We just got back from the land of cruiser bikes--not Provo, friends--Huntington Beach. I got a very mediocre tan, as I am a walking skin cancer risk pamphlet and love my spf's, and I finally ate real Pinkberry. And the 4th is huge. I mean, Christmas huge. We went to a parade that we thought would be a solid hour, and two and half hours later we walked home with crusty paint on our faces and a slight case of heatstroke. Not that it wasn't worth it. E class celebrities, two different groups with mini horses, and the Republican Women and Democrat floats battling it out for top spot. (My vote? The repubs had some great dance tunes, but the dems brought serious heat with a full on big band.) Also, we sat next to a lady who I swore was my mom's more jowly twin. (You are the more beautiful (and thin) one, mom) However, it did not stop me from taking several creepster pics of her throughout.
Nothing like a free flag pin. I grabbed another one to put on my pantsuit.
Farm fresh carrots are not a good parade snack when a horse goes out of control and wanders dangerously close.
Nope, not Pam. Just a California karate mom. I missed Boise at that moment.