Vessels and Vegetables

 On the Sunday of the long weekend, we put all the various groups of people together.

First Matt and I drove an hour or so away to see my nephew's rowing competition. We were really happy to get to go to one of his events, since our various siblings have watched a LOT of baseball in support of our kid. 

It was a hilariously poorly organized event - Timothy had only found out the night before that he had a hotel room. We didn't know where to park, we didn't know where to stand, but we were there, and we saw boats with people in them, and we were happy. 

Then we brought the big kids over to Jeremy and Laura's house for a giant Indian food feast. I love how these pictures kind of sketch out the mingling of the groups.

(I feel like Lydia is rocking big "BBC Dad's daughter Marion" energy in this next one):

My sister-in-law Sarah and I were admiring some of the artwork on the walls. There was one in particular that we kept getting stuck on what the caption meant.

"I love you Brokie? I love you Brockle? What could it be?"

Lydia came in from the back yard and we asked her. She looked at us as if we were being mind-bogglingly simple, and said carefully "I love you broccoli". And then we realized we hadn't actually properly looked at the picture. 

Sarah and I  - ninetyish years and three advanced university degrees between us - looked at each other, and were ashamed. Also, is that not the most terrifying broccoli you've ever seen? Like, broccoli that bites you back?

I promise I will have exhausted this weekend in like two, max three, more posts.