Guest Posting and What's Up in Iowa

Dudes! I survived the weekend road-trip with my parents!

Actually, I'm not even really here to say that. Adam, AKA DJTrain over at The Train's Whistle was given the Kreativ Blogger Award, and suggested I write it as a guest post. Woot-woot! My first guest post! I have to say, not only did I have fun with it, I think it's some of my best - and indeed most creative - writing so far. Go check it out HERE! (and while you're there be sure to read some of his earlier stuff. It's pretty cool.)

Since I wrote a full post already, I'm just going to share some photos from this weekend's trip, and call it a day. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words!
(I'm including an extra special bonus)

First, to catch you up in general. Last week on Thursday I went out to watch Brett's softball game. I brought along homemade peanut-butter cookies, and before heading to the game...

...we spread them with Nutella, satisfying the debate happening over on Rusty's blog.

yes, there are milk chocolate chips in some of them. I like to experiment.

At the game, I was commissioned to write for The Train's Whistle, as I linked to above.

Here he is: the man, the myth, the Coach DJTrain!

On Friday, my parents, my aunt, and I headed off towards Iowa.

The Amana Colonies are an Amish community in Eastern Iowa.

Iowa is NOT flat! It is gently rolling prairie - well, fields now.

That gets me every time. People who've never been there think Iowa is flat. Not true, people. You are mistaking Iowa for Kansas.

This cracked me up...

You "redeem" your empties for the deposit, but it sounds
as if there's an AA meeting in the back room or something!

Summertime at the lake. Crazy. People with boats tethered together, people on boats with a raft pulled behind, speed boats, pontoon boats...

This isn't even the most crowded part, because I was trying to get all the RVs.

This is the town of my paternal grandmother. We visited a lot when I was a kid. I was delighted to see that the same old death-traps toys are still in the park:

The rolling barrel o' joy.
Or, for those of us with big brothers:
The rolling barrel o' terror.

...and isn't it amazing that we ALL survived these?

The reunion itself was fun. As of course they always are. I won't share pictures of all the family, though. You're welcome!

Sunday we headed back across the state to my Mom's brother's house. When we stopped for lunch, guess whose table number was the Ultimate Answer!!!

(My parents did not understand why this was photo-worthy.)

More proof of Iowa's non-flatness.

For breakfast the next day we stopped at a good old fashioned Iowa local restaurant. Check out this cinnamon bun!

Dudes! It's as tall as a juice glass! That's 3 meals right there.

The Mighty Mississippi. It's really big, dudes. And I'm not even crossing it at a notably wide spot!

Well that's it, really. Not really, really, because all the stuff that you'd have to be family to appreciate isn't here, and that was the whole purpose of the trip. My dad was the youngest of 6. Of the 6 kids, 4 had 5 kids, and 2 had 3. PLUS any living siblings of my dad's dad, and their kids/grandkids come, too. (My dad's dad was the oldest of 6.)

That's a LOT of people. Of all ages. Actually, there are only two from my generation (and my grandpa's branch) that are younger than me: my brother and one cousin. I have cousins who have kids that are nearer my age than my cousins. Heck, I have cousins who are grandparents! So it's kind of weird, still being the young one. But it was fun. And I decided that if our generation is going to continue this, we need to start wearing name-tags. And family tree-tags.

Extra Special Bonus...JUST for playing along and actually reading this lengthy post all the way to the bottom, I've decided to include an actual, CURRENT picture of me:

My Eye.

True, dudes. It was a lot of driving, and somewhere in between reading and napping, I got bored and took an extreme close-up of myself. You're welcome.

And FINALLY finally,
In today's Something to Celebrate:
On this date in 1942, Anne Frank was given a diary for her 13th birthday. It gives you chills, doesn't it?