This is my aunt Jacquie (right), posing with my Mom on the day of her 60th birthday. She is an amazing woman, has raised three spectacular kids, and (being an English PhD) regularly polices the grammar on this very blog (all while being its staunch supporter and enthusiastic reader as well). The celebrations were so much fun, and a lot of friends and family came down to party Friday night and all day Saturday.
I have lots of pictures to share from these two days, but I thought I’d start with some very important ones.
What is my cousin June holding . . . ?
It appears to be an ornately decorated box.
Yes. In fact, it’s a contribution box for a very important cause.
This brilliant brainchild of my cousins was passed around to the party goers as the day progressed. Are you confused? Muddling about in a cloud of incomprehension?
Let’s review the evidence, and everything will become clear:
Here’s the living room. Yes, very tasteful, very classic in appearance. But not exactly . . . lounge worthy. I mean, can you picture a pile of cousins and grandkids in PJ’s just hangin’ loose on these marvelous pieces of antique furniture?
I didn’t think so.
Eleanor agrees–completely unacceptable. We want comfort.
I’ll give you further evidence. Using my spy-skills, I witnessed the following conversation between aunt Jacquie and a distraught female guest. I should note that I have no idea who this woman is (dear Mystery Woman: I hope you don’t mind being blogged about)–this is just cold, hard reporting, folks.
Aunt Jacquie: You know, now that I think about it, I can’t even count the number of medical complications that furniture has caused over the years . . . lemme see . . . one (a sprained back), two (a herniated disc), three (a stomachache–though that may have been from all the meringue) . . .
Aunt Jacquie: I mean, I know that whenever I sit in my furniture I always get this cramp . . . it starts along my neck right here and moves into my shoulder and upper back . . . it’s really quite painful.
Case closed! We can’t have Aunt Jacquie in pain and getting cramps in her neck for the rest of her life. That just wouldn’t do.
And just when I thought this little manifesto was about wrapped up, I called out to my husband . . .
“Hmmm . . . should I include this picture of you on the couch? I don’t know, it’s kind of dark and . . . you know, you don’t really look that uncomfortable.”
“Well that’s because I didn’t think it was really that uncomfortable. I mean, the living room looks really nice,” he said.
I stared at him blankly. He continued:
“She has a beautiful living room.”
“But . . . but . . . ” I spluttered. “You’re not on our side?”
“I don’t know, her furniture looks really pretty.”
“Pretty? Pretty!?!? But that means . . . you’re with the opposition!” I cried. “Dang it,” I muttered, “I guess I’ll have to include your views in my blog post.”
Everyone else, I hope you align yourselves with the correct side in this matter. Over and out.