Sixteen adults, four small children, one visiting dog, one house in the Santa Cruz mountains. One husband-and-wife pair’s birthdays, so a large pecan pie got roasted and sung over.
I didn’t catch the eighteen-month-old before my camera battery died, but I did get the youngest on her determined way.  Doggone, but Cinnamon the Norse (I think that’s what they said) terrier learned fast that tiny people who walk funny or crawl are to be kept a distance from–it was amazing watching how adept the dog was at ducking around, under, and between those chair parts. Not in an overly big hurry, just, nope, kid. Must be so big or bigger to come play.
In the kitchen, I told Aunt Nancy at one point, “Here, let me do that,” and her reaction was, “Are you kidding? I found a chore I could do. This is mine!” Which is a lot of how the day went: people looking for their chance to pitch in and help, when there were already so many ready hands.
Aunt Nancy is the wife of my father-in-law’s oldest brother. She has beautifully-done dark strawberry blonde highlights. I looked at her and grinned, “It’s not fair; some of us, you know, our roots don’t grow in dark.” (Not that I’m dyeing mine anymore anyway.) She looked at me and my gray, a good generation younger, and guffawed appreciatively. We had a wonderful visit.
I brought my Lisa Souza Timaru yarn in Peacock and had a few of the women going oooh! over it, telling me how gorgeous it is. And it is. I’d show it to you, too, except I forgot to recharge that camera battery last night.
And a very good time was had by all.