Burning down the house

My baby girl, Julie, turned 31 last weekend.

We celebrated with a meal of pulled pork, oriental cole slaw, the best augratin potatoes ever, baked beans, and the worst red velvet cake ever (you win some, and lose some).  It took six matches to light the candles on that god-awful cake.  The candles lit up the room like fireworks on the 4th of July (kiind of like her smile) and we were praying the smoke alarms wouldn't go off.  She almost blew all those candles out in one puff (or four or five...)




Burning Down the House


Julie was our rough and tumble little girl.  She really had no choice, since she had an older brother and sister who never slowed down... she just had to figure out how to keep up!  It seemed like if something was going to happen, it was going to happen to Julie.  Like the time she almost caught the house on fire when she laid her coat and hat on top of a lit kerosine heater.  I believe she was only 3 at the time.  I still remember that charred coat laying in the middle of the driveway, where it landed when we threw it out the window. 


Cowgirl Julie

And then, of course, there is the matter of Julie's hair.  Oh what a rats nest it always was!  But she didn't care.  She was off and running each morning and heaven help the person who tried to slow her down by performing the useless task of combing the tangles out of her hair.

Six year old Fishergirl



Today our dear Julie's a wife and mother of three, stepmother of one.  It is no surprise that while surrounded by all of that testosterone, she rolls with the punches, and joins in all of the outdoor activities with zesto.

Outdoors-woman

So, happy birthday Julie!  You will always be my baby...





Christmas 1980