Ah, the Fourth of July, that holiday in which Americans blow shit up. When I woke this morning, it was actually sunny (!), a rare occurrence in Seattle for the Fourth. Of course, it hasn’t lasted…I’m sitting under the window of my living room and the clouds are rolling in.
The BF went out to his family’s last night and blew shit up with his brothers, as males are wont to do. Since fireworks hold my attention for about two minutes and their displays last around an hour and a half, I begged off and stayed home, catching up on some Deadliest Catch (har).
Anyway, Happy Fourth, everyone. Try not to lose any fingers or eyebrows. And when making sparkler bombs, make sure you get the kind with magnesium in them.
To celebrate, here’s one of my favorite U2 songs. I know, I know, they’re Irish, but since this song is more bluesy than most everything else in their repertoire and features one of America’s greatest guitarists, I figured it was appropriate.