Another Party for Our Nut Berry

Piper Joy lucked out this year with a party on Long Island and then a party the week after we came home.  We love her enough to celebrate more than twice, though, so two parties it was!

Her day began with Birthday Pancakes Eaten Properly.

And a Big Ol' Candle...

And some singing.

Annika made the birthday pancakes while I was out weeding the garden.  The girls cleaned (most of) the house (sorry about your upstairs bathroom visit, Mags),  and Millie made food for our soon-coming guests.

This is exciting.   Mags!!!!  All the way from New Zealand!!!  And a charming Kiwi boy named Brendan!!!!  It was great to see Mags and meet Brendan and to catch up on the last couple of years. And for those of you who know Mags from Houghton, her personality is just as infectious as ever...

It was during this visit that I learned Kiwis eat their burgers topped with fried eggs and pickled beet(root).  I learned this because the haphazard lunch we served consisted of Italian Cheese Bread and raspberry ribbons that Millie made while I was in the garden, supplemented by applesauce, a weird (and kind of gross) salad I slapped together after we all sat down, and pickled beets.  A strange medley to be sure, as I frantically looked for speedy ways to fill in belly cracks.  Next time, Mags, I will prepare better.  And I will stay out of the garden.  And I will clean the filthy upstairs.

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After Mags and Brendan left, Uncle Joel showed up, and an unknown child took these pictures.

We always welcome Joel with a formal dance of Joyful, Jumping Greeting.  His presence in Nanticoke demands it.

He was puzzled by the unknown child photographer,

yet remained unmoved from his throne.

Later that evening, Pip lucked out again.  Andy, Wendy, and the cousins had flown into town from Alaska a few days before, so she invited them all (and Joel, and Debbie, and Uncle Pete who was there for the weekend) up for cake and presents.

After a jam-packed day, I was utterly relieved by her birthday cake request.  She wanted a plain, brown cake on which she could arrange her cowboy & Indian toys.  And her skunk.

Done, my dear.  (And thank you.)

For some reason, Mr. Beaver was burrowing into the side of the cake.

Happy Birthday, Sugarplum!  We love you BIG.