This is Bear Bear. He’s been in our lives for a while. About eight years, acutally. He belongs to a certain little nephew of mine. Bear Bear is a friendly fellow and has endeared himself to the hearts of many little cousins and siblings and even aunts, uncles and parents.
Last night, Gage came home with a terrible headache and went to bed in misery without the comfort of Bear Bear, who had gone missing.
During the night, a voilent storm blew through the area, a loud thunderclap sent me tearing out of bed to look out the window and check the radar. I peeked at the babies in their beds and noticed that Trux was clasping Bear Bear in his fists.
So this morning at breakfast I asked Gage if he missed Bear Bear last night.
“Did you know that Trux had him in his playpen?” I asked.
“No ma’am!” He answered, his eyes growing huge.
An hour later when I was in my room checking email Gage came in and asked if I thought it would be okay if he got Bear Bear now. Once he found the bear on the bed, he hugged it to his face and said under his breath as he was walking by Trux – “Was he cozy?”
I assumed that he was talking to Truxton, but then after he had left the room I heard him say (undoubtedly to his Bear Bear) “It’s okay if you sleep with him once in a while.”
These two thugs are my brothers. Some of them anyway – I have a couple more. For some unexplainable reason, this picture makes me want to cry.
Where did the time go? Almost more importantly, is it going to go by that fast in the next 25 years? Because I don’t think I can stand it if that happens.
A very scary group of little girls. Please note: SCARY. Not a group you’d want to meet in a dark alley.
Truxton with Grandma J. He felt very comfortable with his Grandparents J. Comfortable – get it?
Grandma hanging out in the kitchen – which is pretty much what she does all the time. In fact, calling someone “Gretchen” has become a euphemism of sorts in the J. family. It means to come and sit down and join the festivities.
Truxton as the centerpiece. Eating breakfast can be very exhausting.
Sophie and Grandpa J. dead-heading flowers. Grandpa informed her that dead-heading flowers is one of the things old men do best.
While there are still tons of pictures remaining from our trip (over a month ago?!?), we’re interrupting the regularly scheduled programming to bring you these important messages.
Brought to to you by Barbasol Moisturizing Therapeutic Shave Cream for Sensitive Skin Gentlewood Cottage, division of anti boredom.
For more videos of our gang and this lovely sport, click here.
And here. And here. And here. And here.
Thank you. We now return you to the regularly scheduled programming.
On our second full day in Los Alamos (which was Mama’s birthday), we experienced a thunderstorm with major hail. There’s nothing else quite like the thunder in Los Alamos – it rolls around on the mountains and echos in the canyons. It is truly amazing.
These storms come over the mountains and are on top of the town on about twenty minutes. At about one in the afternoon, the sky suddenly darkened.
Then it darkened some more.
Then all hail broke loose, as Dan would say. I mean, we’re talking a lot of hail. Golf ball sized hail. Some people downtown said that there was even the occasional baseball sized hail.
Then, as quickly as the storm came up, it passed over us, leaving behind hundreds of thousands of dollars of damage.