Pomp and Circumstance

This was a busy weekend in the Schall house.

Our pool is officially open, but inexplicably green.  It’s a horrible tease — we can’t get it clean unless we go out and, you know, clean it.  But it’s been so hot — the last thing I want to do is go outside and clean something.  And then it’s just sitting there, all cold and full of water, that you just want to jump in it and float around — but then you remember that it’s murky and green, and no.  I really don’t.  And our pool guy?  He’s not calling us back, so I want to punch him in his super-tan face.

Also, my super-smart and beautiful cousin graduated from nursing school!  Yay!!  So Saturday night we gathered together with my enormous family (and like, 30 strangers) to celebrate her much-deserved awesomeness.

I didn’t get a picture with the guest of honor, because it was hot, I was sweaty, and she was busy being a social butterfly, so instead I’ll show you one from three years ago — because I know we’d both prefer it that way.

And because hilarity runs in the family, my Aunt took some liberties with the party decorations.  There were inflated surgical gloves in place of balloons, and banners made of surgical masks and medical supplies.  There was also this fella (lady?) sprawled out in the dining room, complete with an IV stand, right next to all the food:

Allegedly they “borrowed” the blow up doll.  Naturally, they had to special order the ass cheeks.

My stepbrother and his ahmazing girlfriend came down with my niece, Olivia, who should seriously be cloned.  Don’t get me wrong — I love a lot of babies (I’m looking at you, Quinn, Anna & Ellie).  But. she. is. perfection.

Is there anything more infectious than baby laughter? Oh, wait.  Hepatitis?  Oh, ok.  Nevermind.

Anyway — Olivia entertained us for hours by throwing things on the floor, and then laughing hysterically.  And then we entertained her mother by telling her stories about how mischievous our babies are, what happens when one of us falls out of bed in the middle of the night, and how many of my female relatives have accidentally farted in front of my husband.*

*Two, in case you were wondering.  Both did it the very first time they ever met him.  And, yes — he noticed, but he’s such a gentleman, he pretended not to.



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