Can you believe I’ve made it to thirty of these? Almost every Friday, consistently, all the way through the first half of 2026. I’m on a roll, y’all. Somebody check on me if I ever miss one; it means something has gone genuinely wrong.

Happy Fourth of July, one day early. I’ll be honest with you: my feelings about this one are complicated. It’s hard to look around right now and summon the uncomplicated, hot-dog-and-sparkler patriotism I grew up with. And yet. I love this country. Not the bumper-sticker version; the real one, the messy, argued-over, still-becoming one. A place worth loving precisely because it was built to be improved, and 250 years in, that work is nowhere close to finished. So yes, I’m going to celebrate the semiquincentennial (say that three times fast). Loving a place and being clear-eyed about it were never opposites; around here they’re the same thing.

So instead of fireworks this year, here’s what I keep coming back to. I took the picture for this post in 2008, standing in the Great Hall on Ellis Island (the Registry Room, if you want to be proper about it). Between 1900 and 1954, more than twelve million people passed through this room; tired, hopeful, waiting to learn whether they’d be let in. My people were some of them. My mother’s side was Irish, McAuliffes, and when I finally ran the search, the name (with every spelling variation the clerks invented) turned up 1,449 times in the Ellis Island arrival records. Somewhere in that number is my family. I think about that a lot on the Fourth. The country I love is the one that let them in. (There’s a whole Sunday post in this. Consider this the trailer.)

Here’s what’s happening this week:

• The actual 4th: We’re staying home this year, and it’s not just sentiment. We’re in the middle of a brutal heat wave. Today’s high is supposed to hit 97°F with a heat index of 111°F. I love a good fireworks show as much as the next person, but sitting in a park in 111-degree “feels like” doesn’t sound like a good time; it sounds like a medical event. So we’ve got the air conditioning, the ceiling fan, and a movie marathon (see below).
• Coming on the blog: a tortellini broccoli salad (the kind that actually survives a cookout table), and the saga of how I fixed my not-broken espresso machine. Hint: it wasn’t the machine. It was me.
• Garden Update: I’ve given up on the summer garden this year, but heat wave or not, this is the weekend I’m starting my brussels sprouts seeds for fall. I am determined to serve my own brussels sprouts at Christmas this year, even if it takes an entire case of deer netting to make it happen.
• What I’m Reading: I just started Regime Change: Inside the Imperial Presidency of Donald Trump by Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan. More on that later, once I’ve had time to sit with it. [Bookshop.org* | Amazon.com]
• What I’m Watching: the aforementioned marathon, which will likely include Hamilton, National Treasure, and Live Free or Die Hard. Because Bruce Willis is a national treasure in his own right, and no holiday is complete without a Die Hard movie. (Christmas, I’m looking at you.)
• What I’m Eating: there’s a pork shoulder in the fridge right now, rubbed down in spices and waiting for its moment. Tomorrow it goes on the kamado: Momofuku’s Bo Ssam, my way. If you’ve never done Bo Ssam, clear your Saturday. It’s worth it.

What are y’all reading/watching/cooking/dealing with this week? Let me know in the comments.

P.S. If you’re headed to a park in this heat, please hydrate and find shade. The fireworks are not worth heatstroke. I’ll be watching the neighborhood show from the driveway with a cold drink and a dog who deeply resents the noise. (Remy votes couch. Remy always votes couch.)

P.P.S. Placing my formal bet now that the brussels sprouts will not survive to Christmas. Placing an equally formal bet that I will try anyway. Deer netting futures are up.

P.P.P.S. Yes, Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Yes, I am watching it in July. I contain multitudes.

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