This picture was taken seconds before baby Jane came down with every skin affliction in the book, literally. Like Dad, she's got the demon dermis.Went a whole week with no GP air cover, almost killed us. Thankfully, the moms is back at 88 India, and we're crying less (me and Beav).
Diaper blow-out kit is fully operational, and we're experimenting with "outfits".
This face means we've got a situation in the situation hatch:
And this one is the chief negotiator. Suspicious halo like activity near the dome end.
Upstairs neighbor has the sicko roof, and invited up the clan for fireworks. Jane bug took a pass and milk faced the whole show.
Cops led this guy off the premises, pink umbrella code five violation:
The James made the party, with primo Baptist pound cake. Genius.
Mom and dad, in ferry gear. Dad hooked up with a 13" brown trout on the Beaverkill, that's 12" more fish than I've fly caught.
Evidence that the feeding schedule is producing for us:
Bath #2 result, the prizefighter.
And an epic end to an epic weekend. Charlie, with our little chocolate factory, in the experimental new French basket hold. An act of god delivered Mr. Keeler to 88 India. The band is practically back together already.
Mom's got dinner going, possible evening entertainment includes a Monte Hellman double feature, followed by a game of toss / hide the midget.
Video update - potentially - in the mix. We have the technology, lack the directions.
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