Let me begin by saying, we are a typical American family.
My mother is German and Scottish.
My father is Mohawk.
My husband's father was Spanish with a generational layover in Puerto Rico,
and his mother was every European nationality imaginable rolled up in a hippy shell.
My children were joking about filling out their racial profile
on forms by checking off "other."
We can attend just about any ethnic festival we want
and hold our heads high.
But quite frankly, I'm not passing up on African, Hatian, Jamaican, or Cuban
events either, and Greek and Middle Eastern celebrations are a must-go.
Did I forget to mention we love Asian culture?
We're Buddhist after all.
Let's face it, if you throw the festival, open the restaurant, cultivate the garden,
or stock the shop, we're there.
Just your typical American family.
So suit up, People.
We have some strange things to share today.
And this is merely the beginning.
(By the way, I'm sure you've noticed, we finally have a new header!
It was like herding cats, I swear,
and I do know a thing or two about herding cats.)
First, we set up a nursery for some new baby fish.
Because fish parents have a tendency of serving up their offspring as hors d'oeuvres.
It's near the parent tank so they can visit.
We just thought you'd enjoy some baby pictures.
Now onto a festival!
For dinner, it was Oktoberfest!
Had to bring the half-German.
I'd like to thank my Scottish genes for my red hair,
my Native American genes for my tan,
and the Dollar Tree for my bat.
Our local German-American Club throws a party complete with
food, dancing, and live music.
Grab your chicken hats!
If you're omnivorous, dinner is an easy plate of bratwurst, sauerkraut,
rye bread, and potato salad with pork.
If you're a vegetarian....
Hey, Vannah, how's that potato pancake platter and applesauce?
Like to fit in?
Buy yourself some lederhosen!
Who DOESN'T like leather shorts???
Add traditional headwear to the mix.
I could do some flowers in the copper mess on my head.
For the less adventurous, our sales Fraulein recommended
a dirndl T-shirt.
My mother commanded big bucks to model clothing back in the 50's.
Seriously, she's still working it with humor.
Just go apron.
Dessert cannot be missed.
The Bavarians know their way around a sugar bowl.
We even took strudel home to the boys, who were wallowing regretfully in essays for school.
Yes, on a Saturday night.
Full scholarships take commitment.
The band started, thrilling an enthusiastic crowd.
These girls spun for about 10 minutes straight.
You could have isolated DNA with that kind of centrifugal force.
Vannah was easily impressed.
Herr Gewurztraminer announced each display of professional shoe slapping precision.
Okay, German boys in leather shorts with whips...
WHAT KIND OF CLUB IS THIS AGAIN???
I will not repeat the jokes flying around my table.
Suffice it to say we are not well people.
If you're going to wear a chicken hat,
dang it, you're going to Chicken Dance!
Baby's First Chicken Dance...
not the usual photo album addition.
Dramamine. It's not just for breakfast anymore.
You just haven't lived until you've danced in leather lederhosen to an oompa band playing
The Electric Slide.
We now return you to our regularly scheduled What's Blooming?,
already in progress.
Thank you for joining us.