Yesterday we went to visit my Nana Haldaman, my dad's mom, who turned 82. Boy, howdy. Eighty-two years old and still going strong, even with 13 kids, 30-something grandchildren, and about a dozen great-grandchildren. She still crochets afghans and goes to doo-wop shows at the Legion. I get exhausted after walking to the kitchen for a cookie. So good on her. Happy birthday, "Nannie Hallman"!
(Oh, and by the way: These are not up to my usual standards because they're iPhone pictures. Deal. I wasn't lugging that giant-ass camera out just to take pictures of the back of my grandmother's head. You want those shots, you call TMZ, you vultures.)
We stopped in to visit my mother-in-law for a little bit, and then it was off to my other grandparents' for dinner and college football (not necessarily in that order). And since tomorrow is my godfather Uncle Quack's birthday, we had some donuts in his honor and lit some candles and sang.
Then came the very best part: the ritual demolishing of the chocolate-frosted birthday donut. Happy birthday, everyone!