Steve and I zipped over to see my sisters and dad in Phoenix. What fun we had. Cathy was painting my toesnails on the front steps when dad ran out and said "photo moment." Dad pretended to paint my toes for the photo op, too. Thus we all arranged ourselves and of course, laughed and giggled in our typical fashion.
This is Cathy, my #3 sister. I call her my bling, bling sister. She is our family glamour girl, and social hub. She calls everyone I think every week, and passes on pertinent information to the rest of the family so all stay in the loop.
This is Keni, #5, in her kitchen. She is in nursing school and will graduate in May. Horray for Keni! Go sister. In case you didn't notice, we identify ourselves by our chronilogical order number ( I am #4), except for Cindy. Once you meet her, you just know she is the eldest.
Here is some of Cathy's stuff. She packed her things in Vacuum bags and now that she is opening them and trying to find a place for them, they are everywhere. She called to tell us about the shelves and closet spaces they are designing. Poor dad, he has done that for everyone of his daughters. In my case, he once had to drive to MA, and another time he had to go to Guam.
When we were growing up, dad almost always made breakfast on Saturday mornings unless it was hunting season. Here he is in keeping with tradition. No one makes a better breakfast than dad. 
This is Cathy, my #3 sister. I call her my bling, bling sister. She is our family glamour girl, and social hub. She calls everyone I think every week, and passes on pertinent information to the rest of the family so all stay in the loop.
This is Keni, #5, in her kitchen. She is in nursing school and will graduate in May. Horray for Keni! Go sister. In case you didn't notice, we identify ourselves by our chronilogical order number ( I am #4), except for Cindy. Once you meet her, you just know she is the eldest.
Here is some of Cathy's stuff. She packed her things in Vacuum bags and now that she is opening them and trying to find a place for them, they are everywhere. She called to tell us about the shelves and closet spaces they are designing. Poor dad, he has done that for everyone of his daughters. In my case, he once had to drive to MA, and another time he had to go to Guam.
When we were growing up, dad almost always made breakfast on Saturday mornings unless it was hunting season. Here he is in keeping with tradition. No one makes a better breakfast than dad. 
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