Attack of the Hot Tomatoes

Hoo-rah weekend, we had the McKennas of SF here, hot times, literally. The Drake headquarters working overtime to keep the small people entertained, wet and well fed.

These two rock the party that rocks the body. I see poppas in those countenances:


I took shit for pictures, but here's Tiny on a bass, Ladybird Lake, dawn patrol, 10AM.


Cocktails at the San J - R&R in tow, pebble sorting.



Mind that shoulder sister.


Partially torn hip flexor. That is a party, truss me. This got grosser, now less gross.


Lockhart, Part II.


Our new joint, I think.


Whip In, post weather spectacular.




Closest thing I got to a group phone, let's hope Tiny comes through. Kids, get back soon. xxxxx

Recent hijinks, getting rocked at Doc's.



Removal of the near beard.



The daughter can eat some melon.



One of these slugs is a new father. I met Beaver this night, before the closepins made an appearance.