Journal: Family Get-Together

 

Last Monday, Levi wrote to tell me, regarding his oldest brother, “Aaron has slabs of meat so big that they were mooing as he wrestled them into the freezer.”

It’s a pretty good bet he got the meat from his other grandpa, who works at a meat packing plant.  That particular grandpa gave us a very big chunk of roast as a Christmas gift, as he often does.  Larry cut it up, divided the pieces into freezer bags, and put them in the freezer.

Tuesday morning, shortly after filling the bird feeders, I spotted a squirrel at the feeders.  Feeling particularly Scroogish at the moment, having noticed that one bag of bird seed was nearly gone, I dashed out the patio door onto the deck, upon which the squirrel went flying lickety-split along the railing, down it alongside the steps, and out across the lawn, where he then leaped onto Larry’s riding lawn mower.  Perching on the seat, he then turned and looked back to see if I was coming after him.

Do you think he thought he could start up the mower and make a quick get-away??

That afternoon, I began backing up data from laptop to external hard drives – all three of them at once, as I generally do.  But then I tried moving too many things at the same time, and the poor laptop crashed.  It’s a big, fast, gaming computer, and hardly ever does that.  Of course, there was no way of knowing just where it was in all of the various processes; so I had to start over.  I was only moving three terabytes of stuff all at once, after all.  What could possibly go wrong?

At least I could still do other things while the machine was working, such as write emails and make posts on my Quilt Talk group.  I did so until everything slowed to a crawl and then came to a momentary standstill, and I had second thoughts.  I did not want to start all over again.

Instead, I washed the dishes.

By 5:01 p.m., my backup endeavors were at 24%, 9%, 0%, and 0% (those last two were really humongous files, and I could see them working away; there’s a ‘discover’ process that must take place first).  But the dishes were washed!

As soon as the data – or most of it, at least – was all backed up, I decided to be brave and risk retrieving photos from the largest of the drives, putting them into a folder on that same drive to then load onto an SD card for the digital frame I set up for Loren, which I will now set up for my sister.  I have thousands of pictures of her family, and will put those on the frame.  It’s supposed to be able to use SD cards up to 30 GB, but it can’t handle more than 84 photos per folder – and it can handle only 150 folders; so I’ll have to divide the pictures up.  Oh, and I’ll have to compress them, too; it won’t work if the pictures are much larger than 300 KB or so.  And yes, it’s a Chinese knockoff.  Ugh.

I was hunting for these photos on the same hard drive that was still working, since with two more large files done, it wasn’t working as hard as it yoosta done been.  If it crashes, it crashes.  ‘If I perish, I perish!’ 

The smallest of the three external hard drives is now plumb full.  I’ll label it with the date of last upload (or is it a download? – depends on whether it’s at a higher or lower altitude than the machine from which it is receiving data, right?) and retire it to a safe location. 

Wednesday, we had our Christmas dinner at church.

A dozen or so of those who play brass instruments played, along with piano and organ, and we sang three or four Christmas songs right there in the Fellowship Hall before the servers (young people from about age 13-20-something) brought out the food.  It was so funny to watch the expressions on the toddlers’ faces.

We were right across the table from a family with four children, including two-year-old Lillianna.  She was gazing from one end of the long table to the other, smiling, anticipating the yummy food – and then the music began, and, after a short prelude, we all started singing.  She stared, and turned her head slowly from one side of that big room full of people to the other.  She was clearly thinking, What on earth?! This is the room for eating, not singing!  But by the 3^rd or 4^th song, she’d joined in the singing, humming along, and managing to hit most of the notes right on tune.

I had a clear shot of little Arnold, who’s 10 months old now (and walking!), several tables away on Victoria’s lap.  When the horns started playing, his eyes grew big and round.  Then we started singing, and his mouth opened in a perfect O! of surprise.  He turned and looked at his daddy, Kurt; discovered he was singing, too, and beamed happily at him.  Kurt, of course, beamed right back at his adorable and funny baby boy.  Oohh, I needed a video of that!

Babies learn so quickly what we do and where we do it, and they notice the slightest variations!

The menu was as follows:  roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, carrots, sweet potatoes, green beans with bacon, onions, lettuce salad, jello salad, buttered Italian bread fresh out of the oven (and jelly was on the table), pickles, olives, coffee or tea, milk, apple or berry juice, ice cream, and a list of all kinds of pies and cheesecakes (pecan, cherry, apple, etc.).

