This is a little long, but I just had to share.

Our daughter and son-in-law live in the Washington suburbs, and we made plans to visit them over the Fourth. This was no small undertaking as we live clear across the country in Arizona, and had a family wedding to attend in California on July 2nd. But, undaunted, we bought plane tickets and made plans for months.

My daughter's plan was to watch the fireworks from a place near the Washington Monument and have a picnic dinner while we wait. Having watched innumerable televisions shows from the capital on this holiday, I asked her if it isn’t better to actually go to the concert by the Capitol building , hear the music and watch from there. “No, Mom, you can’t see the fireworks from there. I know just the spot.” Okay, she’s the boss. So, being ever the Girl Scout, I packed along with my wedding ensemble and my clothes for a 12 day trip, the following: A patriotic quilt made by my mother-in-law, candles, a centerpiece, plastic forks, knives and plates, red/white and blue napkins, AND a dessert. My husband was surprised I didn't bring the fried chicken as well.
(I also had a new flag-themed top to go with my navy blue shorts…I was READY!)

The day finally arrived. We have been invited to Kristy and Martin’s house for brunch before we head out for the evening’s festivities. Waking up in a very dark hotel room I discover the clouds in the sky are the color of ink, and that rumbling noise I hear is not my husband’s stomach, but thunder. I live in Arizona. I’m not used to rain and clouds. It’s always sunny…especially on holidays. This is a wrinkle Mrs. Girl Scout hadn’t anticipated.

On the way over to the kids' house, the heaven's let loose like I have rarely seen before. It was raining sideways. The rumbling thunder has been replaced by large smacks. Lightening is crackling all around. It sounds like a huge domestic disturbance in the sky. My son-in law turned on the tv, and we listened to not very optimistic forecasters holding out hope for a break around 9 pm. So, being the democratic family that we are, we decided to take a vote on whether to venture forth with our plans. Like all good politicians, after much debate and campaign speeches from both sides of the aisle, we decided to decide later. We’ll have brunch first, and, if necessary, have a carpet picnic in the kids’ living room. So, brunch begins...or at least the preparation thereof. At precisely 11:00 A.M. my other daughter, husband and I are told to sit on the couch, where we are each handed a mimosa. Kristy and Martin are newlyweds, married not quite six months. All requests to help are refused. The want to do this themselves. So, we politely sip our mimosas and listen to the television forecasters compete with the clang of pots and pans. Now it must be shared that the new bride had only put "Cute things" on her wedding registry; if it didn’t pass the “cute” test, it was not requested. Practicality had nothing to do with it. So, the new husband is beating eggs for omelets in a popcorn bowl from Pottery Barn. The bride is making pancakes in a 2 inch deep frying pan without non-stick coating (it didn't look cute), and she didn't think to ask for a griddle. The dining room table is right off the kitchen and is all set up and ready. A bouquet of American flags sit proudly in a very cute vase. We see Martin deliver an omelette to the table, then come back and take it away. Next the sound of the disposal is added to the symphony of pots, pans, television and thunder. More eggs are beaten in the Pottery Barn popcorn bowl. Another omelette soon appears, and just as quickly disappears. I can see my daughter trying to pry stuck pancakes from her cute pan. There are sausages sweating in the microwave. The microwave? But of course, since the skillet has been used for the pancakes. Martin stops his process of beating eggs, and throwing out omelettes long enough to serve us another round of mimosas. We ask again if we can help, almost pleading this time. “NO!” They say it in unison. Exactly two hours, 12 minutes and a few more mimosas later, we sit down to brunch. Martin apologizes for the delay, explaining that he was having trouble getting the omelettes to work (ya think?) so he kept trying and trying to get them perfect. Three dozen eggs later, he decided to just go with scrambled. By now, of course, the pancakes and sausages are cold. Kristy asks the million dollar question, “Is everything cold?” Fueled by champagne, Scott, Ginger and I all chime in at once. “Oh, no! Everything’s perfect.” “Just perfect.” “Great breakfast!” “You did a super job.” Bride and groom exchange a glance and a smile. It is a wonderful meal.

