Coeur d'Alene Weekend!

On the Friday of the Independence Day weekend, the boys got to Coeur d'Alene in time to enjoy one of Grandaddy Dan's minor feasts (he's such a good cook that each meal is beyond gourmet, and really, I don't know why he doesn't tip the scales at 450 pounds---oh that's right!  he has self-control).  Saturday morning we McMurrays introduced Grandaddy to the Cabela's, and the boys' plaintive looks worked their magic on grandpa, who bought them tokens (I usually just let them pretend).

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 Then Granddaddy took us to the park and walk-through at the Post Falls dam (a place I had never knew existed, and I moved to Cd'A in 1989).  Bryce pretended to shoot animals, and Deacon was pretty much ready to fall asleep by the time we reach the merry-go-round.

After another delish dinner we set sail for the beach, and ended up near the NIC sailboats.  The boys loved throwing rocks into the water, and Deacon enjoyed throwing himself into the water, so Granddad had to monitor the duration of his exploring--Deacon's short, shirt, sweatshirt were soaked, but somehow his little undies were dry, magic.

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Bryce, Deacon, and I met up with Grandma Greta and Papa Glen at Opa's house, just in time to head to Sherman Avenue for the parade.  Our reserved seating was taken (our fault for arriving just minutes before the parade), but some really sweet people overheard Mom and I discussing how we could make sure that the kids could see, and said we were welcome to pop down in front of them and sit on the curb.  The boys loved seeing all the flags, guns, soldiers, and horses.  I loved the Deer Park Princesses float, whereon the six princesses did synchronized dance moves to Funkytown; then Mom got up and danced along with them, and I realized that you are never too old to be embarrassed by your parents. We headed back to Opa's for a huge lunch--topped off with a box of chocolates; which were hard for Bryce to chose between.

Then Dad and I tried to thoroughly wear out the boys so they'd nap well in the hopes that we'd have no pre-fireworks fireworks. As we waited for 1 1/2 hours for the fireworks to begin--sitting on a grassy knoll just northeast of the Independence Point beachfront and parking lot--both boys were thankful to have a grandpa to wrestle with since they had way more energy then I'd counted on the napping to provide. 
As dusk melted into darkness, the boys snuggled closer, and Dad and I waited for something other than another song from the Hagadone band: an announcement or a count down.  Our grassy knoll was nicely landscaped, with shrubbery and dotted with some medium sized trees.  When the fireworks burst forth we and the other 70 or so people on the knoll quickly popped up, grabbed our things and jetted into the adjacent parking lot for an unobstructed view.  Apparently, we'd unanimously forgotten just how high it is possible for fireworks to go.  The fireworks were great, and worth all the waiting--plus Phil and I had recently watched a Dirty Jobs segment on how the big ones are made, so it was all the more poignant.