While it's true that it's the Fourth of July, people at this party are more interested in another true fact: One of the hostesses will soon be heading to Baltimore for graduate school. Her degree will be for medical illustration, which has got to be the coolest degree ever. When I inform her that I didn't know that med students were still learning from illustrations and not photographs she sighs mightily: "Everybody says that," and I immediately feel like an ass.

Since it's a gorgeous day, our hosts have thrown their living room up onto the front lawn: There's a sofa next to a shrub, and a lamp on an end table, and a shag rug tossed out onto the grass. It's downright homey in the sun, especially when trays of delicious spring rolls start circulating. "I miss living with Vietnamese women," someone wistfully says as he takes a bite. The food is wildly eclectic but roundly great: guacamole, yummy chocolate cupcakes, grilled pineapple and asparagus, and, of course, hot dogs.

There are a lot of pictures being taken: "Say something American," a photographer urges his subject. "Um... I love Jesus," says the photographee as the camera flashes. Because it's Independence Day, we need something dangerous. Some people shoot off fireworks, and another couple stand in the middle of the street and do some dazzling fire dancing. After all the fire and explosions, partyers enjoy the wading pool, especially after they gang up on one poor guy, strip him to his underwear, and toss him in for a cooling dunk, which seems the most American thing to do.

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