Tag Archives: laura l

May7

The Lairdmobile

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The Lairdmobile

At 4:06 this morning I received a text from Pops informing me that the Lairdmobile was on the move. Fortunately my phone was on silent because between Pops, The Kid, and Brother, I had like 4 texts by the time I woke up at 6:00.

They are coming South for Joey’s graduation, and then on Sunday we’ll head up to Oklahoma to spend a week at a resort on Grand Lake. Ahhhhhhh. (Well, for me it’s just five days because we have to come back to Dallas on Thursday. But who’s counting.)

Anyway, somehow the Lairdmobile managed to drive off without any maps. This has only been a problem one time…but I’m really not sure how they’re going to make it through Dallas to our apartment without any maps. Maybe Brother’s photographic memory will save the day.

Oh wait, Brother doesn’t even have a photographic memory.

They’re sunk, y’all.

I recommended that they stop at the cattle pens in Kansas (which I am obsessed with, there are NEVER ANY CATTLE IN THEM AND IT DRIVES ME CRAZY) so they could stretch their legs.  I really didn’t think they would, since they did sort of get lost earlier and were therefore behind schedule…but just a few minutes ago I received a very surprising picture from my Pops.

Internet, my family is my hero.  CATTLE PENS!  I hope Pops took like a jillion pictures.

(And I have to admit, the first time I looked at this picture I thought EW SICK, why is That Kid not wearing a shirt?  Kid.  Seriously.  Get a shirt that’s a more differenter color than your skin.  Grosses me out.)

Oct22

Window into the mind of a genius. Or at least The Brother.

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Window into the mind of a genius. Or at least The Brother.

The Brother and Laura are coming down here tomorrow to visit us.  They are bringing their small, sensitive dog Ernie, too.  Ernie loves to pick on Henry, and Henry plays along very nicely until all of a sudden HE HAS HAD ENOUGH THANK YOU VERY MUCH and then he jumps on the furniture or demands to be held at all times in order to get away from Ernie.

Should be a great weekend.

(Brother tells me that I make the Ern sound real annoying.  And, well, he’s not THAT bad…he’s very cute and snuggly.  I’m sure I’ll post about 5,000 pictures of him and Henry fighting.)

We have all kinds of stuff planned.  Mostly free stuff, too, because we’re smart like that.  But before we can do any of this cool stuff, they have to get here.

Brother just asked me the best route for getting through KC and, after much debate and looking at the road construction reports, he decided he’s going to go all the way around the outside.

Brother is the kind of guy who, last time we were all in the B-W had our route planned out to the second. And he would use his humongous calculator (which probably weighed as much as the hiking boots I had opted to leave out at the last second) to ascertain if we were ahead or behind of schedule, and if we could afford to rest at the next portage.

I’m not kidding.  He had CHARTS and stuff.

So Brother is, today, trying to come up with his traffic estimate plans and schedule.  I happened to mention to him that Google Maps has as traffic option.  With this new found gem of information, Brother went basically bonkers.

And I quote:

Andrew: oh sweeeeet
you can customize the time of day
and it’ll show you the average traffic for that time of day
Jenna: i know
it’s so handy
Andrew: this is crazy awesome

And so Brother now knows where he will get hung up on slowdowns all the way from Iowa to Texas.

I’ll bet YOUR brother doesn’t know that.  Pwn.

In any case, Brother and Laura and Ern estimate their arrival into the Metroplex around 5:30.  And that’s including time for rush hour slowdown, of course.

That gives me just enough time to give my house a quick cleaning tonight and go shopping to buy the traditional foods from the store.  Traditional foods, you say?  Well, Pepsi, Root Beer, Lucky Charms and cinnamon rolls, of course…among other things.

(Basically all the stuff Mom never let us eat much of when we kids but that we got by the pound at Grandma’s house.  Except Mom started letting us have cinnamon rolls by the time I got to high school.)

Oct20

Weekend Bloodwork

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Weekend Bloodwork

So after our appointment with the specialist on Tuesday, she said she’d need to see me in the next week, week and a half depending on the way the calendar played out.  Well, once we got home and checked Domo (yes, I have a giant Domo calendar hanging in my dining room…and I like it that way) we discovered I was going to need to get bloodwork done over the weekend.

Um, LAME because The Brother and Laura are coming down to play with us.  The last thing we all want to do is go sit in the waiting room at Concentra again and watch the freaky Wizard of Oz while they suck my blood.

