My life...just not on the road I expected (but it's still dang good).: The Celebration of Life (Part III)

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And the last of the Celebration of Life photos for my grandpa...

After a little bandaging-up (we poured vodka on his arm and wrapped it up with duct tape because, again, that's how we roll), Roscoe-T seemed good.

And after all my uncles stood around in a circle sharing a bottle of post-football-game-Bengay (unfortunately, I missed that photo), they seemed good as well.

My husband on the other hand was highly offended when I asked him if he put on any Bengay (apparently, he's too manly for such things), which spurred my Uncle Brad to share a little bit of his leftovers.

And then the A-Hole hat Jessie and Cole had been working on all afternoon was revealed.

And then we hung out.

And started doing a little dancing.

And hung out some more.

And did some more dancing.

And it just kept going on like that for most of the night.

And sometimes we even hung out WHILE we danced.

Seriously, who can resist dancing when "Hey Ya" by OutKast comes on?!? (Just turn it on and see if you can resist.)

My little cousins certainly couldn't.

And then the real dancing broke out.

And that's about the time I handed the camera over to Cole so I could join in.

And then we settled into our favorite, family game...A-Hole.

In the past, we'd always started this game BEFORE anyone started drinking much.

This time though, the cumulative alcohol level made it nearly impossible to even get through the first round.

Ross was made honorary President the first round (because anyone who runs full-speed into a waist high, stationary structure deserves the Presidency).

Not quite sure how my Uncle Brad snagged the seat of Vice President though.

Or why Beth ended up being the A-Hole the first round (I wasn't drinking, and therefore, nothing my family was doing was making any sense to me).

As usual, one of the Kane boys (my Uncle Brad this time) was hiding cards to rig the game (and got caught).

Which resulted in my husband crossing the table to begin disciplinary action in the form of a spanking machine (walking around a table and bending over so each person in the family can spank you is a form of punishment where I come from).

And then for some reason, my (crazy) little Cousin Sammy, decided to run across the table to assassinate (tackle) the president.

Which didn't turn out as well as he had planned (Ross managed to stay in his chair, and Sammy ended up eating dirt on the ground behind him).

And then, as we took a brief intermission, Ross began experiencing chest pain (in the same spot where bruises were starting to form from him running into that stationary structure at full speed while playing football earlier in the day) bad enough that my aunt (a nurse) suggested I take him to the hospital (at that moment, I was quite happy I hadn't felt like drinking all night).

And that's where little Roscoe-T and I stayed until 3:30 in the morning (I just snuggled up in the hospital bed next to him and we both tried to sleep in between all the nurses, doctors, and tests).

They offered him stitches or glue for his arm (he opted for the glue because he's a man, and therefore, he wanted a scar to remind him of his manliness), and sent him home with a clean bill of health and a prescription strength anti-inflammatory for the inflamed cartilage in his chest.

Nothing like a Celebration of Life that ends in the E.R. (my grandpa would have been proud).