THE RED WHITE AND BLUES.

The 4th of July this year, in a word, sucked. Which is tough because I’ve been dealing with brutal homesickness lately and really could have used a star spangled day.

On the docket: A street festival in downtown Franklin concluding with a kids parade at 5pm, a cookout (formerly known as a BBQ) and dinner outside, fireworks at 9.

In reality: We wake up to dark rain clouds that do not understand patriotism. But WE do, so we dutifully put on our red, white, and blue attire and head over to Franklin. There were a ton of vendors and food trucks, and a live band, and bounce houses for the kids.. But there is just nothing fun about a looming rain storm. We walk down the street, take a picture with some flags, and pretty much run back to the car MINUTES before it started absolutely pouring.

And it kept raining. And raining. We ate outside anyway since the back porch is covered, but it was so depressingly gloomy. Not shockingly, the fireworks in our neighborhood were cancelled because it turns out it’s hard to watch fireworks in a monsoon. Downtown Nashville still had fireworks, but at that point, there’s no way we were going downtown in said monsoon. I actually think the only major win on the 4th was for the M80 business, because no storm was going to stop our freedom loving neighborhood from enjoying loud explosives while terrifying dogs and waking sleeping children.

The moral of the story: Droughts are bad, but on the 4th of July, droughts are kind of helpful. 2016 in Los Angeles.

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Clea Shearer

Los Angeles native living in Nashville. Mother to Stella Blue and Sutton Gray and wife to the best photographer in the US of A. Currently learning to live life with a southern accent.

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