The weather, however, is still not so wonderful. The rain would come in buckets for about a half an hour, then it would clear up, then it would start all over again, more furious than ever. The TV forecasters are ringing their hands. The most rain, they tell us, that has ever fallen on Washington D.C. on the Fourth of July was in 1890 something and that was 2 inches. They are afraid that record will be broken (It was.) We take our postponed vote. Unfortunately, we take this vote during one of the lulls in the storm. We decide we have come all this way and a little rain can’t hurt us much. So, we pack up the quilt, candles, centerpiece, chicken, cole slaw, fruit, cheese AND my dessert and add to all that the following: 5 lawn chairs, 4 umbrellas, 2 Notre Dame rain ponchos, 1 plastic sheet and a cooler filled with ice. We all pile into Martin’s car and drive into the District. We park at Kristy’s office lot (it was free) on Capitol Hill. Capitol Hill is at the opposite end of a very long soggy Mall from the Washington Monument. I inquire again if it wouldn’t better to just stay put and watch from the Capitol. “No” it the succinct reply. Okie-dokie. We start our trek, looking like pack mules carrying provisions for an army. No sooner do we get a distance away from our car with all our paraphenalia, than the heaven's let loose again. Completely drenched, we take refuge under a food tent set up on the mall, and make very close friends with a nice couple from Pennsylvania, who have just sat down to their chicken dinner. The irony does not escape me. We could have just purchased the picnic!!! We look ridiculous. Rain is pouring down our faces; we are soaked to the skin. My, but we are having fun. When the rain lets up again, (it always does, it seems, just enough to tease us for awhile), we trudge further down the mall to the "spot" Kristy has chosen. Everyone has no doubt seen pictures of Washington on the Fourth of July, where the Mall is wall to wall people. Well, not this year. We are alone, but for one other family and a long line of port-a-potties. In the vast expanse of grass before the Washington Monument, sits the Richardson/Hellmer family, in a downpour, pools of water collecting on our patriotic quilt, staring at each other through ponchos, pulled down baseball caps and umbrellas. My new top looked cute, though. We are alone but for the TV trucks and cameras who I know must be ready to go on air to report on the 5 idiots sitting on the Mall. But all is not lost...Scott and Martin discover a beer truck, and are off and running. Back with refreshments that mix ever so well with the residual effect of the mimosas, the rain doesn't seem so bad, and we start laughing. We can't stop laughing in fact, because it is all so absurd. After about an hour of this, the rain finally does let up enough for people to join us (chickens...where were THEY all afternoon?) in time for the fireworks. Which, by the way, were spectacular!!! Kristy comments when they end, “You know if we had sat closer to the Capitol, we might have been able to hear the music too. Hmm, maybe that’s an idea for next time.” Sometimes, there aren’t enough mimosas in the world.

Even reading this with my one good eye, I laughed till I cried. I lived in Maryland and worked in D.C. for 3 years and rememer all the 4th's spent on the mall. Very funny, thanks...

I'm also a little misty eyed from the great memories and laughter. Thanks for sharing. They will never forget their first married 4th. I can only hope my husband and I will be such troopers when our kids are getting married.

I loved the brunch preparations. It brings back memories of anxious days/evenings of entertaining. Funny how time and experience changes things. Now I can throw a meal together in no time.

You remind me of my older sister with your theme quilt, shirt, napkins, centerpiece, etc. She's the Martha in our family. She ahs decorations, shirts, sweaters, vests for every occasion. She even has dishes for every holiday.

I live in Maryland and have spent ONE Fourth of July at the Mall. There was definitely something special about it, but once was enough.

This is a wonderful, funny, heart-warming story (hey, something has to be warm after all that rain ) that will provide great memories for decades to come.

Cute story!! Newlyweds! You have to love them. Just what were those omelets SUPPOSED to look like? Did he want big, fat, fluffy omelets? Or the run of the mill omelets? Hope he doesn't do the same thing with his parenting..hmm, this one didn't turn out right....better get a new one. Yikes!

In our town of 8,000 or so, we can just drive/walk/ride down the high school and watch the fireworks from the football field or the baseball field. You are right under them. Sometimes we stay home because nowhere in town is too far away from the fireworks. I can sit at the end of my driveway and watch them (and have). But this year with the thought that I may move (may not move..don't know) I didn't want to regret not being where the action was.

WizZA, your story about the brunch reminded me of when I was newly married and I planned a big picnic with my mother-in-law and my husband's boss and wife (they were like family). Mom made fried chicken,etc; Marian made potato salad, etc; and I brought a can of pork and beans!!!! Ah, newlyweds...you have to love them. (Of course, I have never lived that one down)