Westy Love, Part 1

Last week I turned around in the front seat of the Westy and was shocked to see this:

I wasn’t shocked at the presence of Jacquie’s kids, so much – I mean I did know they were coming to Connecticut, and I did open the door so they could get in the Westy. No, I was shocked by their size. They are gigantic.

I guess I still expect to turn around in the Westy and see this:

And this:

My 8 nieces and nephews – the Chapel Hill-bound oldest to the 7-year old youngest – have seen us coming and going, in and out of their lives, for the last 7½ years.

“How long are Aunt Ellie and Uncle Bill staying this time, Mommy?” “I don’t know, honey. Two months? Maybe three?”

To a one, they love the Westy.

And the Westy loves them.

Julie’s kids and their friends piled into the Westy the moment we pulled in the driveway:

That’s Chapel Hill Girl, second from the right, and her sibs, on her right.

Jane and her kids got a big a big dose of Westy love when we raced to the Midwest when her baby boy was born.

Okay, okay, they’re not technically in the Westy; they're at Wrigley Field. I'm just trying to make a point here.

And Jacquie’s kids have had endless pancake parties in the Westy, in the driveway on Saturday mornings.

Year after year . . .

The Westy is the perfect stage for singing:

"We're gonna have so much fun............"

And dancing:
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This is going to be Chapel Hill Girl’s first album cover.

It's perfect for homework . . .
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. . . for all sorts of hijinks and shenanigans.

Aw, there’s Quinault the Camping Bear, with Jane’s boys.

And there's no better place for getting reaquainted with cousins:

We took Julie’s kids camping a couple of times in the Westy:

This was the time we all wore tie-dyes and I had wicked poison ivy and Julie’s boy fell into the fire and Julie had to take him to the emergency room. Jacquie’s kids love that story.
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And this is the time, a few years later, when nobody fell into the fire. And we had Julie’s Westy too, the maroon one over there on the right. Westy love squared.

Sometimes Mistah Schleckah would get into the act:

This was apparently Westy’s blue stage.

My 3 younger sisters -- the mothers of all these chitlins -- are also the ones with the pets. And oh, how the pets love the Westy too.

Fudgie has spent many hours in the Westy, dreaming doggie-dreams.

Aw, Fudge.

We almost drove away with Ashey lots of times.

There's Hubba-Bubbah, fit to be tied.

And her long-distant cousin Tessie-Dog, who’s too crazed to know how to behave in the Westy, poor insane thing.

And of course, poor ol’ Porgie, she of the adorable paws.

But mostly, this is a story about the great love between Westy and the kids.

These three:

Who are all of a sudden these three:

These three:

Who turned into these three:

And these two:

Who somehow, when I wasn't looking, became:

Sigh.