[Lindy lives in Alberta, Canada, with her husband, son and daughter. Besides blogging, she enjoys running her stationery business and creating new designs for her Etsy shop. You can read her own blog here]
[Lindy lives in Alberta, Canada, with her husband, son and daughter. Besides blogging, she enjoys running her stationery business and creating new designs for her Etsy shop. You can read her own blog here]
In 1785, the first 4th of July parade took place in Bristol, RI. This is the home of the nation's oldest and continuous 4th of July celebration. Just one town over from ours, this small town along the Narragansett Bay throws a huge party to celebrate our nation's independence. While many of the old homes are decked out in red, white, and blue every day, the 4th of July is the day the town works toward each year.
The people of Bristol are serious about their parade and start staking territory as early as 1AM the morning of. The roads are closed early in the morning and traffic stands still until the parade ends.
For the past 5 years, my mother-in-law has hosted a party just around the corner from the parade route. Her home becomes party central as many of our friends and hers stop by for food, drink, air conditioning, and fun. As this year may be our last here, the celebration was bittersweet.
Here are a few photos I snapped this year (for full screen mode, hover over and click on the 4 arrows on the lower right corner of the photo box).
I was invited to a big formal dinner party at the White House. Initially, I was put off by the fact that I was at the table of least importance. However, as the night progressed, the Obamas began hanging out with me more. The party was apparently to thank staff and choose the gifts to give out to dignitaries in the coming year. I helped the President choose interesting chocolates.
The party went on into the night with people crashing in their ball gowns and tuxedos all around me. I left the party feelilng a bit surprised and disappointed that the President partied the way I do.
