This really should be an Olympic event. We would totally win.

The gold medal. Silver medal. Bronze medal. Preliminaries.
We would totally march in the opening ceremonies.

Hey kids, it's almost that time again.

The annual reunion of the used-to-be-kids now known as the Jenny Creek Cafe.

Like the actual creek, it was not named after me.

But I forgive you for assuming it was.

Too cool for school.  Even now.

Last year's team performed quite ably.

It was merely a coincidence that we had already killed several bottles of wine.

Four team members are in this picture.  If you don't already know, can you guess which one is me?  

If that was too easy, can you find Dr L?

Do you see the old guy in glasses shown performing in last year's revue?
Do you remember who that guy in the corner with the turtleneck dicky is?  I don't either.

Anyway, this is the weekend.  Most people will get there before I do; this is also the Oregon Shakespeare Festival gathering of all my siblings and my mom in Ashland to see some plays and celebrate Mom's ninetieth birthday.

I'm excited about seeing this play.  Maybe next year I can catch some actual Shakespeare, although my favorites so far have been by other playwrights.  

My overachieving family is better at this, but what else is new?

After dinner and cake on Friday I'll jump in the car and roar back down the road a ways to our chosen venue, a large, beautiful house named Heaven & Earth.  I didn't do any of the planning this time (okay, I never do any of the planning; I just show up) but it promises to be wonderful.   We're hosting several non-JCC-members-but-beloved-friends as well as a couple of  spouses who haven't joined us before--I hope they have a good time!  

Here in town, the siblings are beginning to accumulate.

Peach cobbler is being prepared.  And vanilla ice cream has been purchased.

 Let the games begin.

Check back next week for the post-game.

Gratuitous grandson shot.

Can't fit through the kitchen door

Fatty fatty two by four, at an impressive nine pounds, arrived last week.

Hey old lady, 

I believe there are laws to protect me from you posting pictures of me naked without my consent.

Brody Michael was scheduled to arrive Thursday but was unwilling to wait that long.  This was Annie's third c-section, and based on that giant cranium, it's probably just as well.  He was born last Tuesday as I was driving the three hours to get here.  The family recently bought a house and just got the keys--they've been able to take over most of the boxes Annie packed and all the yard/garage stuff, but the  nitty gritty items like silverware and underpants should go tomorrow (maybe, or maybe not.  Things are a little uncertain around here.)  I've been trying to stay on top of the wave and be helpful, and although logically I am, I'm a little discouraged about the whole project.  I think everyone just wants to BE MOVED ALREADY.  You know the feeling.  So I cook, clean, and chase  Curious George  Noah as he escapes out the gate, out the front and back doors, turns on the hoses and sprinklers,  snatches everything off the counters, climbs in the oven, refrigerator and dishwasher, dashes into Mama's room and gets into her makeup, sneaks into the garage and throws all my clothes out of my suitcase,  climbs onto the dryer, jumps into any unlocked car and honks the horn and turns every knob and locks the doors, and on and on all the livelong day.  Add one slightly bored and jealous older brother and it multiplies by five.  

Yo Grambob, you'd better come in here real quick.

I'm currently laundering the Snuggy (Noah's special blanket) for the third time since I've been here, so things are a bit tense.  He dumps his sippy cup on it for his own reasons (bored, angry, or just to hear me yelp.)  I love these little lambs more than I can explain, but this is harder than it was when their Mama was small.  I'm sure it's no picnic for them right now, either.

So you people just wake me when we get there.  Or actually--I'll wake YOU.

Brody Michael
July 10, 2012