your old man and my old man should get together and go bowling

Ye Olde Blogger tells me that this is post #777 for me. How lucky. And by lucky I mean that I was born on the seventh day (not of the seventh month) in seventy-seven. And that seventy-seven was my bus number from Kindergarten through Fifth Grade.

And that is where that ends.

In other news, today is my Dad's birthday! He is 37. (No he's not.) For his birthday, YOU get the gift of looking at some pictures, all of which I abducted from various Facebook pages.

My dad is the oldest sibling in his family.
He was born in Massachusetts
and grew up in Maine and in Eastern New York.

My dad liked to dress like he was one of the Little Rascals.

In the middle of this collage.
You may recognize that face from such places as my son.

Here he is with his siblings and parents
at one of his sister's weddings.
(That apostrophe is in the correct place.)
He is standing behind his mom,
my beautiful grandma, who is wearing the blue dress.

Here he is in a teeny tiny picture of my dad
at a diner with my brother and my other brother.

My dad, my brother, my cousin.
Related much?

My dad laughing with his brothers,
as only siblings can do with each other.
This was last June at my cousin Meg's wedding.

My dad and his siblings:
Kuna, Mark Twain, Jay,
Mintz, Minnie, My Dad.
(Dear Jay - you need a nickname.)

My brother, my dad, myself, my seester (my 30th).

Happy birthday, Old Man.