The young people started bringing out the food.  Lillianna’s baby sister, Genevieve, sitting on her mother Alicia’s lap, looked at the food passing by on large platters and in big bowls, and fussed.  Alicia smoothly pulled off one of Genevieve’s bright red, sparkly, vinyl shoes and handed it to her.  Genevieve happily chewed on it.

“It sure is a good thing babies come equipped with Fisher Price toys on their feet!” I told Alicia.  😆

Later, when we got home, I went on searching for photos for the frame for my sister.  And whataya know, I found a picture of Alicia herself, when she was just six years old, at our Fourth-of-July picnic in 2006, holding the baby doll she’d brought with her.  Alicia is a good friend of Victoria’s.

As I worked my way through photos, I came upon this one of Victoria at Easter time. 

“Remember this?” I asked, sending her a copy.

“Yes, I do!” she responded.  “Where’d that outfit go, I wonder?”

“I don’t know,” I answered.  “Probably to one of the younger girls to whom we gave your things when you grew out of them.”

“I haven’t seen anyone wearing it that I can think of 🤔 ,” she said.  “Maybe it got retired somewhere down the line.”

“Maybe someone thought it was an old-fashioned bathing suit,” I suggested.  😅

Here’s a 31-year-old Christmas story from our house:

At Christmas time in 1993, I got our little manger scene off the shelf where I had stored it.  My late sister-in-law had given it to us the first Christmas we were married, and I treasured it.  The children helped to carefully unwrap the ceramic pieces from the cloths in which I had enveloped them.  They duly admired the pieces, from the majestic kings on their camels to the little lamb that Hester, age 4, placed beside the smallest shepherd boy so it didn’t get ‘losted’.

But the children’s favorite was Baby Jesus.

There was a pause as Teddy, age 10, pulled it from its cloth and they all looked at the Baby’s beautiful face.  The artist who had created the little set had truly done a wonderful job, especially on little Jesus.

Once the figurines were removed from the box, the stable, in which they’d been nestled, could be lifted out and set up.  Keith, the oldest at 13, set it on one of the end tables, and then the children turned to retrieve the small statues from the table upon which they’d laid them.

Hannah, who was 12, put Mary and Joseph against the middle back of the little structure, and Teddy arranged the Wise Men on the right side of it.

“I thought we usually put the shepherds on that side,” objected Dorcas, 11, poised to do so with the three in her hands.

Teddy adjusted one just so and then turned to look at his sister.  “They have to come from the east,” he informed her, and indeed they were coming from the east. 

(Aside to the reader: did you know that the Wise Men didn’t come to see Baby Jesus until He was two years old, and living in Bethlehem in a house with His parents?  Nevertheless, we put the Wise Men in the stable.  One more point:  the word ‘stable’ is not in the Bible’s Christmas story.  It was more like a shallow cave, of sorts.  But let us continue.)

Dorcas gave it a moment’s thought and then nodded seriously.  The shepherds went on the left, and Hester scurried to put the lamb with his master, “before he gets scared and baa-aa-aa-aas,” she said, sounding quite like a little lamb herself.

Joseph, age 8, set the donkey, the cow, and the sheep in their places, and then it was time for the Most Important Piece of all:  Baby Jesus.

Hannah reached for it.

It wasn’t there.

The table was empty; nothing was on it at all.

“Where’s Baby Jesus?” asked Hannah.

Hester turned and looked at the table.  Then, all in an alarmed panic, “Baby Jesus is losted!!!” she howled.

“But we just had it,” breathed Dorcas in distressed horror.

Someone has simply misplaced it, I thought, and looked quickly around the room.

There was Lydia, just 2 ½, sitting in her favorite little wooden chair, the tiny figurine cradled in the crook of one arm while her other hand was wrapped protectively around it.  She was rocking gently back and forth, and we had stopped talking suddenly enough that we all heard her singing sweetly, “ ♫ ♪ Little Baby in the manger, ♪ ♫  I love you! ♫ ♪ “

Then, realizing everything had gotten very quiet, her head popped up, a questioning look on her face.  Her eyes fell on the stable, and then it dawned on her:  Baby Jesus was the only figure missing.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet, “Here He is, I has Him!”

