How do we celebrate the Fourth of July here in Houston?
Or more accurately, how do we celebrate the 4th here in Sienna Plantation, just outside of Houston proper?
The longer I live here, the more I like my new home. I'm not discounting Midland, mind you. I love my friends back in Midland. But this here Sienna living is growing on me.
The people here are so polite and considerate. And cool. Cool in the good sense, not in the fashionable sense. They're friendly, and nice to each other, and considerate of each other's space and dignity.
Yesterday evening, to celebrate the 4th, our HOA hosted a party of sorts on the amphitheater by the Water Park. (That's right - our HOA does more with the money they extract from us than just tell us what we can do with our own property. They use the money to do things that make life more enjoyable for those who live here. It's what taxes are supposed to be used for.) So GA and I brought our comfy little camp chairs, and set them on the hillside facing the band that was playing for our enjoyment:
They call themselves "Crisis," which is not an especially great name for a band, but they're pretty good for a three piece. They play rock, country, disco, rap (very little of that, thank God), and even some reggae. It felt kind of strange, though, to be a part of this. We were surrounded by what they would have called the "beautiful people" back in the 60's, mostly in California. They are all young, in great shape (nobody fat and ugly like me), and with perfect children, laughing and playing and running and being nice to each other. All races: whites, blacks, Asians, Hispanics, and so forth.
You can't really see it in the picture, because the Google people shrink the fool out of these photos we upload - not that I'm complaining, since it's free.
But how do we celebrate the 4th here in Sienna? Like this.
Before we left for the picnic/festival/party/concert/fireworks display, we cooked some hot dogs. We ate them on American buns, with American chili and American mustard, and I added American jalapeños.
And for my beverage? No, I didn't drink American beer, because I hate beer. I had
Dr Pepper.
Not communist Dr Pepper with communist high fructose corn syrup. This was the real thing, made with
Imperial Cane Sugar, and 10 2 and 4 on the bottle.
And that's the flag in front of our house there, flying proudly above the national soft drink of Texas, in Sienna Plantation, just outside of Houston TX, in the good old US of A.
Take that, radical Muslims. Take that, Democrat and Republican parties. Take that, you LTRB politicians. Blow it out your ears.
And God bless real Dr Pepper and the USA.
