That’s the name my husband’s sister gave our gathering, and it’s the name that stuck. It also happens to totally fit.

Nine siblings from around the globe—Las Vegas! Oregon! Tennessee! Hong Kong! Etc!—descending upon a large red house in upstate New York with eight spouses (we missed you, Rachel!) and twenty-three grandchildren (we missed you, Mallory!) was bound to have a sort of Kaboom Effect. And it did, but not at all in a bad way. Just in a very loud sort of way, with lots of people, wet swimming suits, dogs, and beer. At mealtimes, watching the hoards descend upon the kitchen, the phrase “a crush of human bodies” kept running through my mind. It was impressive.

Also impressive:

*That nine siblings can gather for a good 48 hours and actually get along! They visited and frolicked the whole time, together. Not once did I witness a single episode of nasty rudeness, and if anyone had to step out for some deep breathing, I didn’t notice. In other words, graciousness reigned. Which is either a tribute to the Parents Supreme or just bountiful good luck.

*An evening out for the 17 adults! The 23 kids holding down the fort! While we feasted on burgers and fish tacos (and then hopped across the street to finish up the evening at a bar), the children made a supper of sloppy Joes, watched a movie, and had secret snack. When we returned, all the littles were in bed, the kitchen was spotless, and a fire was blazing in the fire pit on the deck.

*The awesome bartender who stood precariously high on a wobbly stool (chair? table?) and took lots of pictures of us!

*The vast quantity of alcohol consumed!

(The first time I visited my husband-then-boyfriend at his parents’ house, I unwisely picked the beer-filled cooler upon which to park my butt. I spent the evening jumping up. Times have not changed, except this year it was my father-in-law who made the unwise seating choice. However, considering that he’s not a drinker and he’s not as limber as a 19-year-old and it was rather rude to ask him to repeatedly stand up, perhaps his seating choice was intentional?)

*Our extravagantly generous hosts!

*The lake! The lake! The lake! Several of the brothers had rented a lake house and each afternoon we’d all descend on the little house with a big dock and the entire Seneca Lake for a backyard. It was an all-you-can-swim/boat/fish party.

*Also, lots of other activities! There was hiking at the gorge, a trip to the lake to see fireworks, small-group visits to the grandparents’ new, downsized home, bracelet making, the all-family photo shoot, and daily-life events like shopping, biking, running, and, of course, lots of cooking and eating.

bracelet making…

the fire pit…

the gorge…

just hanging…

*The (almost) zero presence of electronic devices! Instead, the cousins played. And played. And played and played and played. Watching them romp with such abandon, I felt like my children were being granted something extremely rare and precious—sacred, practically—that will be theirs to treasure for life. What a gift.

And then we headed home. On the way, we treated our kids to McDonald’s for breakfast (they were not impressed), my coffee had a face, and a random box of cheerios from Grandma saved the day (and got completely polished off).

THE END.


This same time, years previous: the quotidian (8.11.14), goodbye, getting my halo on, there’s that, a bout of snarky, sanitation and me, quick, quick, quick, and how to can peaches.

PS. A couple weeks ago, I was interviewed for a local podcast! If you’d like to hear me prattle on about blogging, parenting, and cooking, go here. (Other local bloggers were also interviewed, so, to Harrisonburg residents: be sure to check out those podcasts, too.)

This same time, years previous: a new friend, cheesy herb pizza, babies and boobs, the end, corn crepecakes, best banana bread, the quotidian (8.6.12.), and crunchy dill pickles.    

Last week when I went to the midwives for a routine check-up (I am not pregnant), I learned (from a blood draw that ran amok—have you ever had them pierce a nerve instead of the vein? I practically levitated right out of my chair) that I have a vitamin D deficiency. So take the vitamin D pills, the midwife said.

Back home, I read up on vitamin D deficiencies. From the research, it would appear that pretty much everyone has one. Those who are most susceptible include dark-skinned and obese people, as well as people who consistently use sunblock or stay out of the sun. Even though you can get trace amounts of vitamin D from food, this vitamin is actually manufactured by the body—exposure to sunlight is what triggers the production—which means that vitamin D is not an actual vitamin. While some sources said a supplement is adequate, others said that the only effective way to raise levels is through noontime sun exposure to the trunk of the body (insert elephantine trumpet sounds).

So I did something I never, ever, evereverever do: I laid out. Because I’m so pasty pale and ridiculously sun sensitive, I set the timer for just ten minutes before hoisting my shirt and making myself comfortable on the deck, my head on a pillow just inside the shady doorway. (Once I asked my husband to take a picture, but he refused, claiming the glare from my stomach was too blinding.) That evening I noticed that my stomach was covered in little red, raised dots. Did I burn that fast? Good grief.

Over the next week I continued to sunbathe off and on, never for more than ten minutes and sometimes for as little as five. The dots persisted. In fact, my whole stomach was a puffy, non-itchy rash. Was it hives? Did I have a sun allergy?

As luck would have it, this was the week I was scheduled to see my dermatologist for (yet another) routine check-up. After scrutinizing my stomach, she declared it a heat rash. It was perfectly harmless, she said. I could continue to toast my tummy in moderate amounts, should I wish. But why not just take the pills? She added that right now researchers are reevaluating the recommended range for vitamin D levels. Since so many people are deficient, they’re questioning whether they might have set the levels too high.

So now I’m wondering how to proceed. Should I take the pills? Keep sunbathing? Ignore the whole thing? I’m at a loss.

PS. The dermatologist told me I have beautiful skin. After a minute or two of pondering that unexpected observation—I consider my skin to be functional, not beautiful—I asked what her indicators were for beautiful skin. No sun damage, she said. No sun spots and discoloring. That’s funny, I said, because I had horrible sunburns as a child. Well, you’ve taken such good care of your skin that you’ve reversed the damage, she said. Huh. I had no idea skin damage could be reversed. Did you?

This same time, years previous: do you strew?, heading north, the quotidian (7.30.12), a quick pop-in, shrimp, mango, and avocado salad, and experimenting.