Three Lovely Days

This is ridiculous, since I'm not even American, but the Star Spangled Banner always makes me teary. It's something about the pomp and ceremony, the earnestness, the way people take off their hats and put their hands over their hearts and stare straight ahead, and when it's played by a lone violinist flanked by a fully-uniformed representative of each branch of the U.S. armed forces, like it was at the baseball game we went to on the Fourth of July......well, let's just say it's a good thing I was wearing the biggest sunglasses I own.

So that was our Fourth of July, me weeping through the opening ceremonies at AT&T Park, and later during God Bless America in the seventh inning stretch, and then yet again when the announcer asked all current members of the military and veterans to stand up so we could give them a round of applause. If there's one thing the United States does really well, it's patriotism---well, patriotism and Target---and I'm not sure why that affects me so much (see again: British passport) but perhaps I'm just a sucker for a flag cake and a fireworks display.

Or maybe it's because whenever I hear large crowds of people singing the American national anthem, I think, immediately, of this Eddie Izzard skit (the bit I'm talking about starts at around 2:20, but hell, watch the whole thing from the beginning, I'll wait.)

After the baseball game was over, we headed over to our friend Nathan's apartment because I don't know about you but I think four o'clock on a Friday afternoon is a perfectly wonderful time for a margarita and a slice of homemade peanut butter pie. Nathan's birthday is the day before Sean's, you see, and his girlfriend Alison---who is obviously a much better girlfriend than I am---had baked Nathan his favorite dessert. Since I had baked Sean.....hmm, exactly nothing to celebrate the 32nd year of his birth, I piggybacked onto Alison's baking prowess instead, which was clever, actually, because it meant no dirty dishes in my sink. (Note to self: Good trick! Remember that again for next year.)

Full of tequila and butter, we walked halfway through the city (effect of tequila and butter: neutralized) until we came to Sean's favorite burrito joint, the place where they see him walk in the door and shout "you again! number three with chorizo!" We all carried our foil-wrapped parcels to the park and ate them on the grass in the half-light, and then we walked up one of the steepest hills in San Francisco to watch the fireworks over the bay.

And sure, that would have been a good idea, but this being San Francisco, a heavy layer of fog sat over the water, meaning every firework sent up into the sky disappeared immediately under the opaque blanket of moisture, and there wasn't so much a chorus of "oohs" and "aahs" as a tentative collection of "ohs" and "ums" and a general apologetic murmur of "hmm, oh well, maybe next year." (Thank goodness my Flickr page displayed firework picture after firework picture from my contacts living in less foggy parts of the country, that's all I can say! Living vicariously: coming soon to an online photo management application near you!)

The next day, Sean and I went berry-picking, and I am not even kidding, that is what we did, even though I know it sounds like the punchline to a joke. We put on our hats and we slapped on our sunscreen, and we drove out to Menlo Park and spent two and a half very lovely hours picking raspberries, blackberries, and boysenberries.

And now we have more raspberries, blackberries, and boysenberries than you can shake a stick at, and so I made an apple and blackberry crumble for dinner this evening (baking! I am finally getting in on the act!) and this, together with our pleasantly tanned and scratched forearms, many meals consumed outside at pavement cafes, and the fact that today we found a farmer's market within walking distance of our house---one where we're not sacrificing our firstborn's college tuition for half a pound of fingerling potatoes, I'M LOOKING AT YOU, FERRY BUILDING---means it's finally starting to feel like summer's arrived.

Of course, I'll be wearing tights to work tomorrow and sitting on the radiator to warm myself up, you mark my words; this is only San Francisco, after all, not heaven. Though sure, alright, sometimes it's pretty darn close.

(PS: I finally updated my playlist on the right! Thanks to Superblondgirl for introducing me to Grand Archives.)