So I called the specialist’s office just now, wanting to find out how to work this out.

Can I just say that infertility specialists rock my face off?  They seem to know, and expect, that their patients will be psycho crazy women by this point.  The clerk I spoke to was patient with me and explained things VERY WELL.

I told her I was probably going to need my Day 2 bloodwork on Saturday or Sunday, and asked if I needed a requisition for Concentra.  (I know all this lingo due to the fire drill that was the weekend of May 17.  If it wasn’t so crappy, I’d feel kind of cool for knowing to ask for a requisition.  However, circumstances being as they are, I do not feel cool.)

“Oh, honey, you don’t need to worry about that,” said the clerk.  “We really prefer we do the bloodwork here in our office and not have to bother with Concentra.”

Um, ME TOO.  (The only cool part about Concentra is the fully floor to ceiling carpeted elevator you have to take to get up to it.)

“Just call us on Friday and we’ll squeeze you in if necessary, or call us first thing Monday.  We can fudge on the days a little bit and get you in as late as Day 4.  So just call us and we’ll make it work,” she said.

Ahhhhh.

I mean, I’m not all excited to go get bloodwork done.  But it’s so nice to know that this is an office that listens, offers solutions, and explains said solutions.

Pretty sure the next couple months will be a roller coaster of going here, running there, doing shots (HA!), and trying to relax and not stress about it.

But when I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I was blissful and naive and stress-free about pregnancy.

I dreamed last night I actually got pregnant.  And, in my dream, I absolutely flipped out when I saw the positive pregnancy test.  I was screaming and crying and panicking and hyperventilating.  (Which I think turns the dream into a nightmare?)

The night before I dreamed that I was about to have my 5-week ultrasound following successful IVF.  The same flipping-out thing happened.

I think subconsciously I hate ultrasounds and am terrified of pregnancy because all of my experiences with both thus far have meant physical pain, invasive surgery and heartbreak.

It’s hard to push myself forward when I’m afraid of what we might find.  You know, the whole kicking YOURSELF when you’re down thing?

Anyway, I got off track.  But the point is: I don’t have to have bloodwork this weekend.

Yay.

Oct12

Good Gifts

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Good Gifts

I love giving people gifts, especially if it’s something I just randomly saw in the store and KNEW would be perfect for them.  Specially selected gifts like that tell the recipient that you really know them and that you think they’re special.

On Friday evening, I came home to find TWO packages in the mailbox waiting for me.  I was really surprised because I wasn’t expecting anything, even though The Kid had told me he’d finally put my birthday present in the mail.  (I have a short memory and I had forgotten.)

I sat down on the floor right inside the door and immediately tore the first package open.  It was from my mom, and I couldn’t think why she’d be sending me anything, so I was curious.  Inside the envelope was a long, slender gold box.  I tore the top off and immediately began to laugh.  It was a wooden bookmark with an armadillo delicately inlaid.  She, Sister and Laura had seen it when they were in Yellow Springs while visiting The Kid, and they bought it for me.

IMG_1785That is a pretty sweet bookmark if you ask me.  I haven’t seen a real armadillo yet, but I have the bookmark and so basically one lives in my house with me.

After laughing about my armadillo for awhile, I tore into my second package.  The Kid had told me a month or two ago that he’d gotten me the sweetest birthday present, and that he’d spotted it in the Clearance aisle at Wal-Mart.  Honestly, how many great things come from the Clearance aisle?  I was hesitant, Internet.  I was hesitant.

Although, I should have realized that The Kid would not fail me.  When I pulled the Mr. Men and Little Miss Laundry Hamper out of the package, I yelled, “WOAH!  This is AMAZING!”

I love Mr. Men and Little Miss books.  I absolutely LOVE them.  Someday, if we have kids, I need the whole set to read to them, because I recall spending hours in the church library reading them while Mom and Dad were at choir practice.  They are amazing.

The Kid’s card directed me to: a.) stay out of jail, and b.) always use the laundry hamper, OR ELSE.

So I immediately rearranged our laundry baskets in order to make full and prime use of my new and, quite frankly, most amazing one.

IMG_1784I see Mr. Happy, Mr. Messy, Mr. Bump, Mr. Noisy, Little Miss Chatterbox…

Every time I go into my closet now, I smile.  I simply have to, because I HAVE THE BEST LAUNDRY HAMPER EVER.  And every time I pick up my book, I see my armadillo bookmark and realize how much cooler that is than a real armadillo.  (Mostly because it’s the only kind I have seen. But even still, I can’t figure out how the dude made it, it looks real complicated.)

