Greetings from the dark ages

Nearly everyone has run out of their hot spot from their phones, which means that access to things such as laptops is completely out of the question. TM still had a tiny bit left, which is why I'm able to get on to write t a brief message saying all is well.  J. has tried every internet service provider who is out there, and short of raising our own cell phone tower, this is the best solution we have. Since we run out of hot spot before the end of the month, it is clearly a not terrific solution.

In the meantime, life goes on pretty much as usual. Dinners continue to happen, though with 13 usually at the table, it can get loud. M. got this picture of the end of dinner tonight. People were pretty much finished, but were lingering and enjoying the "conversation"... or whatever it was.

This is the description that M. sent B., since he wasn't here to enjoy it all.

A. is yelling about how she is still scared of auto flushing toilets. Y. just spit milk out of her mouth [E.'s addition, no doubt in reaction to A.'s current topic of conversation] all over D., who physically recoiled from the milk spray. P. is busy eating all the extra bread out of the basket and giving cutting remarks about how A. is scared of toilets. Mother has completely collapsed on the table and given up. Father has his head in his hands. L. is taking the opportunity to eat all the remaining meat out of the salad, and K. is laughing about the fact that A. said, "bottom". Olive is standing at the table, trying to decide which plate to lick first, since everyone is distracted.

J. has decided that the best way to characterize our dinner time is a cross between the Algonquin Round Table, a frat party, and a clown convention.