God Bless America. And cocktails.

When I first started dating my husband, he told me that there are fireworks every 4th of July at the athletic field down the block from his mom's house. I went that first year, expecting a quaint little fireworks show. Well, this Grucci-style extravaganza is FAR from quaint. It is filled with spectacle and color.

While others in the neighborhood surely pack their bags and head out of town to avoid the crowds, noise and litter, my mother-in-law, who never met a spectacle she didn't like, embraced this event. She started the tradition of having a BBQ and inviting everyone she knew, and encouraging her two children to invite everyone that they knew, as well.

Driving home tonight, after the annual trek to Queens to drive home my mother and godmother, I thought about July 4th. How this annual event has turned into not just an event itself, but a way to remember milestones. I remember my dad coming before his passing 12 years ago. I remember the 4ths when I was pregnant (two of them-oy, the heat!), I remember my older daughter's first, as she watched the fireworks from her stroller as I knelt next to her. (OK, full disclosure, here, I do not remember my second daughter's first 4th. Now, this COULD have been the year that the town decided not to have the fireworks. OK, we will go with that. Either way, my darling angel, your future therapy bills are on me.) I remember last year, when we instituted the annual Cupcake Challenge, which requires participants to shove an entire cupcake into their mouths without dropping any and without chewing (we had a male and female winner this year who will square off in the ultimate cupcake challenge championship next year.)

I remember the friends who have made appearances over the years. I will always remember that this year my dear friends could not attend because they were in a far away land adopting a beautiful little girl. And I will remember the cocktails. You see, each year seems to be marked by a different cocktail. One year my sister-in-law's phenomenal margaritas, one year Absolute Mandarin, etc. This year I went with Black Russians. This may, at first, seem like a pretty unpatriotic choice, but I like to think that it represents the diversity in this great country of ours (nice, huh?).

So, after another year of eating way too much, I head off to bed thankful for this annual event. And wondering what next year's cocktail will be.