Good gifts like these, gifts with thought behind them, seriously make my day.

Thanks Mom, Sister, Laura and The Kid!

Sep19

The Pound Cake On Fire

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The Pound Cake On Fire

Once, after The Brother and Laura’s wedding, it was like 11:00 p.m. and The Kid and I were supposed to be helping clean up, but we were too tired and cranky to behave ourselves anymore.  So we sneaked down to the kitchen, grabbed one of the candle lighters and a piece of cake, and started setting the frosting on fire.

Because we could.

It was pretty cool, the frosting melted and singed and turned black and smoky.  Once it became obvious we were setting a piece of The Brother and Laura’s wedding cake on fire, though, The Kid and I threw away the evidence and gave it up; we went home.  (Nothin’ worse than getting in trouble with church ladies at 11:00 p.m. after your own brother’s wedding when you’ve already been at church for about 12 hours.)

Long story short: without pudding, fruit and cream to disguise it, ain’t no way Joey and I were eating that pound cake.  So we decided to set it on fire.  Duh.

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First, I tried it.  I felt like I owed it to the pound cake.

It tasted like…a sponge.  It was too light to be considered an actual pound cake, in my opinion.  (I now want to make a pound cake so poor Joey can see what they are supposed to taste like, and I may do this.)

Henry, on the other hand, got ahold of one of the pieces and somehow ate half of it one swallow.  I can’t believe he didn’t choke on it, but he certainly didn’t and immediately began trying to gnaw on the edge of the brick of pound cake laying on the balcony.

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He couldn’t stop licking his chops and we had to tell him to SIT and STAY when we broke out the matches.

The first match didn’t do anything, so I stabbed it into the top of the cake like a flagpole.  The second match: same thing.

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Third match?  Nothin’.

Amount of organic matter in this cake?  Probably zero.  Maybe even negative.

I ripped a nice big hole in the top of the cake and tried to light the middle of it on fire.

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I barely singed it black before the cake put my match out.

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So…basically…the cake did not set on fire.  It was so disappointing.

But it was way better than eating it.

Aug20

Once again – everyone’s having fun at the Iowa State Fair except for me

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Once again – everyone’s having fun at the Iowa State Fair except for me

Mom called tonight.  She and Pops and The Brother and Laura are going to the State Fair on Saturday.  THEY ARE SUCH LUCKY CATS.  Anyways, Mom told me that bull that won the Super Bull contest this year set a record.  And a setting a record on a ginormous bull at the Iowa State Fair is, like, really saying something.

So I had to look it up on the interwebs.  If I can’t see the guy in person and poke him with my finger (which I would totally do because I am not afraid) at least I can look at his picture and go “WOAAAAAH, Joey, get over here right now and see this!”

I said that five minutes ago and he still hasn’t gotten over here to see it.  It’s clear where his priorities lie.

The Cedar Rapids Gazette informed me that this year’s Super Bull is named Big Black, he’s from Prescott, and he weighs 3,404 lbs.  THAT IS A LOT OF BULL, PEOPLE.

statefairbullAlso please note huge how huge and docile he appears.  (I would hang out with him any day of the week except Saturday, because I have to clean my house on Saturday.)  He’s so enormous he makes the dude standing next to him look really small.  Yet another reason I need to go see this guy, maybe if I get my picture taken next to him I’ll look suuuuuuuuuper skinny.

Probably not.

Well, anyways, to all of you who were lucky enough to to to the Iowa State Fair: you are so lucky and I wish I was you.  Maybe next year.  (How many years am I going to have to say that before it actually happens?!)

Aug16

The Best Video Ever

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The Best Video Ever

I was attempting to make chocolate mint leaves (and failing miserably, I might add) when I heard guffawing sounds coming from the dining room table.

It was Joey.

“You HAVE to get in here and watch this,” he said, in between gasps for air.

“I can’t!” I wailed.  I was, quite literally, up to my elbows in melted, tempered El Ray bittersweet chocolate and couldn’t quit my project.  ”What are you watching?”

“It’s something Brother posted,” Joey said, snickering. “You are going to love it.”

