Yesterday, my grandpop celebrated his 90th birthday. That's impressive under any circumstances, but when you consider that he survived World War II and the Battle of the Bulge, it becomes pretty incredible. I wish I could tell you how many grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren there are now, but honestly, I've lost count. (Any relatives reading this that can supply those numbers?)
On Saturday night, much of the family gathered at my parents' house for cake and ice cream for Grandpop. Four generations were well-represented, and it took two cakes and a couple gallons of homemade ice cream to feed us all.
We didn't try for 90 candles.
Nobody had to choose between chocolate and carrot cake; most of us had a small slice of each!
Susan on ice cream duty.
Bert approves of everything. Especially seconds.
Hugs all around.
It was a really nice evening, and I can't think of a better reason to gather or a greater person to celebrate.