As we had done for many years, we allowed the youngest able child to place the Baby in the stable.  That was Lydia, since Caleb was only 2 months old.  Her eyes shone with delight as she carefully laid manger and Baby directly in front of Mary and Joseph in the spot saved for Him.

I went to the piano, everyone gathered ’round, and we sang a few Christmas songs.

I hunted down pictures until 10:00 p.m., making it to the folder of pictures from 2014.  I was going through my digital pictures first, and would save the earlier scanned photos for last.  I am often very glad I spent all that time scanning those old photos.  As soon as I finish the grandchildren’s quilts, I’ll scan the albums in that big bin I found in one of the cubbyholes.

It was another foggy day Thursday, and dense fog was stretching all the way over to Davenport, Iowa, and beyond, where Larry had gone to pick up a scissor lift he’d bought.  (We may need to arrange an intervention for that man one of these days.)

I continued working on photos for the digital picture frame.

Later that afternoon, feeling the need for a snack, I fished two small Tootsie Rolls and two suckers from the treats bag I’d gotten at church the previous Sunday night.  That’s all it took, and I immediately had sores in my mouth – and was still feeling a bit peckish besides (yeah, I’ve been watching Brits revamp French chateaus on YouTube, and before I know it, I’m talking the lingo).  I peered into the somewhat empty refrigerator – and there it was! – a small jug of eggnog, still a quarter full!  Yaaaay, I was saved.

By 6:00 p.m., I’d collected 2,824 photos – and I was only up to the year 2016.

I’m enjoying looking at old pictures again.  I like this photo of Hester and me in 1990, when Hester was getting close to a year old.  Too bad it looks like I’m wearing a striped prison jumpsuit.

Larry got home a little before 11:00 p.m., tired from driving in fog and rain all the way, both coming and going.

Victoria sent a picture of her Yuki kitty sleeping in their living room, which Victoria was sprucing up and rearranging in preparation for our family get-together.

About the time she sent it, I had come upon this shot (below) of Teensy lying on the floor in my sewing room, fully trusting that I would not step on him as I walked back and forth doing this and that.

I miss him, despite, or maybe because of, the fact that he always wanted to be right in the middle of whatever I was doing.

Remember the kitten Kurt found at a jobsite?  The one he brought home, and Victoria fed it kitten formula from a tiny bottle?  It is now hale and hearty, and resides at Andrew and Hester’s house.  They named her ‘Bumble’, from the Poky Puppies story, where the puppies roll tumble-bumble down the hill.  She’s going to be quite striking, with those stripes.  She almost looks Bengal, doesn’t she?

I saw a stupid video one night of people trying to make a singing Santa work, and they finally activated something that made him suddenly stand up straight and tall – his legs had been inside his rotund body until then – and then, shortly before he started jigging and singing, his head fell off.

So, wouldn’t you know, I dreamed that a real-life person’s head fell off, and we were trying our best to put it back on, but couldn’t, because he kept jigging and singing and wouldn’t hold still.  My dreams are so absurd, they surely must drain brain cells, right along.

A whole lot of the people on the Rural Radio are suffering from bad head colds and the accompanying laryngitis.  Do you think some evil Christmas imp came in each night for the last couple of weeks and traded their mics around, so they’d share their germs with each other?  Strangely, though, at least two of their correspondents with whom they only connect digitally or by phone are also trying to talk with plugged proboscises.  How’d the locals share their germs with them, I wonder? 

Them thar Christmas imps are devilish.

Friday, I went on plowing my way through photos.  This is taking some time.  I’ve taken a few pictures, ya know?!!!!  🫤🫨🤭

That morning, yet another radio announcer had gone down – this time, the regular weatherman from Weatherology.  A weatherwoman who sometimes substitutes had taken his place.  This one likes to give funny descriptions for various weather patterns.  She explained the foggy weather we’ve been having for days on end thusly:  “This weather system is moving over us like a turtle stampeding through peanut butter – and it’s going to keep that up for a while, before it moves away!”

Victoria printed several pages to make a little booklet of Christmas songs that we could sing together at our family gathering.  She sent a picture of them, along with some pictures of her pretty house, saying, “I don’t have them fastened together because I don’t have a stapler, and I don’t really relish the idea of hand-sewing 30 buttonholes, which is how I normally secure pamphlets I print when I do them for crocheting patterns.”

