Tuesday, January 08, 2008

In Which We Welcome a New Member of the Crazy Cousins
















Can I just tell you how much I love my cousins? The ones from Mom's side of the family do something along these lines every time we get together. Even at Grandpa Madeira's funeral.
















Cousin Dave got married during part of that time between the Overly Delayed Flight and the Urban-Traffic-Like Headcold. The wedding was beautiful and grace-filled (which was needed, given some of the extraneous family dynamics). The reception was One Great Party. The cousins were . . . crazy. My sister-in-law was inducted into this batch of cousins this way when she married my brother, so we had to do the same thing to Liz. Congratulations, you two!

(If anybody noticed that the dress I'm wearing looks familiar--sorry. But thank you for reading my blog this long.)

The other exciting event during this time was that my Mom turned the same age as my Dad on New Year's Day. They look pretty great, huh?

5 comments:

maryannie said...

i like how we all somehow decided to point in the crazy cousins picture... what are we pointing at? what inspired this pointing frenzy?

those turned out great! I'm glad you're my cousin, Jenn!

dave grosser said...

Yay.

heather goodman said...

okay, the girl with the turquoise tight and orange hat--i'd like to have coffee with her.

www.heatheragoodman.com

David Madeira said...

Apparently, pointing fingers is a family pastime. I'm not sure that's a good thing.

Thanks, Jenn, for this great post, and especially thanks for being at our wedding! It was so great to see you and the rest of the cousins, however brief it was.

Much love to you!

Jenn said...

MaryAnnie--but *I'm* not. How come nobody told me? I feel so left out! (I'm glad you're my cousin, too.)

Dave Grosser--yay.

Heather--I'm not sure she drinks coffee yet. But maybe.

David Madeira--wow. Oh wow. Yeah. I don't think I can argue with you about that. Anyway, I'm really glad I was able to go. It was a blast. Too bad we couldn't stay later . . .

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