Ask me where I’m from, I say Chicago. But little known secret: I’ve never spent an entire summer here. So begins my series of chronicling my first summertime.
I like holidays so much to the point that in college, I took notes with ink tailored to the season (orange & black: Halloween, red & green: you get the point). So I couldn’t wait for July 4th, especially when my plans turned out to be so spectacular.
In a nutshell, the three-day weekend went like so, starting 6 p.m. Friday night: carefully planned Red, White, and Blue outfits; crazy dance raver lightshow concert; many many grilled meats and beers with friends from here and friends from there; sitting on the beach in Lake Michigan (sunburn, reading, reading, sunburn and reading); more grilled meats with wine this time; fireworks; White Sox game; mustache madness; another grilled meat plus a Lemon Chill this time; more fireworks. And around 11 p.m. Monday night, collapse into bed surrounded by three fans because in true July 4th fashion, it was 90+ degrees, or at least felt like it.
I thought I might go as far as to detail the whole weekend, but all that would entail would be gushing about how wonderful it all was. And that could be boring. So I will just leave it here. Happy 234th Birthday America! Hope 235 is just as fun.