Dont Rain On My Parade

8 Sep

It’s been a long Labor Day weekend. It was the first time since most likely my early childhood since I’ve missed a Labor Day in my hometown.

Labor Day is a huge holiday in my little, rural town. They celebrate with 100s of tractors, marching bands, local high school teams, and reunion floats. After the parade, everyone goes to the high school for a big chicken dinner prepared by a local church and the firefighters. There’s also the obligatory talent show, beer tent, carnival games, and bingo tent.

It’s great fun when you are in high school or have a small child to chase down parade candy for you. I lost interest last year when I realized I was officially one of only two or three friends that was still attending the festivities without a husband or child.

B made it up to me with a parade of my own… made out of various toys I have around my apartment.

I did get to spend part of my extended weekend at the Chicago Fire game with The Ginger. It was a disappointing tie game, but the place was sold out and the stadium was dancing. The next day, I had my required goodbye-to-the-beach. It was lovely just to sit on the shore while reading a book. I’m going to miss the summer, I really am.

And now, I’m bundled up in a big cardigan, sitting in the office, hoping to think of something witty or mildly funny to write. I’ve got nothing, dear friends. I’m blank. And I’m out.

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