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Bunnie's Bash

We survived the dog show at Grandma's birthday party. The kids (well, the ones aged 12 and under) loved the scary clowns and dancing dogs.

My friend Laura was able to get out of Bat Boy's cave and came along, not only for the fun of it all but also to be our designated driver. She wasn't there ten minutes, watching the calvacade of cousins arrive (and be greeted by the scary clown), when she came up to me with cocktail in hand and said, "I'm relinquishing my driver duties." Yes, drinking was in order.

The few of us grandkids that "got away" were all back, and it didn't take long for us to realize we'd made the right decisions (both by getting out and coming back once every couple years to check in and confirm our choices).

It was the best of family reunions, all in a basement conference room of a Quality Inn in Norwood, Ohio. We immediately made friends with the wait staff, especially Shirley the bartender. She was fabulous.

Bottom line is that Grandma had a blast. She's survived much worse in the past 90 years than a show that couldn't make money in Branson, and while she may have been allergic to Bonzer, she sat in the front row, shed a few tears, and just glowed the whole night. Good on Grandma.

And a very happy 90th birthday.