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xiphiasThis morning, when I was reading LJ, I heard a loud yelp from the bedroom.
See, we've got this drop ceiling in the bedroom which is covered with acousitical tiles.
One fewer than last night. It fell down as Lis was reading on the bed, and bounced off of MY side of the bed, right next to Lis. It rather startled her, and there's now a hole in the drop ceiling.
Anyway, my grandparents' birthday. . . .
My mother's parents have both turned eighty, so their kids threw them a joint birthday party. It was at a Chinese restaurant in Peabody. There were probably about seventy-five people there or so, of whom I knew perhaps a third.
Winter Rose, my niece, was there -- she was the only child, and got bored, even though her Uncle Ian and Aunt LeeLee (my sister Leila) both played with her quite a bit.
One impressive thing they had there was a scrapbook which had some photos I'd not seen. My sister, looking through the scrapbook, said, "Damn. I hate to say it, but Papa was hot." My cousin Ben said, "Yeah -- we all knew Nana was hot, because we all saw the pictures growing up. But we assumed that Papa had kind of married up a little, y'know? But, no, they were BOTH hot."
We hadn't seen the swimsuit shots of my grandfather, from about, I guess, 1940 or so. He was built. The photo of him in a swimsuit really looks a hell of a lot like those Charles Atlas photos. I pointed to the photo and said to Lis, "See? That's what us Beckers look like if we work out." But Papa's comment was that he just looked like that -- he didn't exercise or anything.
Then there were the photos of him with a real Brando thing going on.
I want to get scans of these photos to put up on the Web, because, well, damn, I come from good-looking stock.
See, we've got this drop ceiling in the bedroom which is covered with acousitical tiles.
One fewer than last night. It fell down as Lis was reading on the bed, and bounced off of MY side of the bed, right next to Lis. It rather startled her, and there's now a hole in the drop ceiling.
Anyway, my grandparents' birthday. . . .
My mother's parents have both turned eighty, so their kids threw them a joint birthday party. It was at a Chinese restaurant in Peabody. There were probably about seventy-five people there or so, of whom I knew perhaps a third.
Winter Rose, my niece, was there -- she was the only child, and got bored, even though her Uncle Ian and Aunt LeeLee (my sister Leila) both played with her quite a bit.
One impressive thing they had there was a scrapbook which had some photos I'd not seen. My sister, looking through the scrapbook, said, "Damn. I hate to say it, but Papa was hot." My cousin Ben said, "Yeah -- we all knew Nana was hot, because we all saw the pictures growing up. But we assumed that Papa had kind of married up a little, y'know? But, no, they were BOTH hot."
We hadn't seen the swimsuit shots of my grandfather, from about, I guess, 1940 or so. He was built. The photo of him in a swimsuit really looks a hell of a lot like those Charles Atlas photos. I pointed to the photo and said to Lis, "See? That's what us Beckers look like if we work out." But Papa's comment was that he just looked like that -- he didn't exercise or anything.
Then there were the photos of him with a real Brando thing going on.
I want to get scans of these photos to put up on the Web, because, well, damn, I come from good-looking stock.