The 4th

After Carmel, we went back to S.F. and spent the 4th of July in Sausolito.  Ili needed to see it, I thought, and Marin County, the way the homes are built on the cliffs, poles driven deep into the precarious earth for support, one house seemingly atop another, entering through the carport and going down into the home.  Driving those roads, however, was not her thing.  She was a little tense. 

But the bar where we had a very good lunch was alright, and I sat next to a very patriotic girl dressed in some sort of Southern Charm outfit she had managed to put together with elan.  Ili, being generous at the moment (or perhaps meanly sarcastic) told me to take the picture.  I tried to capture the Patriotic Gore in all its colorful glee.  You know. 

That night back at our room at the famous Niko Hotel, there were fireworks.  I guess.  We didn't make it very far and were asleep before we saw or heard the celebration.  That afternoon, a fog had rolled in.  There was no point in going to the roof of the hotel.  The city was blanketed.  There was nothing to see. 

I am a quiet patriot.  I don't need the bang bang and kaboom to show it.  My patriotism is deep  seated in the pursuit of freedom.  Purportedly, that is why we have police and a military force--to protect my/our freedoms.  That is one of the few Mission Statements I have ever truly appreciated.