Americana

Since moving here, Kelly has used the word "Americana" more times than in the rest of his life put together. It's true; we live in the heart of the country and there is some kind of -fest going on every weekend which celebrates everything American. We have been to cheesefest (naturally), paperfest, and chickenfest. Instead of calling it a 4th of July celebration, we call it "Communityfest." This is where you get to see the best of the midwest. A brat fry on every corner, funnel cakes, and beer flowing like water.Q: What's more American than snow cones?
A: Buff green aliens, of course. It's Americana!
And then there was that perennial favorite: the petting zoo. At a festival. With puppies, kitties, chicks, baby goats, and llamas that were so ugly that they made my eyes tear up. I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of them, but I did manage to get a shot of the woman behind Lizzie. Nice.
It's Americana!
To really celebrate the 4th, we combined the best things about America:
Good food (especially the dessert kind),
Good friends, and
Fireworks. Every year, the men put on a firework show in whichever street we happen to be. We had the Whistling Petes, the Fountains, and the Spinners this year. The Spinners reminded me of when I was a kid and we used to do a similar show with Dad at the helm. My favorite were the tanks that moved and fired "shots." Do they still make those?
Quickly, and I know that this is not my most flattering picture, I have to mention the women who keep me sane here. My transplanted friends who still, after all the years we've been here, laugh when someone refers to the American "flague (rhymes with plague)." The girls who are my Wisconsin sisters. What better word can I use? (Mindy, we missed you on the 4th. And Marci, in spite of your pneumonia, you're still smiling bigger than I am.)