Barkcloth 1970's dress (late 60's maybe?)-thrifted in Massachusetts decades ago
White cork heeled sandals-K Mart
Hair flower-Tiff and Tam
1970's Triffari necklace-Hand-Me-Ups
Fragrance-None, I think it was the prairie dog.
Don't eat the cobbler!
White dress-Gordman's about 8 years ago
Enid Collins bag-Antique mall
1950's clip earrings-Hand-Me-Ups
1950's milk glass coil bracelet-Hand-Me-Ups
This is a dual holiday week with Canada Day and the Fourth of July. I'm not Canadian, though my grandmother did live in Canada before settling in the United States. As it was the first stop for my Dad's side of the family in the New World, we observe it as a day to celebrate our neighbo(u)rs, and appreciate the refuge they have given to so many. And it is a great excuse to eat poutine and butter pies. Thanks, Canada-we love you guys!
We live in a location that permits us to see fireworks displays from all over the city and surrounding areas easily (higher elevation helps). We'll have our annual July 4th picnic at the park (weather permitting) and then head next door in the evening to watch the panoramic view of fireworks from the lawn of the college next door. Last year, we had it to ourselves (and the security guards) and that was great. No crowds, drunks, idiots shooting off guns (because that's how idiots celebrate around here) just us and a city's worth of entertainment two minutes from home. Danny's been having some terrible asthma following what we thought was just a simple cold, and the last place I want him is in the poor-air-quality of a fireworks show. There's something to be said for living upwind of nearly everything.
I promised to bake something from my terrifying Americana collection of cookery books for the celebration (they will NOT eat jelly (Jell-O), so that rules out quite a lot of traditional holiday desserts). I have a few days to come up with something.
Not shown-three librarians
watching laughing from the desk as I make an idiot of myself. Oh well, they know me.