Growing up, we spent our yearly, sometimes twice yearly, trips to Livermore at our Aunt Elsie's house. Elsie was our grandmother's sister. Though Elsie was the younger of the sisters, (there was also two brothers), she was still the matriarch of the family. Elsie didn't have any children, and our mom was her favorite. By extension my sister and I were probably Elsie's favorite out of all the nieces and nephews. There was twelve of us altogether. All of our cousins were local. One set of cousins lived down the street. The other lived in Owensboro.
But my sister and I were the grand ones who came out from New York at Christmas. I recently learned from a cousin that Elsie used to tell them to stay away when we were in town, since we only got her a couple of times a year. We played with our cousins some when we were kids, but I didn't really get to know most of those cousins till Elsie was on her death bed and we gathered at her house for a few weeks, waiting. That was almost 20 years ago now....in 2003.
Things I'd like to say in earnest: I said you, Liberty. You pick it up.
Alright...another decent day reading through World War 1990: The Final Storm. These strike prep scenes, a lot of fly boys going over plans, looking under wings, kicking airplane tires, etc, are looking pretty good. Not perfect by any means. But pretty good. Fixing this chapter will be our TFS project for the week.
Aaaaaand we may have done the last thing we can do to The New American Order. I dunno.
We still have no idea how to kick of World War 1990: Norway.
Commercial Break. Club Med, 1985. We remember this ad well:
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