Happy Independence Day!

Our 4th of July will be busy this year. It will begin with a morning of work for me, but not the normal type of work. I have coordinated Nevada Ballet Theatre's entry in the Summerlin Patriotic Parade, so I will be walking in the parade with 50 people, for a crowd of about 35,000. It will be hot but fun.

Then, we will head to our friend's house for his 4th of July party, which should be an extravaganza. He already has a pool, but he ups things a notch by renting an inflatable water slide as well.

After Jude jumps into the pool 100+ times, we will head home for fireworks in our backyard, and perhaps we'll sing Happy Birthday to America. And eat a few cupcakes.

Happy Independence Day!

I Want to Live Where I Can Paint My Front Door Red

Aunt Brenda, Uncle Bill, and Mom outside the house they grew up in.

This morning, I found myself sitting on the couch for a few moments, petting George, and looking out at our courtyard. The courtyard is the reason we bought the house. It's smack dab in the middle of the house, meaning that the only way to access it is from inside. We put plants out there, a jasmine vine on the wall, and a Jacuzzi that fools people by looking like a fountain.

It is beautiful out there, and I do love our house. But we just got back from Easter weekend visiting family in Indiana, and as I looked at our courtyard I couldn't help but make comparisons to houses in the Midwest versus in Las Vegas. Years from now, will we drive past this house and point and feel sentimental and nostalgic? Will the future owners feel the presence of our history here?

For some reason, although we have great memories here and will have more to come, and although I love this house, it's hard to picture a future of sentiment. I sat there staring at our fountain, trying to figure out why.

It could be that despite my efforts to the contrary, it is still hard for me to embrace Las Vegas, and the desert, as home.

It could be that a house should be brimming with family, and all of mine (except my immediate family, of course!), are elsewhere.

It could be because all the houses are new, while houses elsewhere else have true history...generations of people who love and live in a house.

And now I think I've nailed it...it's the subdivisions. The rows and rows of houses that look alike and are squeezed in together. In the Midwest, you can tell someone that you live on Sweetbriar Lane in the house with the porch and the red front door. Here, your house looks like everyone else's, and you're not allowed to paint anything red.

So I must find ways to make this house have some sentiment. More get-togethers with with friends and family and food and laughter. More play dates for Jude and his friends.

And I must find a way to change my perception of "home." That is a big undertaking.