Click on pictures for descriptors

Just so you know, this post is being made out of a total sense of obligation. Translation: my Mother has badgered me non-stop since Memorial Day to commemorate our day on the pontoon by posting the pictures onto our blog. She does this every single holiday, to the point I’ve told her to get her own blog, to which the sassifrass then replies that it’s obvious I only know how to write and really don’t even know how to upload pictures, to which I then have to acquiesce because Mom did pack FRIED CHICKEN on the boat.

Which means, because I did get to spend Sunday of Memorial Day weekend sitting on a pontoon on “the reservoir” (refer to prior postings that “school” you on Midwestern lingo: all things start with the word “the”, as there is just “the one” of anything in any town), listening to THE Race, eating fried chicken…she can have all the pictures she wants.

BUT SHE SHOULD KNOW I’m SUPER late in posting Kelly’s 10 month letter, and today IS MY HUSBAND’S BIRTHDAY, which means he is owed some sort of teary-eyed ODE TO GREG. BUT NOOOOO, her pictures are being posted first. See what a little cold boat chicken will get you lady? I have few demands. Hot chicken salad made with peas ain’t ever going to make that list.

Now Mom, before you call, I know what you’re going to ask, “WHERE are all the pictures of Avery? OH GOD WHERE?” A little background for our friends, I’ve also told Mom to start her own Avery blog. I love my niece, but I’m not in the business of blogging for my sister. Not without a fee. But Mom, back to your question, I took about a million pictures of Avery. Apparently Jenny has yet to figure out that when you grow out your daughter’s bangs, she’s going to need a barrette on a boat. I have 50 pictures of a 3 year old blonde version of Thing from The Addam’s Family. Not even an eye peeking out to prove it’s the A-bomb. Which is for the best while she’s going through her latest, “There’s just no way in hell I’m smiling for you people” phase.

Happy Belated Memorial Day everyone.  We went out on the pontoon.  We hung out our flag.  Rex came home for a visit. We listened to yet another FANTASTIC Indy 500 (you can only listen to it on the radio…anyone who watches it on some new-fangled satellite gets immediately kicked out of the state), and I ate fried chicken.  Seriously people, that is as reminiscent of my childhood as you’re ever going to get.  It was a great weekend.