the bus no less. In order to feel festive, we decided to go get a barbeque at Lowe’s. On the way there and back we watched two people run red lights…blatantly. I think the holiday has promoted some sort of weird, crazy, vibe–at least in our hood. We bought a really tiny non-charcoal grill, bought some food at Safeway, and managed not to get hit on the way home.
Josh trying to put the damn grill together:

Nearby our neighbors were drunkenly whooping up. In Colorado fireworks were illegal–the excuse being that our dry climate would grab hold of a firework and turn it into a wildfire. I forgot how loud fireworks are, how brazen people are with explosives, and that most folks ignore warnings and insist on holding Roman Candles. Before heading off to Madrona Beach to admire the Eastside’s fireworks from across the lake, we ended up having our own private celebration in our backyard: