Fourth of July in Santa Barbara is my hands-down favorite. Beach, barbeque, and bombs bursting in air. Nothing can beat it. We spent the entire holiday with friends. There were ponies and hay rides, ice skating, water slides, and a live band. We pigged out on hamburgers, cupcakes and watermelon. At dusk we bundled up in jackets and hats, grabbed the sleeping bags and headed to Girsh Park for the best view of the fireworks. We've been doing this for a number of years, and it truly is my happy place. I love the patchwork closeness of our circle of friends and their blankets spread out on the grass, all of our hands digging into the same bag of popcorn. Our kids, who have known each other since birth, dance their hineys off and then giggle together under the blankets, foreheads touching and eyes sparkling. Washington, DC is the ultimate place to be on Fourth of July. But will it give me this? The fireworks were exceptionally smoky this year, causing bittersweet tear