People across America do different things to celebrate Independence Day. Some go to parades and wave mini flags. Others go on picnics. Millions gather in parks throughout the land to watch fireworks shows.
Yeah, we did all these things, too. BUT I had the distinct pleasure of dragging my (firefighter) hubby to have our pictures taken with the firemen (who happened to be on shift at the park).
It. Was. Excellent.
Oh yes I did. I hurdled over toddlers and pushed schoolchildren aside to get to the tarp of uniforms and department accoutrement. Yes, our basement and garage are chock full of these sorts of trappings but as any kid can assure you, it’s always more fun to play with someone else’s toys.
Chris was mortified.
Fortunately (for Chris) I’d ridded myself of the garb just before the chief arrived—I have a knack for avoiding trouble. For that reason (among MANY, trust me) I would make a terrible firefighter. Fortunately (for our community) guys like this make excellent firefighters.
And fortunately (for the ladies) they almost look better in the uniform than I do. Not to say that they couldn’t achieve my hotness if they, you know, worked out once in a while. Or something. Just saying.
I’m particularly partial to that dude on the lower left. Even with his ‘80s mullet-length mowhak—a manly show of solidarity (after going through Navy, Army, wildland and now city fire crews, you stop asking for explanations).
Happy Birthday, America!