I’d been wanting to get her some useful little gift as a thank-you for having our family gathering at her house.  I thought a long-handled stapler would be just the ticket.

“I’m having a long-handled stapler delivered to your house via Amazon prime supposedly in two days,” I texted her.  “I was imagining all those pages squirting loose from everyone’s hands, and drifting like confetti all over the place.  Just a small tidbit for hosting the party.”

It was Warren’s 10^th birthday that day.  I took him a Foldology booklet and a Kanoodle game.

For supper that night, I cooked a big chunk of the roast our friend gave us in the Instant Pot.  Uh, that is, our friend didn’t give it to us in the Instant Pot; I cooked it in the Instant Pot.  English, tsk.  We had broccoli and cauliflower with it. 

After searching for photos for several hours, I took a short break to watch some animal videos on YouTube.  Have you ever seen a fox leaping high and then coming down nose first right into deep snow, and coming up a mouse or a vole?  So funny to watch.  

Under this video of a fox in a quest for lunch taking high-flying, headfirst leaps in the snow, someone commented, “Cat software on dog hardware.”

Break over, I continued looking for pictures.  Below is my brother Loren, brother G.W., sister Lura Kay, and mother Hester Swiney in 1945.  They lived in Miniere, Illinois.  This was right about the time my father was called into the Navy during WWII.

Here is Lura Kay when she was about 4 years old.

Saturday morning, I opened a new bag of Christopher Bean coffee beans, this one called ‘Winter Wonderland’, with flavors of vanilla, coconut, roasted hazelnut, white chocolate, and caramel.  

I received notice that the mugs I’d ordered for the grandchildren on November 16 were scheduled to arrive Tuesday.  That would be the day after our family get-together.  Furthermore, I had learned from reviews posted during this last month that these will be no better than the ridiculous mugs I wound up with a few weeks ago, so I would doubtless be sending these latest mugs straight back.  The first three were purchased through Ali-Express.  These others were through Amazon.

I considered making a trip to town to try to find a bunch of mugs, but that wouldn’t have been a very enjoyable expedition, what with my eyes misbehaving as they were.  Instead, I rummaged through my cupboard and pulled out enough cute cups and mugs for all I had intended to give them to.  As a bonus, my cupboard isn’t as full now.  I washed them all, then carried them downstairs to wrap with packets of Swiss hot chocolate mix with miniature marshmallows.

I was running out of cute mugs, needing a couple more – and then I remembered that I had two slender mugs from Holland in a box downstairs – and a little miniature ‘apron’ with a pocket containing six embroidered coasters, with ‘Hungary’ embroidered on the front of the pocket.  I wrapped those for Carolyn and Violet.

The Jackson Stables mug went to Josiah, along with a note telling him that his Great-Aunt Lynn had drawn the picture of the horses.

Levi got the Thomas Kinkade Christmas mug, and Lyle and Jeffrey got the Mount Rushmore mugs.  I’ll spare you the rest of the list.  😉

I tucked a few fluffy pink loofah scrubbies and some bars of Caress soap in White Peach & Orange Blossom scent into bags for the ladies and called it done, except for getting 2-lb. blocks of cheese for each of the families.  We would do that Sunday night after church when we got the fruit I planned to take to our get-together.

Larry had to go get some parts in town that evening, and while he was there, he picked up some Mexican food for us.  He got me an enchilada dinner.  Mmmm... that’s one of my favorites.  Good thing the food comes in Styrofoam containers, though, as there was waaaay too much for me.  I could only eat about two-thirds of it.

Larry got me a pumpkin shake, too.  I sloooowly nibbled at it.  I was full!  But storing soft-serve shakes in the freezer kind of ruins them; milk shakes and Blizzards are never nice and smooth again after they are frozen.  So I valiantly kept nibbling, glad it was a small one.

I wasn’t feeling so great.  My ears and throat hurt, and my back, too, from leaning over wrapping boxes for about four hours.  But the gift-wrapping room was all tidied up again; that’s always a good feeling.

The stapler arrived at Victoria’s door as promised, and she got the song sheets stapled together.

My Predator Helios laptop was down to just a few spare gigabytes, so I deleted a bunch of stuff that I’d backed up on external hard drives anyway.  I now have 200 free gigabytes (of a 1 TB drive).  I need to do this with the MSI laptop, too, and clean up a bit of jetsam and flotsam on the external hard drives.

