He did, he turned 35, and we had cake and gave him his present at the lake.
These are some pictures of the weekend that capture a bit of my distress.
See, this is NOT important on any logical level, spiritual level, nothing.
But the mess gets to me. It's spread out wide and far, across the yard and every room.
This mess is mostly Heidi's problem, not even mine, and she dealt with it.
These are my teenagers and kids leaving trash everywhere, also not a big deal.
Dog hair, shoes, an upside down, half-chewed alligator--why would I ever concern myself in the least?
In the name of some kind of order.
Which is important, for some reason, to someone.
Before we leave each time, we put all this mess away, trash, toy bins, run the vacuum, mop the floor.
Life goes on.
Here's one of those Where's Waldo photos of the yard.
Cake time! These cake pans that came with the cabin have a little extra boost to them, a little handle that the baker can run around the cake pan and separate the layer from the pan.
They're an amazing invention.
These two? Smiling, lest they run the risk of really terrible pictures where they are chewing food or farting or something regrettable.
Candles lit--thirty five years of this guy:
Oh no! And now the baby is mad. He didn't get to blow out anything, plus he's bare-handed, has on no gloves.
Bad.
But a do-over, just for him.
He's very much in love with ice cream, especially a Gustafson's pail of caramel swirl. The ingredients include sweetened condensed milk. Holy cow, no pun intended.
And then?
At some unfortunate point, this beautiful weekend had to end.
And so we are all back home again in the city. The cabin is empty and dark.
For a few days.
love you all so, MOM, aka GRANDAMA, aka (whisper) val
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