It was a season of birthdays for us this winter. In March we traveled up to Yakima to celebrate the 90th birthday of Brian's grandmother, Peggy (or Granny-Gram, as she is known to the immediate family, a tradition that sounded like stuttering to me -- I'm used to it now). Above are assorted members of the Brumbaugh branch of the family tree, pretty much everyone made it, which was really cool. Please God, let me be as healthy, alert and good-natured as Granny Gram when I turn 90. 
Brian turned 40 this year and said what he wanted most of all was to spend time with family and friends. Knowing our house was too small and the other side of the mountains was more central to everyone, I rented a huge house at the beach for three days and we had an open house party, with more than 25 staying the whole weekend. The event was notable for: mild weather, incredibly bad directions given by yours truly to pretty much everyone, an introduction to blues dancing, the ache in calves you get with three stories and way too much to do, one design and one veterinary student who managed to do homework among all the chaos, a constantly full coffee pot, and most of all wonderful loved ones who showed up to do tribute to Brian.