I heard what I thought to be air blowing past a video camera microphone and thought maybe Brother had posted a video of him and Laura parasailing in Florida.  But then I remembered that Brother hadn’t wanted to take their laptop on their Florida trip because he thought it might get stolen, and realized that he was definitely NOT the kind of guy who would take his video camera 200 feet in the air over the ocean.  So I figured whatever the video was, it was probably safe for me to watch.

Ten minutes, and chocolate mint leaf frustration, later I was de-chocolated and ready for the watching of Brother’s video.

Brother went out to Pops’ house to fly The Plane while Pops was in Illinois visiting Sister.  Pops mowed a landing strip in the lower pasture, and about once a weekend they round up as many people as are available and go fly The Plane.  (Well, whenever The Plane has working landing gear and both wings intact, that is.)  So anyways, Brother decided that it would be a super great idea to set up his camera at the end of the runway to film a take off.

It would have worked fine…if it hadn’t been for the cows…

(The video’s about 5 minutes long, but most of the hilarity begins at 0:36 and continues for about 2-3 minutes.  I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time.  Brother’s commentary is the second best part of the whole thing.  The first best part is the cows.  Duh.)

This is why I love Iowa.  I mean SERIOUSLY.  Is that not the best thing you have seen all day long?

Jul10

My Opal

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My Opal

About 15 years ago when the Grandparents Laird went to Australia, they brought all us girls back opals. Sister and I both got necklaces and Mom got a ring. When Mom came down to take care of me after surgery, she mentioned that she had recently re-discovered her ring and has been wearing it. I remembered how I had looked and looked and looked for my opal necklace the last few times we were in Iowa, and never found it.

On Saturday last week, right before we girls were going to go out and pick black raspberries, Sister was all up in arms about the fact that it was wet and cold outside, and that she’d likely get her clothes all wrecked.  So I suggested she go look in the dresser in the blue room upstairs where Joey and I were staying.  (I keep a homely pair of cow flannel pajamas in there to keep me warm on cold Iowa nights when we are at home.)

“There’s nothing in there,” Sister said.

“I bet there is,” I told her.

We went upstairs and began opening drawers.  She was right, the first two were empty.  Upon opening the third drawer, though, I gasped.

“Oh.My.Gosh.  Where did this stuff come from?”

Inside the drawer was my old George Washington doll, a backpack full of Boundary Waters clothes, my poster of the Istanbul skyline, my plaid wool purse, and…MY OPAL NECKLACE.

“I have been looking for this since before I went to college!” I gasped.

“OH!  Mine is broken,” Sister wailed.  “Plus I always liked yours better.”

“That’s funny, I always liked YOURS better!”

I happily and carefully put my opal and its box in the suitcase that was coming back to Texas with us, and Sister and I began to dig through the backpack with Boundary Waters clothes to find something suitable for Sister to wear.

We wound up finding many things, so soon Sister was suited up in my junkiest of lounge clothes, and Laura was wearing my green Eddie Bauer thermal.

After picking berries, we all wound up in the blue room again, going through boxes of our old-timey things and memories, reading old journal entries from elementary school and laughing, looking at favorite old stuffed animals. Mine were all named logical things like Pinky (a pink bear), Sad Sam (that was his brand name), Mouse (a mouse) and Teddy (a musical teddy bear).

We also all found read my depressing poems I wrote in high school.  They’re not bad, just all very depressing.  “If I had known about these I would have worried about you,” Mom said.

“But Mom, I wrote them for Creative Writing class.  And plus, every teenager is required to write depressing poems.  It’s how it goes.”

“I suppose,” said Mom. But I could tell she was unconvinced.

“On the whole I was a very well-adjusted teenager, Mom.  Really these poems are the only gloomy parts.  Every teenager has to have some gloom, plus cheery poems are really cheesy and lame.”

Mom still looked uncertain, Sister agreed with me, and we all decided to move on to Sister’s boxes.

Sister was on the hunt for her opal.  “I know it’s in here somewhere,” she said.  She dug and dug through her boxes, getting distracted many times by the collection of garnets and small things she had saved.

Then – success.

“I FOUND IT!” She yelled.  “Do you think I could get it re-set?  The setting broke on the gym floor at church a long time ago but the opal is still fine.”

We were unsure if she could get it reset or not.

What I couldn’t figure out, though, is how all of my Boundary Waters stuff, the poster, the purse and my opal got in the drawer in the blue room in the first place.  We had used that whole dresser at Thanksgiving, and none of it was there then.  I asked Mom, who knows almost everything about the contents of drawers in her house.

