Big D's 60th

Birthdays are like hangovers; you love the buzz, but then you wake up feeling like sun-hardened crap. Luckily, with all of the family in Lakeview this weekend, we hoped to give Darrel Denbrook a little more buzz, and a little less sun-hardened crap. 60 years, and 60 beers later, we have officially celebrated that oh-so sacred birthday for mi padre, Darrel. In a rare convergence of Erika, myself, Jill, Michael, Sara, Mom, Dad, Cam, and Karen in Lakeview, we partied for the better part of a weekend. Here are some of the highs, lows, and everything in between.


Can you believe such a young looking lad turned 60 this past weekend?


The pool was officially open for its annual 2 month stint. Owning a pool in Lakeview is about as efficient as slicing an apple with your finger, but my parents always have their pool blue and swimmable when we arrive in later summer. We spent about 4-5 hours a day in the pool, surfing on foam floaties and tapping a "Bratz" beach volleyball that my mother must have stolen from one of her former students.


Sculpted from butter...I mean marble.


We began a game (called "the game") which required four of us to keep the beach volleyball from hitting the water surface. Mom, Karen, Jill and I decided that our goal was 50 taps without a water hit in order for us to win a Corona beer with a slice of lime (my family must make everything a game with goals, rules, and optimal cost-benefit ratio ie beer rewards). We shattered the 50 goal, and extended to 60 before the beer caused sluggish arms.

Erika, too lazy to jump with us, soon ate the wake of 860 pounds of water displacement


Random Quote of the trip: "Darwin had it right. The reason I drink to excess, is because I want to eliminate the weakest brain cells." Cam (after several martinis)

On Saturday, we decided to enact our stock jumping routine picture, but with a pool twist. As you can see, we've brought extreme glee into the grey shroud of mid-life drudgeries (I'm just jealous because you have money). The looks on everyone's faces are priceless, and by priceless I mean embarrassing.

No one born after 1957 was allowed in this picture...


Happy 60th Dad!

Random Quote of the Weekend:
Jake: "In most families, everyone just ignores the elephant in the room."
Karen: "Well, in our family, we just hope the elephant will go away once we invite it for a drink."

My dad got many Harley Davidson novelty items for his birthday, including a knife, cook book (and then Erika coming in un-thematically with SHAM-WOW!). My dad proved he still has some child in him as he pretended to stab himself with slight-of-hand knife tricks. Growing up with Curly and Mo Stooge, Dad learned from an early age that all violence is okay if you're goofy while doing it.

The point is, I don't think any Hell's Angel who actually gets in bar knife fights uses an official Harley Davidson knife. That takes the "cool factor" of the knife fight down by like 90 percent. It's like robbing a bank with a gun that has a Clint Eastwood's face on it. Corporate logos don't need to appear on bad-ass items.

Anyway, that's about the extent of the weekend. Good times were had by all, as was imbibery (my word) and bursting bellies. And the best part about it? That oh-so present elephant in the room that seems to happen at all family gatherings? He took our offer of several lemon drops and passed out somewhere in an alley.

Until next time,

We're out!