SUMMARY: An annual birthday party in Visalia.
(With some but not very sincere apologies to Team Small Dog for shamelessly stealing her theme AND dialog for today's post.)
So I went to a sleepover party this weekend.
Every year (for roughly 25 years) we've gone to Visalia--in California's central valley where it's HOT in August--for my brother-in-law's birthday sleepover party. It was cute when they were in college. Now, outsiders find it odd that we're still taking our sleeping bags and sleeping out for two nights on the lawn in his parents' back yard next to the pool. (Caption: Bunches of group photos. This year was one of the smallest Vicons ever, only 17 people.)
But, ha!, we enjoy ourselves! Take that! (Plus, now, it's tradition!) Even if it is 102 F when we arrive at 6 Friday evening.
And I am always the photographer. (Caption: Me checking some photos. This was one of five Mac Powerbooks in this very back yard. Not a Windows in sight. Ha! Again!)
(Caption: I had some help, though. (Damn iPhones with their built-in cameras!))
(Caption: Much fun at "Vicon.")
(Caption: We mostly hang out in the shade by the pool. VERY traditional.)
(Caption: Reading is an important tradition so that your brain doesn't rot in the sun while doing nothing for 3 days. Especially if you know the author. )
(Caption: Nice guests.)
(Caption: I make some new friends. And I don't even drink beer.)
(Caption: Cute nieces and nephews are de rigueur.)
(Caption: Wild Hawaiian shirts are de rigueur AND traditional. Plus breakfast in the shade, with a very traditional scrambled eggs, toast, and sausagey-type meat products.)
(Caption: One of my favorite traditions: Birthday cake Saturday night!)
(Caption: An innovation this year: Movies alfresco.)
(Caption: Did you know how easy it is to make a Richard M. Nixon shadow image?)
Caption: A big toast. (It's hot. Everyone's always drinking something.)
Every year, I take my "The Party's here" sign out of my attic, put it into the car, drive 3 hours, set it up on the front lawn of the party house, leave it there for 3 days, take a photo of it (not sure why--another tradition), put it back into my car, drive it home, and put it back into my attic.
(Caption: Here's what it looked like this year.)
(Caption: Here's the very funny thing: We look it up on Google maps Street View. What perfect timing their cameras had last year!)
Tomorrow (or whenever): Back to the dogs.