Today was a good day. No parades or fireworks. No traveling.

When you grow up in a state where wildfires ravage the forests and deserts every summer and there is a perpetual water shortage, fireworks are not the norm.  In fact, they are illegal. One of my fondest memories is of spending the 4th of July in the back of a pick-up watching fire trucks drive up the side of a burning mountain.

We never celebrated minor holidays before we had Oscar, and we didn’t have big plans for the day, but every day is a holiday with Oscar around.

I envy my blogging friends who post pictures of cookouts at the lake, fireworks, and parades on tree-lined streets. Today was business as usual. We worked, we played, and we took our evening walk around the block. Oscar even took a bath to celebrate America’s hard-won independence.

Oscar did have a 4th of July outfit, but he peed on it. Which means he’ll probably grow up to be a flag burner.

Later on we made our own party, a cookout just for three. Hamburgers, hot dogs, potato chips and pasta salad.

There were no fireworks, no marching bands, no sparklers or star-spangled banners. Instead we listened to the sounds of the wind in the pines, of music coming from speakers propped up in the open window, and of the voices and laughter of our little family.