sunset

Taken back in October when we still had a few dramatic leaves.

I have to clean some photos off my laptop, so expect to see a few more images completely unrelated to anything.

disappointment? never.

Apples-to-Apples has become a Thanksgiving tradition at our place the past few years now. To the disappointment of Cupcake, who refers to it as "that *$#&@! game". Personally, I don't think she's drinking enough.

My husband is behind the trigger for this shot.

1946

I'll have to ask Gramma the occasion for this portrait. Donnie was born in 1945, so I'm guessing the year. I think Grampa would've been out of the army at this point, but maybe not. Otherwise, I'm not sure of his whereabouts. Maybe this photo was a gift for him. Isn't Mom adorable in her little sailor suit though? I love it. My uncle Ronnie would not be born yet for another seven years, so really there aren't that many photos of Mom and her youngest brother together, as there's a thirteen year difference. Ronnie is just five years older then my brother making him closer in age to his nephew then his siblings. I know, you've stop reading this three sentences back.

I just wanted to post this photo before Thanksgiving as I'll be busy now with turkey, and dressing, and furniture arranging to accommodate fourteen people. We won't be traveling north to be with these folks, mainly because Thanksgiving to my parents means hunting season, so we share this holiday with our own kids and several friends instead. But we're thinking about them and hope they give thanks by bagging a few deer.

To any of you (still) reading this, I hope your Thanksgiving is equally full of family, friends, food and blessings.

feats of strength!

Uncle Donnie looks to be about four so I'm guessing this was taken in 1949.

bear.

Returning from a family visit up north means I have more old photos and stories to share. This one is by request from my Uncle Donnie, the taller of the two mischievous youngsters shown here. (Not counting the bear.) Circa 1957 or so.

Story has it, another relative shot this bear on a rather cold day, and left it lie overnight, possibly a few days even, outside. Result? Bearsicle. He then hauled it over to my grandparents' milkhouse to thaw out. Didn't take long for the Revling boys to realize they had a photo-op on their hands. Here Donnie is protecting Ronnie from certain bear annihilation armed only with a pipe wrench. Ronnie doesn't seem all that worried.

Click here to see more retro family photos. They keep coming so I keep adding...

kensi & nigel

Kensi, always on the alert.

Nigel, always ready to nap.

i miss warm grass already

please, no photos

I thought Cam might appreciate some equal time being photographed, but nothing doing. He's got chipmunks to fillet.

muffin top

My little pumpernickel loaf hanging over the side of the bed belonging to parents' pekingese. What a porker.

attack!

We went up to my parents this weekend. They haven't raked yet. Nigel took advantage. Last autumn he still had enough vision to see where your hand was and dive at you with his mouth wide open and this carnivorous look that pretty much told you to get the hell out of the way, fast. This year you're much safer as he now listens for "the wind up" then jumps for "the pitch". It's highly amusing. If you throw a handful of leaves at Kensi, she just stands there. "How is this fun now?"

Dogs with o.c.d. are clearly more entertaining.

may i?

Can I just say my gramma is beautiful? She still is. We're heading north tomorrow to visit her. Well, other family too, but you know, whatever.

She gets a kicks out of the pugs, but in typical gramma-style can't pronounce Nigel's name correctly. She calls him Nod-jo. He answers to it though, so I guess he's cool with it.

Actually, he'll answer to Betty if there's food in your hand.

in his honor

To all who have served.

Thank you.

teat man

Grampa walks into a bar, sits at a stool and proceeds to tell a fellow patron that his best cow gave him fifteen gallons of milk that day! The bartender, overhearing the story says, "That's bullshit! No cow can produce fifteen gallons of milk in one day."

Time passes and another gentleman comes in, and sits on the other side of Grampa.

"By golly, I had a cow today give me twelve gallons of milk!" he says proudly.

"Wait a minute," yells the bartender, "just a short time ago you claimed that cow gave you fifteen gallons!"

"Yeah, but that's before you said it was bullshit."



True story. Sums the man up perfectly.

no goofing at the table!

I'm not even sure what's going on here. As long as he made his little girl laugh, mission accomplished!

dog & whiskey

I have a few too many side projects in the works. One being adding names and images to my family tree, and another is scanning and cleaning up shots of my mom's parents so I can eventually compile a book. Both are ridiculous undertakings as more photos and information keep popping up. I've got my sister involved in the research now, so she's cursing me via email regularly.

This strange gentleman is my Grampa Revling. Of which (no exaggeration) hundreds of photos exist. Compare that to images of my dad's dad, and well, I have yet to collect one. Grampa loved being in front of, and behind the camera. There are boxes filled with shots of his family, his dogs and cats, his cows, his tractors, the homes and furniture he built, the cars he owned, weather conditions...well, you get the idea. I'm guessing Grampa would've been on flickr had it existed at the time.

Grampa passed in 2002. I feel pretty fortunate to have grown up next door to this nutjob. I miss his stories, which on occasion were total bullshit. Fiction could always improve on truth in Grampa's book. And of course, whiskey could improve on fiction.