A Few of Many

This weekend has been chock full of everything. So many people, so many thoughts, and oh, so very many feelings.

It's the first weekend of summer and so much happened and so in no particular order except for the first one, because she's the best one, here goes . . .

Yay

Happy Graduation to our darling girl. The poise this kid shows, in the face of everything, is gob-smacking. James would have been so proud. I mean, he would have been complaining about how long it the ceremony was (I'm assuming it was long) and how he had to wear a tie (actually, he probably wouldn't have had to wear a tie), but it's things like this -- his sister's high school graduation -- that make his absence so real, and so wrong. But Clara-girl. There she is. We're so proud, and plus we just really like you so very much. Like, deeply.

And Mom! Man how you rock. Have you missed any one of your grandkids' high school or college graduations? Have you? Why no. You have not. You're incredible.

You're pretty remarkably incredible too, Jacquie. Look at you and your baby girl. We adore you.

(And thanks for letting me steal your photos.)

Okay! Onward. I have peeps to tell you about.

Lisa was here for a week or two and her weather stunk -- like, poo-poo-caca stink-stunk -- but man, did we love having her here. We got to have what we typically can not have -- we had drop-bys. We had hour-visits. We had, "come over for a second" moments. We rocked it. Come back to us!

And this kid. Look at this photo! Billy took it on Saturday afternoon. I've been friends with Christine since my freshman year at UConn which was approximately 7,000 years ago but which was actually, ahem, 38 years ago, and I don't know why I'm saying that because that's impossible. Because we're 38. We had an amazing time with Christine. We had a glorious bike ride. Come back to us!

We celebrated our friend Sharon's life this weekend, too. She was one of the good ones. Funny and smart and irreverent and good to all of us reprobates. Her kids did an an amazing job celebrating her, and we were honored to be a part of it . . .

. . . plus . . .

. . . I know, right?

And finally, Uncle Frank.

We're going to celebrate this guy -- and his incredible legacy and longevity -- this week. As I posted the other day . . . "My sister Julie called his hugs Dad-level, and they were. He was. Of course, he was Italian and Dad was Lebanese but they were so much alike -- maybe it's a surgeon thing? Plus they married Irish sisters and had 12 daughters between them (well, plus he had 6 sons but whatever). He was one of the very best people on this planet, and like his bride, my Auntie Peggy, he always made me feel like I was the only one in the room. Thankful to have had him, thankful for this giant family, thankful for the amazing Pomers."

So many glorious people surround us and we're just so deeply and abidingly grateful. Thank you for being part of us.

And Happy Summer.

Sometimes Peeps

Sometimes, not often, almost never, not ever enough, we get to see some of our peeps . . .

. . . and when we do? . . .

. . .  boy do we love it.

. . . and we look good doing it.

I'm just so deeply thankful. I got to actually have conversations. I have sisters whom I love -- nay, adore -- and never get to speak to. We live millions of miles apart and never get to have face-to-faces. And to finally have one minute to actually talk and think and drink and ponder and reflect?

I've always thought I was one of the luckiest girls in the world . . .

. . . but now I know I am.

HellerFest

The cousins were in town.

We were delighted and excited to see them, and to have them here -- here! -- but here's what I did not anticipate . . .

. . . that this kid, Yagbu's Kevin, my first cousin-once-removed . . .

. . . would be as interested as I am in talking about woodworking. His woodworking and my vicarious interest in woodworking. He's talented and exceptional and did not have an Uncle Morris in his life to tell him the tricks like my Dad did; he figured it out himself. And I wanted to hear every detail.

His great-Uncle Joe would love this kid. And I believe the feeling would be mutual.

His dad Yagbu is one of my all-times. We talked about everything. All the everythings. I'm lucky to have this person as one of my persons . . .

. . . and his Kathy? My girl? She's the reason this all went down and her exuberance and charisma and humor and enthusiasm? I didn't think I could love her more than I did but now I do.

. . . And her daughter? My other girl? The other Ellie? Ellie #2? Also my favorite. I have a lot of favorites.

Speaking of Ellies, Bill made me include this one. #ubiquitous

selfies thanks to Ellie #2

We dragged the lovelies back to our house because The Field.

We think they should all move here . . .

. . . right into the biggest Field in the third smallest state.

Right where they belong.

They're Back

What a lovely weekend.

We got to celebrate the life of Millie Trombley, which was just beautiful. 100 years old is nothing to sneeze at.

And then? We got to see these guys, reunited:

The Hoolios. They're Back . . .

. . . and better than ever.

They played a gorgeous show at our beloved Captain Scott's . . .

. . . and we ran into a friend or two.

. . . or four . . .

. . . or two.

. . . or four.

It's hard to articulate how lovely and comforting and freaking awesome The Hoolios make us feel. Especially combined with summer and friends and, well, life.

They were wonderful and energetic and talented and delicious and we loved them.

What a day.

Happy Summer.

Happy Fielding.

And Happy Iri Season.

Happy Memorial Day!

Have a great day!

Here's my advice to you:

Get yourself a Mistah . . .

. . . have him rework and improve his iconoclastic and possibly genius Willie Wonka Rube Goldberg water feature . . .

 . . . sock in a *lot* of snacks and booze, do a bike ride, go to the beach, frolic in the Field, read in the shade, plant some flowers, listen to baseball on the radio, bask in this long-deserved, outrageously gorgeous weather . . .

. . . and have yourself a fabulous Monday off.

Fielding

The other day our friend Kat asked Rachel and Michelle, "Are you Fielding tomorrow?"

"Oh, we're Fielding."

Because really . . . 

. . . who doesn't like to Field? I'll tell you who does like to Field.
This kid. God, this kid.

I'd like to thank Kat for creating that verb . . .

. . . and for her man for escorting her . . .

. . . and, well, we Fielded . . .

. . . all weekend long.

I'd show you photos of all we did, but neither Mistah nor I can work our muscles or joints or limbs after trashing said muscles and joints and limbs Fielding this weekend, so I'll leave you with this . . .

It's a water feature.

Think Willie Wonka crossed with Beverly Hillbillies combined with A Beautiful Mind tossed in with Rube Goldberg and you're getting close.

It's called Fielding.

A Smattering

It was a big weekend.

I would show you all the amazing photos Mistah has taken of all the beautiful flora these last few days -- and I will -- but right now, I've got a Field to celebrate and a room to clean up and birthday detritus to pack up, so I'm going to share the lesser photos instead.

Except this one is not lesser. Because the Birthday Boy!
Happy Birthday, Mistah.

We had lots of beauty this weekend . . .

. . . hey, bars are beautiful too . . .

. . . see? . . .

. . . see? . . .

. . . SEE? . . .

The birthday boy had himself a great weekend; we celebrated righteously . . . 

. . . and relaxishly.

And we spent a lot of time thinking about this kid . . .

Jimmy at five months old. Can you even?

. . . and about this kid, who became a mumsie on Mother's Day 56 years ago . . .

. . . and about this kid, who is our family's living and breathing heart and soul.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom . . .

. . . Happy Birthday, Colleenie-Girl.

. . . and Happy Birthday, Mistah . . .