Yes, I’m back. Yes, I took 1118 photos. Suddenly I was the unofficial, well, really more official, photographer. It’s okay with me. I love reunions — this is with my mom’s family. Going to Yellowstone, totally filling the tour bus (awesome, though the day was a bit too long); getting reacquainted, especially with my little cousins who are no longer so little, y’know; seeing my sibs some more; cracking up at my uncles, who are really a hoot when they get together; “It’s a cat!” “A what?” A virtually unplugged trip — though not so unplugged that I couldn’t send a couple of brief emails and leave a post here.
Incidentally, to expound upon that last post: one of the favored activities on Sunday afternoon (after church, after pictures) was bounce-rides on the air mattress.
They piled a few air mattresses together in my uncle’s family room — two on top of each other, one to the side with the edge under the other two. One of the small cousins/great-grandkids (i.e. around 10 and under) would lie on the edge of the higher pile, and a couple of bigger cousins (anywhere from 14 to 25) would jump on the pile, causing the smaller body to fly up, off, then down onto the mattress on the side. Several other cousins were standing up around the landing pad, catching small people who threatened to fly off in unauthorized directions. (Then later they tried it on Uncle Steve; needless to say, he didn’t go far.)
I didn’t get any very good photos of this, but do you have the mental picture? All these teenagers (most of them hulking boys, the male to female ratio of cousins is seriously skewed) standing around bouncing the little kids (shrieking with laughter – even my daughter! who tends to be cautious) into the air, carefully catching them if necessary. It warms the very cockles of my heart just thinking about it.