Amster's House

Amster makes a house a home.

Her door is always open, albeit sometimes blockaded by a fort or a hobbit hole.

If there's a way to bring all the pieces of her life together at one time, she makes it happen.

Sunday, she brought Ben's Bells to the Foothills.

 It was an eclectic crowd.

Miss Texas had her mom and her friends, Mr. 7 had his BFF,  Elizibeth wondered where her Princess might be, and I caught up with Amster's old neighbors.

G'ma and I stopped at Subway, so we didn't need the pizza or dip or chips.
Nothing gets between my mother and a cookie, though, and she was delighted to "wash it down with a Sprite, thank you.".
In the moment, when dealing with conventions, my mom is present. She's snarky and engaged and I remember why I wanted her to come to live here in the first place.
Amster's house has that effect on people.
Look at all those smiles.

.Everyone was involved in every conversation, in every creation, in every request.
When a plaintive "But, MOM, I really want...."

was met by my Mick Jagger imitation,
Miss Texas and Mr. 7 chimed right in.
"You can't always get what you wa-ant.." never sounded sweeter.
There wasn't an ounce of hostility; there were smiles and gentle nods and the work went on.

With mom by her side,

 with sisterly supervision,

 but most of all,

 with concentration.

There were tools to be used,

but mostly, there were fingers.

Every few minutes, G'ma would wonder aloud, while laughing at herself.
"What am I doing?"
After the second time, the kids took over the replies.
"We're making beads." 
"I am?"
"You are."

She was.

Over and over again is a lot easier when there are others to share the pain laughter.

After two hours, we were done.
The trays were full of our creations

waiting to dry.

Surrounded by family and friends on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
I wish you could have joined us, denizens.
As Amster says, the more, the merrier.