I trust you all had wonderful, frisbee throwin’, back deck grillin’, smoked meat chompin’ fun packed yesterday as we celebrated our Independence. Please tell me you partied enough for the both of us, because this year we found our July 4th smack dab between a 64-hour power outage and vacation. To say we didn’t celebrate, would be accurate. Perhaps you heard, if you keep up with weathery news things, that a derecho flew right threw Washington D.C. Friday night at 10:30. PRIME baby-asleep-we-can-party-hardy-all-night-long-for-two-hours-before-hitting-the-sack time. It had us scrambling throughout our half disheveled house (construction finally underway for a pantry, and folks, I’ve been swooning at the single shelf that has been nailed in almost a month ago as things keep delaying further progress, but boy is it a perfect shelf) to find any spare half burnt (read: has the remotest chance of still catching on fire) candles strewn about the house.

It was one of the most random moments of my life. A slightly humid summer evening, with heat lightening in the distance. Muggy, with flicks of yellow amber glowing from lightning bug tushies and the rhythmic chirp from crickets. A slight rustle in the trees as an occasional sticky wind passed through their glossy leaves. No sooner did we schlep ourselves inside, put the baby to bed and sit down to determine how we would spend our last few precious Friday night hours than the storm came raging in full force. I’m pretty sure at one point I saw Toto fly by my bedroom window as I tried to predict which method — the rattling window and wall shaking wind, the lightning strikes eerily too close for comfort or the drenching monsoon tidal wave downpour that joined the assault — would destroy our little home. Then it stopped. Just as quickly as it started. And we were then left in a sans air conditioned, spoiling refrigerator, muggy, sweat house. Also, our house’s windows have no screens, and 92% can’t open either. Not that there was even a remote wind to carry us through the epic heat wave that landed on us exactly as the power grid was wiped blank. We were stuck. In humidness. With a baby. Who doesn’t understand what we mean when we say, “Sorry, honey. I know you’re hot, but we’ve got to keep at least the diaper on.” To boys, birthday suits are the bee’s knees.

We were forced to peel ourselves off the slightly cooler tiled floor to find relief within pool water. We spent all weekend at the in-laws (who also lacked power) and their shady backyard pool. I tried not to verge on an absurd number of baby-in-pool pictures (read: no, I didn’t) as we vroomed Henry and his whale from one end to the other, taught him to splash, and told him it was a big blue bath tub, minus the scrub down of pudgy appendages. He loved it despite the hype.

Monday afternoon our power returned and took another 24 hours to cool down our excessive 92-degree house. Then came the sanitation of every cubic inch inside the refrigerator, the dumping of three trash bags full of its nasty, grody, pit churning contents and the determination of what to feed my family in the few remaining days before we pack ourselves up and get out of town. Remembering July 4th picnics and the sides/desserts that should be brought as our contribution were the last thing on my mind, and thus we spent this Independence Day just thankful for power and singing the praises of whoever invented air conditioning. It really is the bestest thing ever.

Knowing I could easily survive off of ice cream for the last three days we’re home and there would be no complaints (read: no judgment with equal parts participation) from the husband, I threw together some easy key lime pie popsicles. It’s quite unpatriotic, no red, white, blue or hidden flag designs, but I’d like to think it’s a family tradition — unbeknownst to me, my sister-in-law made a key lime cake, the pictures of which made me wish I lived in Pennsylvania so I could be invited to all the social events that she bakes for. Surely this means it should be a Schwartz ritual, right? It’s like the only acceptable excuse there is. Despite the sacrilege to the usual American flagged rocket popsicles, these key lime pops are a thing of beauty to one’s tongue. It’s as if pie was shoved onto a stick and served icy cold. The crumby graham jacket it’s wrapped in feels reminiscent of a Good Humor Chocolate Eclair bar, though has so much lime packed into it there would be no mistaking the difference. One bowl, six ingredients, stirred, poured, frozen and eaten. Simple. Summer. Decadence.

We also managed to find some local fireworks (put on by Trump!) making our July 4th (Henry’s first, by the way) not a complete wash. Unfortunately he fell asleep two minutes into the shebang, and didn’t wake up until we finagled him into his car seat for the ride home. Enjoy!

Key Lime Pie Ice Pops
Adapted from Paletas

Notes: If you can’t find key limes regular limes can be used instead, but please, please, please, use freshly squeezed lime juice, not the horrid stuff from the bottle.

Makes 10 3-ounce popsicle

1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
1 cup half-and-half
3/4 cup fresh key lime juice (from about 2 pounds of key limes)
2 teaspoons finely grated key lime zest
1/8 teaspoon Kosher salt
3 cups coarsely crushed honey graham crackers

In a large bowl, whisk together the sweetened condensed milk, half-and-half, lime juice, lime zest and salt until well combined.

If you’re using a conventional ice-pop mold (we use this one): Divide the mixture among the compartments, place the lid on top, insert popsicle sticks and freeze until solid, about 5 hours. If your mold has a built-in stick/bottom lid that you would rather use go ahead, though I think wooden popsicle sticks are sturdier and I love the “throw away when done” concept. Dishes, if you haven’t guessed, is like my most loathed chore. Also, if you are worried your wooden sticks are going to sink you can place them in the popsicles once they begin to set after 1 – 1 1/2 hours in the freezer. They will be firm enough at this point to not let the stick sink, yet not so firm you can’t get one slipped in.

If you’re using drinking glasses or other unconventional molds: Divide the mixture evenly among the molds, freeze until the pops are beginning to set (1 1/2 to 2 hours), then insert sticks in them and freeze until solid, about 4 to 5 hours.

Spread the crushed graham cracker pieces on a large plate or baking sheet. Place popsicle molds in warm water for 20 – 30 seconds and then unmold them. Working quickly so as to prevent them from melting, press each side into the crushed graham crackers to coat completely. For the graham cracker coat to adhere your popsicles will need to be soft, but if they get too soft and start to melt, place on a plate and back in the freezer until hard. Remove from freezer and let it sit until slightly soft and then continue packing the crumbs into the sides of the popsicles. Serve immediately.