about those ass slaps.....

well, that may be the most "creative" post title I've used yet :)....

Before I tell that story, though, I just want to thank you for the love and prayers you've sent my way. I feel them, and though I still have some lingering heavy-heartedness (which, I think, is probably normal) from the past few days, my spirit is very peaceful. And I am so grateful! So, thank you! What a blessing friends are!!!!!!

OK, now on to a much more serious topic:

ass slaps.

In a previous post, I mentioned several stories I need to tell. And this was one of them.
So... as the fourth of July approached, I tried to keep my expectations down. You see, I LUH-UH-UUUUV the 4th o' July. The barbeques, the friends, the long days, the fireworks. I love all that the holiday represents. And, as a child, my fourth of July's were as good as it gets. Every year we went to this big neighborhood picnic on the Woods' front lawn. We grilled. All the kids in the neighborhood made on-the-spot bicycle parades and did silly dances that the adults pretended were absolutely fabulous. The day was full of smokey grills, potato salad, watermelon juice, homemade ice cream, barefeet and lots of grass. And the day was always wrapped nicely with a bow with a trip out to East Flagstaff for fireworks. I can still feel the booms of exploding light in my chest. And I can remember how small I felt under a canopy of color, tracing fading sparks through the black sky. As a child, the fourth of July was pure bliss.

But, as an adult, well ... the stories have been a bit different. And I think that BECAUSE my expectations have been so high, the suckiness (when it happens) is even more, well ... sucky. One year, I didn't know anyone where I was living. But I got invited to a barbeque. So, I baked a banana cake with cream cheese frosting, and I made a US flag on the top out of blueberries and strawberries (because I'm really that sort of 4th of July happy). And then, not long after, I got a call saying that the barbeque had been cancelled. Who cancels a barbeque on the 4th of July?? Anyway, so I stayed home by myself, ate my cake and then went and saw The Notebook ... by myself. Another year, I went to the zoo with my boyfriend at the time and my sis and bro-in-law. It was sweltering hot (San Antonio in July!), too hot for many animals to brave the sunshine. Anyway, as we were leaving, I kidd you not, I got divebombed, and stung, by a bee. I watched him fly directly toward my arm and then, OUCH. Well, to shorten a long story, my boyfriend dropped me off at home to care for my arm, told me to call him when I felt better (!) and the sting quickly swelled up my whole arm until it was purple and hot. And I figured purple and hot are both bad adjectives for an arm, so I went to the doctor the next morning, and the sting had turned into Cellulitus, and my arm was swollen and red for about 3 weeks thereafter. And, then there was the 4th where I I told my sister how much I loved barbeques and missed having them, and because she is a sweet heart of a person, she said, "Suz, we'll barbeque this year! We'll have an awesome 4th!" And, she meant it ... until the morning of the 4th when we all woke up to realize that it was going to hit 100 degrees that day and 85 percent humidity. So, instead, we ate chicken around the table in the cool comfort of air conditioning. Don't get me wrong, I know that I am so blessed to have spent the fourth of July with family, to have had good cake to eat when I was alone :), to have lived in a country where one doesn't lose her arm because of Cellulitus. I know that. But, my fourths haven't been ... stellar.

Anyway, ALLL of that to say that THIS year, I decided to lower my expectations for the day ... for obvious reasons. My roomies and I decided to head out to Huntington Beach because we'd read that there were going to be lots of booths, a little street fair, and then fireworks over the ocean. Still, no expectations. Upon arriving on the scene, we discovered there were, in fact, lots of booths, and a street fair. And there were also atleast 50,000 people in a 5 or 6 block radius. So, after searching out a parking space for a solid half hour (and being offered one for $50 dollars!!!!), we were losing hope. But, as we drove by a row of homes, several men were out on the porch of one of them, and this guy waved us down, "you can park in my driveway!!! Come on in!" Split decision. Free parking space? We'll take it.

However, as he rushed over to greet us, I think all of us realized, ruh roh, we can't just park and run. That would be rude. Ruh Roh. And within a few moments, we were shaking hands and exchanging names with several middle-aged, barely sober, very friendly men! Disclaimer: we stayed out in the front yard. Don't worry, Mom and Dad. LOOOOONG story short, one of the men was particularly fond of my roommate, Jaime, and I won't forget the look on her face when he simply reached over and, well, smacked her on the bum. She just looked at me, and calmly, slightly wild-eyed, said, "Susan, I just got my ass slapped for a free parking space."

We learned a few of their stories. How one of them lost his job, and was driving home from his mother's funeral, feeling lost, and spotted a plot of land for sale. We learned about how he bought it that day for $600,000 and sold it the next for 2.3 million. We learned that he bought and sold his way to a fortune so that now, he doesn't work, and that he's "pretty good at doing nothing." We learned stories. And then, we departed, thanking them for the parking space, and headed down to the beach for fireworks ... but not before each of us received an unexpected ass slap. Anyway, I've talked your ear off. But that's the story. The fireworks were lovely. The crowds were worth it. The ass slaps were ... unfortunate.

But, it was a memorable fourth. A good fourth. I spent it with my roomies. We got In'N'Out Burger. And we watched fireworks over the ocean. And we even got ... ahem ... a free parking space.