Power Girl!

The Fourth of July dawned grumpy. The meteorologists, in collusion with the National Secret Board of Pacific Northwest Bridge-Jumping Prevention, had lied to us again. It was not, in fact, partly sunny. Nor was it anywhere near a pleasant 74 degrees. Nor, in fact, was it anything approaching that mythical, mysterious thing of legend called "summer." It was 68 degrees, cloudy -- a migraine-inducing day. A "but I can't eat waffles with a greeeeeeeeen forrrrrrk!" day.

We had to turn it around. But how? The firepit came later -- first, there was the determined drive to the fabric store, a yard of pink silk, a pink gingham ribbon. Gold and pink glitter paint.

 It took three cuts, some ironed seams, four straight stitches, and a four-year-old to art direct the placement of stars and hearts. A cape was born!

And Power Girl went running down the sidewalk to save lonely bunnies from the deep, dark woods -- one hand thrust forward, shouting, "BE STILL!" to invisible, would-be monsters.