“Oh,” she said, “The Kid found all that in the bottom drawer of his dresser and wanted to clean it out.  I told him he could put it up here.”

The Kid’s dresser used to be my dresser, so it makes sense.

In any case, we had fun reliving memories, reading depressing poems, convincing Mom that I wasn’t an angst-filled teenager, and FINDING OUR OPALS.

I’m wearing mine today, for the first time in over ten years.

Thanks Grandparents Laird!

Jul7

Wild Black Raspberries

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Wild Black Raspberries

I was craving wild black raspberries.  Not to be confused with red raspberries, black raspberries are more mild, more staining, and more difficult to find because they only grow wild.  They’re almost growing-up-in-Iowa rite of passage.

Two weeks ago, I called The Kid and made him go out to the wild black raspberry bushes near my parents’ house to ascertain if the berries were ripe yet.  He said they were.

I had visions of thick, juicy clusters of black raspberries dancing in my head.

blackraspberry3

The red berries are not yet ripe and taste dreadfully sour. It's the black ones that are the jewels.

I picked a whole bunch of black raspberries at the bottom of the hill at Joey’s parents’ house, and I only shared less than half of what I picked.  (I was super greedy.)

I felt about 50% sated of my black raspberry craving, and Sister and I had plans to go forage in the woods across the street from the speed limit sign in Yonder (that’s the part of my parents’ yard that’s way, way, way over yonder; hence the name).  The Fourth of July dawned wet, rainy, and altogether gloomy outside.  We were unsure if we would get to go into the woods after all since everything was so slippery.

The rain finally stopped about 1:30 and, in between near-fatal experimental rocket launches, we three sisters suited up in the ugliest, warmest clothes we could find, linked arms, and walked down the seal coated road.  You can walk arm in arm on my parents street without getting hit by a car, even though it’s technically Main Street.  It’s awesome.

(We used to have “how long can we lay in the middle of the road” contests as children.)

We discovered the raspberries by mom and dad’s house weren’t as ripe yet as The Kid had led us to believe.  But, consistent with our lemons to lemonade outlook, we decided we’d pick as many of them as possible.  Down the soggy ditch we slid, and it was right about then that Sister started whining rather uncharacteristically.

“I’m going to get wet,” and “These pants are uncomfortable,” and “It’s cold,” and “I don’t want to get scratched.”

Poor Sister.

“Fine fine, I’ll go in the thicket,” I said. “There’s barely any good ones in there anyway, you stay along the edge.”

Laura went back to the house for her boots and camera, and said she’d get me some boots too.  It’s not easy to climb over wet logs and down hills in soggy flip-flops when you’re trying to contend with raspberry briars.

We picked one large, red plastic cup full of berries.  By the end of it, Sister was mainly just standing there holding the cup and we were dumping our berries into her cup so that it looked like she did all the work.

As I said, POOR SISTER.  She was not a fan of the rainy weather.

We all went back inside, displayed our berries to the moms, who were sitting in the family room talking, and then promptly went for towels and dry clothes.

I discovered many, many long scratches on my legs and arms from the berry picking.  It pleased me.  Until we moved to Texas I was always thoroughly scratched up all summer, due to black raspberry picking and suchlike.

Unfortunately all the black raspberries will be ready in about two weeks, and they will be PLENTIFUL.  I told Laura if she doesn’t go back and pick them all, it will be a sorry day indeed.  Perhaps The Brother and The Kid will help her.

(Although I rather doubt it.)

Jul6

Fireworks

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Fireworks

I love the Fourth of July.  I love fireworks, launching rockets, flying the plane (which I missed out on this year because it was too rainy), eating hamburgers and pie, sparklers, and waiting around for something exciting to happen.  The Fourth of July is a great holiday because you don’t have to get all riled up about presents and making sure your turkey is done so everyone stays salmonella free…it’s just one of those delicious holidays where you can just BE.

Be together.

This Fourth was perfect.

It was just what the doctor ordered.

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About 7:00, we all headed down to get ready to watch the fireworks.  The Cedar Rapids Municipal Band was playing at 8:00 and, while I like to be downtown no later than 5:00, we managed to get great seats to listen to them.

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Mom and I made sandwiches and everyone munched on chips, chocolate cake while they waited.

