Hats of a summer day

 

When you've got champagne bottles and umbrella crankers in the foreground, who needs fig leaves? We will never tell, and no one could ever tell for sure the identities of the wise and witty gals and guys who traveled to Camelot this sunny afternoon to pay tribute to the Goomp on his 62nd Father's Day.

Then there's Tuck. If the hat makes the man, there's no mistaking our man. As we've said before, he's a keeper. It's too late to go under cover.

A pretty girl is like a melody. Our fellow weird sister is a woman of many hats.

For the people the big aluminum bowl was where you threw your discarded lobster shells and corn cobs. For Tiny it was where you went for post prandial treats.

Baby demonstrates #3 on the Catfort Scale on this hot, humid late-spring afternoon.

Goomp's Purrky -- Mr. Perkins -- treed earlier this afternoon by an unruly neighborhood rug rat, cuddles up to alpha cat Goomp, the best friend a cat ever had.

Comments

[goomp]

Purrky says he is mighty proud to be displayed on the illustrious Sisu.

[Teresa]

I can see the resemblance between you and your sister. *grin*

Nice hats. I've never been able to wear them. Don't know why, I just can't. Good thing I wasn't an adult before 1960... LOL.

[Tara]

Great hat.

I can't wear them either.You all look mighty fine in these pictures.But I'm afraid the cats upstage everyone.