plum.

This past weekend I went to Neb to celebrate my grandpa's 80th birthday at my dad's family's cabin on Plum Creek. First of all, consider me the world's worst person for not realizing my gpop was 80 this year until a couple months ago when I got my gma's "Shhhhh it's a surpriiiiiiise" invitation. The worst granddaughter of the year award came by courier shortly thereafter. But when I saw my grandpa actually stop dead in his tracks because he couldn't believe his whole family came out to celebrate his life, I'll be honest... I got super misty (no surprise there). I was just happy I was wearing sunglasses. I'm gonna go ahead and be a brat and brag about the fact that I got to hug him first (like it was my idea the whooooole time). But really, the weekend was awesome with the exception of one tiny fact: mi padre spotted my stamp. And no, we're not talking tramp style. Give me a break, I have more class than that. But there definitely was a reason I kept this little detail of my life from my pops as long as I could. The last thing I need in my life is to feel like a failure as a daughter... but when you hear from your brother of your dad, "One of my greatest accomplishments as a parent is the fact that you and your sister don't have tattoos..." you feel a little bit like a dumbass. Secretly the spite was a little fun, but not enough to outweigh the complete un-awesomeness of my role as a daughter. So after about 5 minutes, I got over it and on with my life. Sort of. I think despite the sarcasm, Pops realized that I'm still an OK little lady. It could be worse.

Soooo the weekend progressed with an ungodly amount of food (I'm pretty sure I ate my body weight in my gmom's caramel pecan rolls, onion dip, trail mix, raisin bars and cookies... not to mention being forced seconds, thirds, and eighths at every meal), tubing with my cousin which was basically the equivalent of getting caned (skidding across a set of waves going 30 mph feels more being launched out of a cannon at a set of stone steps... a fact I apparently had forgotten despite my 23 summers at the lake), watching my dad jump off the dock via a mini trampoline... and by "jump" clearly I mean "barely skim off the edge"... just fantastic, drinking Miller High Life..., pretending I was a gymnast on the trampoline, listening to my uncle's band's debut album "Yes, Indeed" from his Hawaiian group the Na Hilahila Boys (toolegittoquit), sleeping open-air style with my parents-brother-cousins-cousin+girlfriend-uncle-aunt+uncle-and spiders on the second floor loft of the cabin (surprisingly this has never been awkward except for the time I walked up the stairs to find my g-parent's foreign exchange student stark naked... the same person who just so happened to make a surprise visit this past weekend. ohh the irony.), watching my grandparents' blind dog try to maneuver around the cabin and occasionally fall off the deck..., winning a swimming race against my older brother (OK, maybe I was the only one who thought it was a race, but I still considered it a victory), and painting a piggy bank during the inevitable and unavoidable arts and crafts time (unless you have chest hair). Ok, so the pig painting actually was pretty fun thanks to my stepmom, but whatever.

This is my family and this is my life. Jealousy is understandable.