Post-Fourth observations

It got hot, it got noisy and it was filled with moments of genuine enjoyment and some good chuckles. Fourth of July 2007 is now in the books, and I'm going to remember:

Standing outside the porta-potty before the big parade waiting in line and getting bumped from my position twice by clever appeals. There was the gentleman who showed up with the announcement that he had just walked seven blocks to get to the john.

When the two kids in front of me and I didn't seem duly impressed, he leaned over to the kids and said, "You wouldn't be nice and let an old man go in front of you, would you? I'm a Shriner, and I'll make it quick." Of course, the nice kids from the gymnastics group politely complied. When he went inside, I leaned over and said, "I'm an old woman, but I'll still let you go first."

Well, the Shriner must've had seven blocks of bladder build-up cuz he was in there long enough for another woman to come along and say to the kids, "Did you tell these people there was another person in line?" Of course, the kids had to comply; she was their mother, and she said she'd also make it quick. A man standing behind me found these ploys to get in the potty first pretty amusing too; eventually we both made it to the john in time to start the parade.

We waited a long time with our group which waited alongside a mounted horse group. We discovered twice during that wait that when horses go Number One on hot pavement, it sure does smell and splatter a lot more than when they go Number One in grassy fields.

As an old horse lover since just about birth, I discovered and appreciated at age 60 why pooper scoopers behind equine groups are so important in parades. I've never walked the streets behind a horse unit before. Again, dem apples are a whole lot more appealing out in the pastures.
While stepping around the recycled grass plops, I did manage to see a few familiar faces in the crowds, but I have observed that it's damn hard to figure out who a lot of those people are, waving and calling out your name, when they're hiding behind their Foster Grants. I feigned recognition several times and felt bad when I couldn't yell out their names when I waved back.

I also discovered that parade spectating is down in numbers. When you walk First Avenue in downtown Sandpoint on the Fourth of July and one side of First Avenue from Church to Cedar is all but empty, you notice. The crowds along the sidewalks seemed relatively sparse compared to past years, and, as others at our barbecue noted, somewhat apathetic.

Some of us were disappointed to learn that no logging trucks appeared in the parade. Seems logging has taken a complete back seat to contractors, who were well represented. In fact, I saw both Cliff and Rusty Irish standing along the sidewalks.

Also, bagpipe groups have replaced brass bands. I'm wondering if those bagpipers are ever going to start learning some John Phillips Sousa marches to restore some good ol' patriotic American flavor to our country's birthday celebration.

We finished the parade in time to do a little spectating of our own, which allowed me to discover that I still prefer parade spectating because it allowed me to yell out at folks I knew, and that's always been the most fun aspect of attending the parade for me. Anyway, we eventually got out of town after sitting in gridlock for nearly half an hour behind Safeway.

With the barbecue set for our house in late afternoon, I had time to walk over to the Meserves next door. I hadn't seen Stan and Geneva's daughter Becky since she graduated from high school with my sister Laurie back in 1979. She hasn't changed much, and we had an enjoyable visit, learning once again of small worlds. Seems her lovely daughters, Corey and Mandy, are good friends with the daughters of my dear friend and Appaloosa Journal editor Diane Rice.

Stan Meserve, who's duly proud of his granddaughters, is also pretty enthusiastic about the honey-bee swarm which has been residing in his yard since they escaped Chad Moore's bee boxes across the road from us about three weeks ago. Chad brought a box to the Meserves and lured the queen and most of the swarm inside the box. He left it there until they all go inside their home away from home, and Stan's been having a great time watching the workings of these wonderful insects.

While walking home from Meserves, I met Gary Finney on the road. He's among our group of classmates who's headed to "the other side." Gary turns 60 tomorrow, and his boys are throwing a big party for him down at the Dover barn Friday night. We talked horses and horse happenings for a while; then, Gary told me that the next time I write about his independent little terrier in my "newsletter" to be sure to call it a Fox terrier---not a Jack Russell. So, I stand corrected, Gary, and will know from now on that the nose profile makes all the difference in terriers. We're planning to help Gary usher in his new decade this Saturday.

The barbecue turned out all right, but our house set-up begs for relocation the next time we have a barbecue on a hot day. So far, all cooking inside and outside has been on the west side of the house because of convenience of the kitchen. Well, when Bill's thermometer sensor outside indicated a temperature of nearly 120 degrees on those metal steps, we knew why we were feeling sapped. It was too hot, so next time we'll opt for a longer walk with food items to the deck on the east side of the house.

We had dogs, kids and grown-ups yesterday, and I think the dogs had the most fun. We set up a kiddie pool for the kiddies, but Pita, Barbara's blue heeler, figured she was a kiddie too. Pita loved that pool and eventually practiced her doggie paddling so much inside the pool that she separated the bottom from the sides. Needless to say, the pool leaked substantially, but that didn't stop the water activities.

The triplets enjoyed another great activity during the party---picking posies from the flower garden. Most of the women wore plucked yellow lilies in their hair, and Super Man cups provided nice vases for the bouquets of petunias, nasturtiums and daisies. Gracie spent a lot of time washing her flowers. Speaking of lilies, Miss Lily came and joined the party for a while and would have stayed had I not led her back to the barnyard. She rather likes spending time with people these days.

She weathered all the noise and the night sky explosions rather remarkably. The Meserves did some clay pigeon shooting next door, and it seemed that Lily's only concern was being able to watch the action better through the trees that separate our places.

So, all is well on this Fifth of July. The memories are sweet and there are lessons learned about what to do when standing in line at porta-potties and when you can't stand the heat in the kitchen. In one case, you come up with a good story; in the other, you get out of the kitchen.