I could write a blog. I have thoughts.

Life at the library, adventures with friends and other hysterics...

Friday, September 27, 2013

Maybe "Thor's hammer" is a new color of nail polish.

So it worked, he was shocked.

I'm still shocked he didn't figure it out beforehand, but I think enough time had gone by that he had just assumed it was over.

You should have seen his face when he walked in the door.

He was so happy I totally cried.

Though before and immediately after that it was pure madness.

Half the world was there and we exploded out of the party room and into the main dining hall.

160 people.

But he is 70 so he's met a lot of people through the years.

It was nice, we had really good food and went through and introduced ourselves.

I got to explain that I was the baby and they kept having kids until they got perfection and then they stopped. Cause, you know, I'm perfect.

Right.

Was good to see extended family, though it was amusing because, as mentioned, I was the baby so Mom and Dad used to take me everywhere. So they all know me but it was so long ago I totally don't remember all their names. But of course you can't tell them that, especially when they ask all about the library which really implies that they know you.

Except for that one guy who didn't know who was in the picture on the invitation because when he was in their lives they only had 3 kids.

And finally the Favorite Aunties and the Cool Aunt met the boyfriend.

And they didn't give him the 3rd degree like his aunts gave me so I'm calling it a victory.

Though he was sucked into a black hole and talked trains with Dad's train friends for like an hour. Squirt got him a plate before they took the food away, it was amusing.

It was fun, he had fun, tons of pictures were taken, I'm sure many will find their way to Facebook.

And I'm out, back to work tomorrow.

I'm Gonna Take That Mountain - Reba


I'm sorry but her dancers freak me out. Good song though.

oh the title is from Big Bang. been watching that again lately when I go to sleep.

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