The 4th of July

Here in the States, it's a holiday weekend. Today is our independence day. It's a day of ambivalence for me on most years ~ we promised so much, and delivered so little (with a hat tip to John Adams, who was only one of seven founding fathers to never own slaves {only one of the seven was from outside of New England, I'm just saying} and was probably America's first male feminist, marrying a woman whose education and advice he valued and insisting his daughters be educated equally to his sons) ~ but this year...wow. My ambivalence has ambivalence about this 4th of July. 

So, instead of getting any deeper into the politics of the day, I'm going to tweak and repost something from another blog I used to write. It's still applicable today.

The holiday weekend has brought the emotional beginning of summer and the seasonal PSA here at Stilettos in the Outback. Summer is great ~ beaches (if you're socially distancing!), frosty drinks, picnics (6 feet apart, please), barbecues...yeah, that last one. Folks, have your bbqs. Toast your marshmallows and eat your s'mores. Just please, don't set shit on fire.

This isn't hard. Not lighting shit on fire is remarkably easy, in fact. So easy anyone can do it. Put it on the top of your summer list: Don't Set Shit On Fire. Ta-Dah.

Second on the list? Should you set some shit on fire ~ or someone else should set shit on fire ~ and the people who are in charge of things like this tell you to evacuate, get the fuck out.

The Summer To Do List

1. Don't set shit on fire.

2. Get the fuck out.

Not hard. Very easy. Feel free to pass this along. The firefighters, the smokejumpers, the helicopter pilots, and yes, the people who love them, thank you.