Actually it would be #3, but I ditched one because I just have so much freakin’ family!
Just joshin’. I love my fam, all four sides of them and beyond, there just isn’t enough time to get around to everyone.
This reunion was my fraternal in-law side, “The Rich Kids.” Jason’s grandma is celebrating her 90th birthday and all she wanted for her birthday was to gather her whole family together and party hardy.
She is an AMAZING woman and I can only hope to be as sharp and active when I’m 90. It’s debatable that I’m as sharp and active at 40.
Over the weekend Grandma kicked a soccer ball around with her great grandsons, hiked two miles into a spring, and cut a rug with Grandpa during a song dedication to commemorate their meeting at a dance.
Most of her posterity of 3 children, 15 grandchildren, 46 great grandchildren, plus spouses were present for this weekend celebration of her life.
To kick off the weekend, I was put in charge of games on Friday morning.
They know who to call to get the party started.
I decided to introduce the Rich clan to a game that has become legendary on my side of the family. It is reverently known as “The Chicken Pants” and is the brainchild of my ubercreatvie aunt.
She made these ginormous pants with hula hoops sewn into the waistline which you put on and hold up, then stand out in a large grassy area with other hula hoop pant-wearing opponents and aggressively attempt to catch sling shot launched rubber chickens in your pants.
The Riches are little more straight laced, i.e. normal, than my family so it took them a minute to catch the vision of this game and get into it, but once they let down their guard and cashed int their pride, they looked every bit as white trash as my family does when we do it.
When they were all chickened out, we introduced them to other intellectual stimulators such as “Dip,” “Yell,” and “I’ve Never.”
Grandma laughed so hard I worried she wouldn’t make it to her birthday party that night.
She did, thank goodness.
I was off party duty, for obvious reasons, but my sisters-in-law put on a killer bash for Grandma. The cabin walls were decorated with photos from each decade of Grandma’s life, there was a talent show, a retrospective video of Grandma’s life, a dance, and an original song written and performed for Grandma by one of her musically-gifted grandsons.
The dinner afterward was put on by my chef extraordinaire sister-in-law and it was to die for: BBQ chicken wrapped in bacon and topped with cheese, avocado and salsa, dutch oven potatoes, spinach salad, and homemade cherry pie made with fresh cherries pitted by hand.
If I were in charge of preparing a meal for over one hundred people in a cabin in the woods I’m pretty sure my guests would get a choice of hotdog or hamburger with a side of Doritos and a Twinkie for dessert.
Maybe that’s why I was put in charge of games.
The whole thing was grand.
We are Richly blessed to have her as the grand dame of the Rich clan.
“She can die happy now,” my mother-in-law said.
We told her not to say that to Grandma.