So yesterday--the Fourth of July--was the perfect cure. It reminded me of the childhood summers I spent in Charlottesville, running through the trees, laughing and catching fireflies. It was enchanting.
We started the day with a trip to Roswell to pick up my brother, Jay, at the airport. There was an incident with a bird-sized insect, but mostly we enjoyed hanging out for hours at Hastings Bookstore and eating at The Rib Crib while we waited for Jay's bag to come in on the next flight.
We spent the rest of the evening at the Volpato's annual Fourth of July Barbeque. This is the party that welcomed us into Carlsbad. And sadly, it is the party ushering us out. Temporarily, anyway. Brad and I are talking about making a yearly pilgrammage for this party. It's that good.
It was one of the first times since childhood (my oh-so-happy childhood) that I can recall feeling carefree. I love that feeling. I have to do that more often.
Probably part of my bliss was due to my out-of-charater inclination to observe and savor everything. I knew that I wouldn't be seeing these people every day anymore. And that fact is still hurting my little heart.
Anyway. Click on the photo below for more pictures. Not that you have to. No pressure. Oh, and even though there are no pictures of them, just know that the fireworks were amazing. Especially when the fire started in the neighboring field.
Oh. And I am also lacking pictures of the many girls who assaulted me asking for Jay's name and number. He is, apparently, hot.