With cherry tomatoes, sweet corn, peppers, cucumbers, black beans, red onion, avocado and tortilla chips
For the past two years, Roo and I would go to a bar near his uncle’s townhouse before climbing Beacon Hill to watch the fireworks.
The first year I may have had too many drinks on an empty stomach; stumbling on seemingly flat cobblestone paths and wondering why the townhouse’s doors were so hard to open.
The second year I learned my lesson and didn’t pass on the appetizers Roo ordered. (While I may have found Jack Williams commentating on the 4th amusing1, most of the guests did not.)
This year the party was canceled, which left Roo and I to debate if we’d go downtown by ourselves or stay home.
“The Fourth is my favorite holiday.”
“Really? Because all this time, I had no idea.”
“Oh stop,” I said, crossing my arms, “you knew.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean we should go down to the Esplanade at 6 a.m. to fight for a spot, only to suffer from heat stroke by noon.”
“I heard it’s supposed to rain on Wednesday.”
“Well, what do you want to do, Mr. My-Favorite-Holiday-Is-Christmas-So-I-Shouldn’t-Even-Have-A-Say.”
“One, Christmas is awesome. There are presents, a tree that makes your house smell great, and Irish Coffees to drink in front of the fireplace. And two, we could make our own sangria.”
“I don’t know how a smelly tree can beat fireworks, but you had me at sangria.”
1 Because he acted like he wasn’t wearing pants behind the anchor desk, of course.