Friday at the Hills in Clinton

This is Uncle Dean.
He is a cowboy.
He is my dad's older brother. Growing up, I called him Uncle Mean. He likes that.
He liked it so much, he tells everyone thats what I call him. Even to this day. He told my kids and now my kids call him that. He actually kinda prefers it. I never put up with his mean-ness as a kid. His own kids may have been scared of him, but I never was. He has a grough exterior, but on the inside, he's an old softy. Seeing him with his own grandchildren is a delight. He was even pretty fun with mine. He came with my grandma for Tyler's baptism last fall, and my kids ended up chasing him around, as if he were another kid.
He let my boys play with his ropes.


Took 'em for pony rides (he just walked around and the horse followed him).

And on his 4 wheely's (thats what the boys called them:) Grandma's barn in the background. Her house is on the other side of it.

We hung out and chatted with my grandma Hill (dad's mom).
She lives on about 5 acres--the same plot of land she lived on as I was growing up. My uncle Dean used to live down the street, now he lives at the end of her pasture. After all that fun, Dean let out the irrigation water, and the kids played in it...just like I did when I was little.



We had a BBQ in the evening with Aunt Bonnie and my cousin Bryan. I love them.

The end of Friday in Clinton.