We picked up a grocery order at Walmart after church last night:  two bags of Clementines, two big bags of Fuji apples, four pounds of strawberries, four bananas, and six 2-pound blocks of Mozzarella cheese.  Supposedly.

They gave me the ripest bananas in the store, I think.  Those things weren’t even nice enough to make banana bread out of.   They might be good enough to make a poultice for a sick gorilla.  Maybe.  Know any sick gorillas?

Bah, humbug.  I’d been looking forward to one of those bananas!

I began putting things into the refrigerator – and discovered that they’d only given me five blocks of cheese, though they charged me for six.  The cheeses were to be gifts for the kids and their families.

I pulled up Walmart’s refund page online, placed my complaint, and was immediately issued a refund:  $.68 for the ugly, squishy bananas, and $8.24 for the missing cheese.

“You are not required to return said product,” I was informed, concerning the cheese.

Really.  How would one go about returning a missing block of cheese, should one be so required?  Maybe pantomime handing over a big block of cheese?  An air cheese block.  Using both hands, of course, because it’s heavy.  That should work.

Victoria sent a text to our family group:  “Does everyone like Half ’n Half and maple syrup for coffee, or do you prefer flavored liquid creamers?”

One preferred maple syrup; I preferred liquid creamer.  “But I know they’re kinda pricey,” I said.  “I just like coffee black, too.”

Hester offered, “I have an oatmilk creamer and a caramel creamer I’d be glad to bring if you want.”

Not to be outdone, I added, “I might still have some peppermint creamer in my refrigerator.”  Pause.  Then, “From last Christmas.”

“Uhhhhh...” said Victoria.  “Willie would say, ‘Widdie NOT creamer.’”  hee hee

In my search through my folders of photos, I found this picture of myself in the red polka dot dress my sister-in-law Janice made for me – and the matching red polka dot scarf Loren helped me make with the Singer sewing machine he brought home for me when I was about 8.  He was 30, and selling sewing machines.

He helped me make that lined triangular-shaped scarf with grosgrain ribbon ties, showing me how to sew it right side to right side, leaving a hole to turn it, hand-stitching it shut, then making a little loop with the ribbons to hide the cut edge and sewing them onto the corners.

And with that one little project, I was off and running.

In that picture, I am at the park in Ft. Morgan, Colorado.  Mama always made sure to have some old bread on hand if she knew we’d be passing by this park, because I loved to feed the ducks, geese, and swans.

Here’s Victoria in that same red polka dot scarf.  When she wasn’t wearing it, she had it tied on the head of one of her favorite teddy bears.

And here she is as a teenager, feeding ducks and geese in the Ft. Morgan park.

Late this morning, a light drizzle had begun.  This became a heavier drizzle, and the weatherman said it would increase to rain and then eventually turn to snow as the afternoon went on.  He predicted it would be quite slick.  It was 36° right then.

Our family get-together would be this evening, and I decided it would be best to haul the gifts out to the Mercedes sooner, rather than later.

My hair was still damp; I didn’t want to dry and curl it until everything was in the car.  

The first order of business was to put gifts in big garbage bags to protect them from the rain.  Then I lugged everything upstairs from my basement gift-wrapping room, which took multiple trips.  By this time, I was piping hot, so I carried the first two big bags out to the Mercedes sans coat or hat.

That changed my tune.  I scampered back into the house, quite a lot damper than I’d been before I went outside, and rummaged up a down-filled raincoat in the closet in the laundry room.

I’d forgotten what a nice coat this is!  It’s been a long time since I’ve worn it.  It’s too big for me, really; but it’s soft and warm, and quite pretty in two tones of teal.  ‘They’ (whoever ‘they’ are) say to get rid of things if you haven’t used them for six months.  I’m sure glad I don’t listen to ‘them’!

I pulled on a navy crocheted tam that Joanna made for me, and went back to carrying things out.  Crocheted tams are not waterproof, but the hat was thick enough that it would be a while before it got soaked, and it would certainly keep my head warm in the meantime. 

Eventually the car was all loaded with the gifts and the disposable plates, bowls, utensils, and plastic glasses.  I had ordered plastic bowls; Walmart substituted paper.  I would just tell everyone to eat whatever they put in their bowl lickety-split, before it soaked through.  😅

Feeling quite a lot like a wet noodle, I hung the coat to dry, started a fresh pot of coffee, turned on my curling iron, and blow-dried some shape back into my hat-smashed hair.

