Barely Legal*

The hot days invoke a certain indolent lifestyle that I find quite appealing. Yesterday we drove down the road to a winery/deli/gelato place all arranged around a courtyard. We sat under the wide eaves sipping Prosecco and watching the tourists come and go. The owner comes in at six o'clock every morning to make espresso for the locals, who are welcome to bring their dogs. We may have found our morning coffee place....

We sat amongst the ruins of our TV room (furniture covered in plastic, heavy machinery and bags of broken mortar and stones lying around) and watched the Tour de France. Peter came by with Dana to give us his home run ball from the Little League World Series "for our new mantel". We assured him that as soon as we have a mantel, he can come over and choose the perfect place for it.

Today is Independence Day. While we sat under the arbor this morning, reading the paper and drinking our coffee in the cool of the early morning, the police were setting up roadblocks to waylay drunk drivers, the firefighters were girding themselves for the inevitable fires started by illegal fireworks, and the local parks were filling with people setting up for elaborate picnics. Our friends in Sebastopol are having their annual 4th of July barbecue today, just two months after Judy had heart surgery. Her continued recovery is more than enough reason to celebrate. I think we will be able to do it quite nicely without burning the place down or getting arrested....

The picture of a fireworks stand in rural Sebastopol (not in the city limits, so apparently barely legal) reminds me of the editorial cartoon in today's paper. A guy in one of these stands is saying to his customer, "If you want to cut out the middleman, I can just come and burn your house own."