(Oh, oh.  This is not related but still awesome.  I don’t like sandwiches, so I picked out the lunch meat from mine and put the bread back on the plate.  The Brother wanted another sandwich, so he picked up my meatless bread and started eating it.  HALFWAY THROUGH he started freaking out, like “GAH!  What happened to this sandwich!”  It was worth the price of admission.  I was so proud.)

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The Kid smoked on some of Laura’s chocolate-dipped pretzels even though the festivities were a No Smoking Facility.

You know, I just realized that I never got to eat a single one of those things.  I need a weekend do-over.

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Anyway, the sun began to set, the band began to play, and we all pretty much talked while we listened.

“Look, there’s an old guy sitting down there reading a sheet of music.  Do you think he’s the backup conductor in case the real one dies or something,” Brother asked.

We all agreed that that must be the situation.

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“Joey, take a picture of Sister and I,” I asked.  He obliged.  Then, we heard snickering behind us…

It was BROTHER…RUINING our picture.

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This may be my favorite picture from the entire weekend.  It’s just so classic.  Sister looks righteously indignant, Brother looks sinister, and I am obviously appalled.

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Poor Stephen hurt himself very badly playing softball last week, so he spent much of the evening relaxing in a camp chair and trying not to be in too much pain.  This is actually one of the only pictures of him from the entire event, poor thing.

By the time the band stopped playing, we had discovered that our seats were going to stink for the fireworks.  So we picked up all our stuff and started walking until we found a spot that seemed just right.  We plunked our blankets, chairs and loud laughter down on a nice, dewey grassy spot and waited.

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We attempted to take a sibling picture, but somehow Brother blocked everyone’s view.  So we moved out to the road and tried again.

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We actually look like very nice, normal people in this picture.

Do not be deceived.

I was thrilled to run into my friend Sarah from HIGHSCHOOL, and we both agreed that it has been nearly 10 years since we saw each other.  She moved to Uganda today, so we had a great time catching up and filling each other in on everything that we have missed in the last ten years.

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Isn’t she cute?

It was great to see her.  (THANKS FOR MEETING ME, RAH!)

Then, it was finally, finally time for the fireworks.

I am not ashamed to admit that I nearly cried through the entire national anthem, but I realized that my tears were screwing up my ability to view the fireworks, so I cut that out as soon as possible.

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Joey had his tripod set up and had a great time taking pictures of the fireworks instead of watching them.

I, on the other hand, sat in the back by my parents and clapped way more than anyone else did when there were pretty fireworks.  Oh well.

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I loved the dark, misty, smoky ambiance the fireworks provided.

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(This is Joey’s favorite firework picture.)

The fireworks were the best I’ve ever seen.  And I’m not just saying that because I was so happy to be home, they really WERE the best.

When the show was over, we all picked up our blankets (I wore mine) and chairs and coolers and headed back to the cars, which were much further away than they had been before we moved.

Joey lagged behind to take pictures of things that caught his eye, so it wound up being me, Mom, Dad and……………….Joey.

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We did get this sweet picture out of the deal, though.  The smoke and glowing lights cast a really orange aura over everything.

By the time we finally made it back to the car, it was obvious that none of the cars were going anywhere.  It was a Traffic jam with a capital T.  So…we made the best of it.  We got the camp chairs out and sat around while we waited, until Joey suggested we go try to take some crazy pictures.

The Kid and I are up for anything, so we went over to the grassy area where we were least likely to get ran over by a road-rage-filled Fourth of July reveler.  Joey set up the time delay thingy on his camera and when he gave his signal, Hunter aimed the flash of another camera up in the air…and The Kid and I jumped.

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The effect is pretty cool.

Soon, everyone was getting in on the action.

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The Kid has major ups here.

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This is the one where everyone jumped too early…and I didn’t jump at all.

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And this may be the world’s best picture of Brother and Laura.  They look amazing.

This kept us amused for awhile, but soon, everyone was kind of feeling like this:

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Poor The Kid.

So we rowdies went back over to the car where the adults were still sitting, talking about whatever it is that adults talk about.  Joey still had his camera out, so we sisters requested a sister picture.

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How nice we look.

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Oh wait…what is that back there…something seems different…

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IT IS POPS…the picture crasher! (This picture is amazing.  I will save it for when I am having a bad day, because every time I look at it I laugh.)

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He cracks us all up real bad, as you can see.

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Joey set his tripod up for one group picture, and we all squished in, big happy family that we are.

We finally got home at midnight.

I never once went to bed when I was supposed to this entire trip home.