Fourth.

Last summer, the husband and I became expatriates for ten days, visiting London, Dublin, Galway and Amsterdam.  It was an epic adventure (deserving its own post – or posts –  someday), but as a result we didn’t really celebrate* the 4th of July.

Our Irish 4th.

So this year, it was back to good ol’ American business as usual.  Our friend Nicholas’ parents graciously allowed us to take over their house/yard/grill/swimming pool in the suburbs for a day, and we made good use of them all.

Lucy and some patriotic drinks.

My vintage bathing suit score.**

Dudes with beards, throwing things.

Impromptu swimsuit fashion shoot with Kait.

From Kait’s camera.

Must have for hot-day drinking.

Totally un-posed, I swear.

AMERICA!

Nicholas and guitar.

It was the best kind of summer day: hot, hazy, and dreamy, with good food and drinks made by good friends.  After experiencing one or two Independence Days in the city, I now would much rather get the heck out of Boston, away from the crowds, and into a backyard somewhere quiet*** and suburban.  It felt like spending a day with family – which, I suppose, that’s what it was.

* To be fair, taking a tour of the Guinness Brewery actually is like a party in itself.

** Vintage bathing suit c/o my favorite seller at the Davis Flea, Sarka’s Collection.  Bathing suits, silk scarves, dresses galore.

*** Aside from those illegal fireworks.

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