Fourth fun with favorites

For the majority of my life, I've spent the Fourth of July on Cape Cod. After meeting Sean, and him having lived essentially on the cape, that tradition has continued for nearly 7 years. We returned to Plymouth last weekend for a fantastic Fourth of July celebration full of my favorite people.

Sean's sisters and brother, and their respective significant others, are like the brothers and sisters I never had but so wanted. The whole lot of them is endlessly entertaining and I love them to pieces.

Tim spawned the idea for a weekend clam bake. He arrived at Sean's parent's house carrying 10 pounds of clams, an entire bag full of corn, something like 5 pounds of linguisa, potatoes, hot dogs and onions. Talk about making an entrance!

Tim also has been on a mixed drink-making kick ever since returning from his honeyoon in Antigua. Tim consumed nine chocolate monkeys (choco liquor, banana and choco syrup) by the time we finished clam-baking. Needless to say, Tim was drunk. And SO funny.

Sitting poolside we chatted, the girls and their mom played card games, while myself and the boys played Bocci ball and were thoroughly entertained by Tim, who later threw himself in the pool while bear hugging me. 

That evening saw myself, Sean and Tim fishing down at the cranberry bogs in front of Sean's parent's house. Sean finally caught something larger than the palm of his hand, I got my line tangled in a tree (I don't fish), Tim fell in the bogs while picking flowers for Doris and we ended the evening teasing frogs near one particular bog pump station. 

The Fourth of July was spent entirely outside and in the same good company. We ate crazy amounts of seafood, played a game of softball, more Bocci, swam and explored downtown Plymouth while eating ice cream (Raspbery sorbet for this lacto!). 

(Chris & Renee, Tim & Doris, myself & Sean). Roy & Jennie are missing!

Jumping photos are the best. Ever.

Plymouth, "America's Hometown" turns into a swelling mass of tourists and residents alike during this particular weekend. Burial Hill, located in front of Plymouth Rock, becomes swarmed with people waiting to watch the fireworks. You're always bound to run into someone you know.

We had the best seats in the house - we watched the fireworks from a rock jetty right in Plymouth Harbor. Our feet and butts fell asleep, but it was totally worth it. 

The scrambling of everyone looking for a spot and the ensuing chaos of everyone trying to leave quickly is exciting. It's always a rush winding through the maze of people (tourists) looking for exits. Thankfully, we know the side streets and quick ways to exit, so while our exit was not gracious at all (Doris....."I'll have you arrested!"....) it was painless. 

And the Fourth isn't complete without backyard sparklers!