Eleventy-first.

(As a reward for finishing up the laundry, I give you another post.  If I mop the downstairs in the next half hour, I'll type out another. And, hey, if anyone wants to come finish all my work, I'll give you three!)

On the other branch of the family tree, this summer the descendents of Benjamin and Zelumah gathered for the 111th consecutive reunion.  Take that, Bilbo!

John had to work, but the girls and I hitched a ride with my parents, which reminded me of childhood summer reunions when all seven of us kids plus two parents squeezed into the rusty-station-wagon-of-the-moment, sweltering in summer's heat as Dad meandered through the wild and woodsy haunts of his childhood while providing a steady stream of anecdotes that, I'm ashamed to say, we didn't always appreciate for the gems they were.  End that convoluted sentence and take me home, country roads...


And speaking of that Pennsylvania Popsy, here he is with Simmy.

 

Give him donuts and punch, and he's as happy as a fox in a henhouse.

A fox wouldn't sport such a dapper moustache, though.

 

 Annika and Hannah enjoyed catching up.

 

I enjoyed watching Haven watching August charm the crowds.

 

 

My brother Pete and a big, wonderful mess of children.

 

Sister Debbie and Pip inspect the cupholders, which coordinate admirably with their clothing.  

 

Pretty, pretty.

 

To end this batch of snapshots, Pip foils the paparazzi.