We surprised the bejabbers out of my mom Saturday. We had all of her sliblings (I know, that’s a typo, but it’s kinda fun to read that way) and a couple of her cousins and a couple of her neices and her best bud from school and assorted spouses and spouses-to-be all shipped in from all around, and her offspring and a couple of local friends too. Here are some moments:

When we had a lot of people assembled, I went across the street to get Mom, and thought I’d come up with something clever to get her to come over. What did my brilliant mind come up with? Black stuff on my grout. Black stuff? On my grout?? Sheesh. But she totally fell for it. Gotta love my mom.

When my friend and her husband were leaving, my four-year-old nephew, a car fanatic, was exclaiming over their ’68 Porsche. My sister-in-law pointed out that the gas tank and trunk were in the front, and then asked if he knew where the engine was. When she pointed to the back, he made this totally delighted guyish sound like “wha ha haaAAAaaa!” And then he skipped in a circle.

When my uncle and my brother dragged our old fally-aparty porch swing over to put on the fire, my cousin says “If you burn furniture on your bonfire, you might be a redneck.”

Damn, I knew I should’ve blogged earlier. Cabana Boy had several blog-worthy comments, and I totally forget what they were. In fact, I should probably just put a mic on him. Half the stuff that comes out of his mouth is blog-worthy.