July 30, 2009

Mark Twain-ing it in Washington.

It was like a moment out of Tom Sawyer. Jumping from high into the deep pool of ice cold river. Swimming against the current so that it held you in the same place endlessly. Swooshing down the rock bed with the flow of the water. Slip-sliding on the rocks, mossy moss on your arches, heels and in between your toes.

Bathing in Bear Lake.

Mud concoctions. Mud mountains. Mud people.

Mud Marc.



Two crazy, adorable little boys. Most recent twin tale: Their father punished Jonathan (left) and sent him to his room. A little later he told Jeffrey (right) that he needed to go to bed. Jeffrey: "I'm not going in there with that crying man." (To Jonathan and Jeffrey, all males above 2-years old are men). Jonathan also recently found a tampon in Jill's purse, pulled it out and inquired, "How do you put this thing up your butt, Mom?" They are piles of laughter.

Big and little people jet-skiing. As one lovely person put it while we were swimming, these machines are like Harleys on water (maybe not that cool, but as noisy, etc.).

And it wouldn't be Bear Lake without raspberry shakes.

July 23, 2009

Sorting through old photos.

Time moves at a remarkable clip. Here are my grandparents (my mother's parents) circa 1945.

My grandpa Ivan (left) hunting with his brothers, Tom and Max, in 1939.

My grandmother, Ruth, her mother Vera, sisters Joyce and Verda in 1962.

My mom (top), siblings and cousins circa 1960.

My mom (right), older sister Sue (middle), little sister Jeanette (left), brothers Steve and Jeff (behind) in 1963.

Years later, a more recent version of my grandparents.

And yesterday, they are now 87 and 91 years old and grand and glorious as ever.

What is she doing?

One example = bowling.

(With portions of her crazy family. Above is my lucky-charm move - very effective).



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