There was a thump at the door.  I went to see if the presents were trying to get back in.

There was a delivery truck out on the lane – and a couple of boxes stacked atop the bin in which packages are supposed to go during inclement weather.  Delivery men have evidently not been taught how to open lids on package bins.

One package was my replacement PurSteam iron.  That was fast!  They’re a good company to deal with.  I really liked that iron; I was sorry when something went wrong with it.  And now I have two working irons and one partially-working iron.  I still need Larry to take apart my steam station so I can soak certain parts in CLR; I can’t get the screws out, myself.  Guess I’ll have to squeak a little louder about that, if I want any action.  😉

The second package?  Why, it contained the ten ‘mineral crystal’ mugs I ordered in mid-November!  They were supposed to be gifts for the grandchildren.  Annnnd... Yep, they are just as awful and absurd as expected.  

Those ‘mineral crystal mugs’ are part of a scam.  Here’s what they’re supposed to look like:  

And here’s what they actually look like:

All the other versions are just as ridiculous – and what is supposed to be an 11-oz. cup is barely 5.5 oz.

They look like first-graders’ art projects run amok.  Too bad the multitudes of bad reviews didn’t show up until after I’d placed my order.  This is a fairly new scamming sham.  Shamming scam.  Something like that.

This order was through Amazon; so I should have no trouble getting a refund.  Whoever is perpetrating this fraud ought to be stopped and dealt with.  Reckon there’s any chance of that?

The more I look at these mugs, the more I can’t keep from laughing.  I really wonder, is there an actual mug like that first one pictured, anywhere in this wide world??  I sort of doubt it.  It’s most likely an AI-generated image.

I returned to resurrecting my smushed hairdo, with a curling iron this time, mug of Winter Wonderland coffee steaming nearby.

Once my silvery tresses (aka gray strands) were respectably coiffed, I ate a handful of nuts for a little boost of energy, then washed the strawberries and took off their tops, washed the apples, and peeled and sectioned a couple dozen Clementines, which I put into baggies.  At least I had this wonderful, fantastic (and vintage) Tupperware orange peeler, so I had those Clementines peeled in nothing flat.

I would wait and cut the apples when I got to Victoria’s house.  I had a friend who used to salt her apple slices to keep them from darkening.  They stayed white as new-fallen snow, yes; but after tasting one slice, we all steered clear of those things forever afterwards.  Lemon water is much better.  Eating them as soon as they are sliced is even better.

Larry picked up the missing block of cheese before coming home, which of course made us late.  As we walked into Kurt and Victoria’s house, I said to anybody close enough to hear, “We made sure you couldn’t eat without us, because we have all the plates and utensils!”

Teddy, with that characteristic half-grin of his, said with a small shrug, “We made do.”

hee hee

Maisie was delighted with her ‘You Are Loved’ quilt.  She kept laughing and patting on the baby animals in her quilt, especially the little lamb.  Maisie is Caleb and Maria’s little girl.  She’s 9 months old.

The other three quilts at the gathering tonight were for Warren, 10; Grant, 11; and Leroy, 13.  The boys are brothers, Teddy and Amy’s sons.  Grant found the label and read it carefully.  He seemed to like the label as well as or better than any other part of the quilt – though as he unfolded it and looked at different parts of it, he grinned and said, “Thank you, Grandma!” each time he found something new.  There really wasn’t room to open all the quilts all the way up right there, what with all the adults, kids, and babies in the room.  After they got home, Amy sent me a picture of Warren with the quilt spread out on his bed.

After the presents were doled out, we sang some Christmas songs, with Victoria playing the piano for most of them, though I managed to sneak onto the bench when she got up once to help baby Arnold with something.

Levi had brought his French horn, and he played along on some of the songs.  

Someone made a comment on the pretty, mellow tones of the French horn, and Levi answered, with a quick glance down at the horn, “Oh, this?  No, this is a trombone that someone tried to put into a box.”  

haha  That kid.  

Here we are, singing away – or at least here are some of those who were singing.  There were more people singing, out of the picture frame.  Here are Ethan, Jeffrey, Nathanael, Levi, Larry, Joanna, and Victoria. 

Very enjoyable, it was!

,,,>^..^<,,,          Sarah Lynn          ,,,>^..^<,,,