I woke up early for the ladies’ Wimbledon final (go, Williams sisters–love you both!) and was disappointed to discover Breakfast at Wimbledon doesn’t actually include breakfast. So I hopped on my bike in search of an open restaurant that would serve me the brunch I wanted. After a delicious and delightful egg plate, I headed down to the Quarter to check out the crowds streaming in to the Morial Convention Center for the free Essence Fest seminars. I gave quite a few directions and then popped in Harrah’s casino for some good all-American slot play. Then it was off to grill #1, with D. and P. and Charlie the cat and the pool. It’s the Fourth of July, so I got back on the bike and headed uptown for grill #2 with A., K., and D. The fajitas were delicious and held me over until grill #3 with J., S., N., D., P. and E. The day of the many grills was topped off by fireworks in the street. I haven’t done that since I was a kid. P. brought ground bloom flowers and bottle rockets and stink bombs and pop-its and I couldn’t stop smiling. All I needed was a piccolo pete and a pagoda to finish it off, and I would have been back in Boise watching my brother light the fuses. Fireworks have been illegal in most places I’ve lived, it seems. Even in Idaho, fire worries often keep fireworks on the DL. And I’ve usually felt rather curmudgeonly about that particular DL–fireworks are noisy and obnoxious. But tonight I remembered what makes them fun–sparkley things shooting up in the sky, colors, pops, and watching people you love so carefully, usually, light those fuses. Yeah, it was a good day with good friends, and a good bike ride around town.