Can you remember a soggier 4th of July weekend?
It drizzled as my daughter and I marched with her preschool in the Oak Park 4th of July parade.
A steady rain fell on a neighborhood block party. Swimsuit-clad kids trembled, blue-lipped and goose-fleshed, as they waited in line for their turn down an inflatable water slide. Adults took shelter on front porches, sipping margaritas and shoveling guacamole onto soggy tortilla chips.
By the time we headed--windshield wipers squeaking--to a barbecue at our friends' house, it was pouring. Buckets and buckets of rain. They'd erected tents in their backyard, but for a couple of hours the rain came down so fast and furious only the children ventured outside.
But finally, around 6pm, the rain stopped. We pigged out on ribs smoked all day, hot dogs, coleslaw, potato salad and rhubarb crisp before saying our goodbyes.
After such a long, wet day, I decided that fireworks might best be enjoyed in high definition, from the comfort of our living room. But as the sky darkened, I couldn't resist. I grabbed my 4 year old daughter and a stroller and pushed her the mile and half to our local high school football field. We arrived just minutes before the first blast lit up the now nearly cloudless sky.
But the rain wasn't quite finished with us. Sunday the 5th was glorious. We spent time in the city, swam at our local pool and picked up Chipotle for a picnic at Scoville Park.
But the country-rock cover band had only played two songs before the sky opened up again. So we all fled to the Brown Cow Ice Cream Parlor, soaked to the bone.
