The Fredösphere

My fun-filled weekend began with a Friday night Fountainhead party.  Hilarity ensued as planned.  Saturday found us traveling to Frankenmuth, Michigan for a family reunion.  You don't know what Frankenmuth is?  It's the place where twee faux-Bavarian restaurants go when they die.  At times it has laid claim to the title of premiere tourist destination for all of Michigan (supposedly beating out the Tiara, the Mackinac Bridge) and natives tend to start rolling their eyes over it once they reach the age of irony, i.e., fourteen, but these days it has acquired a few really nice destinations, including a brewery that serves bread made from an exclusive recipe by Ann Arbor's own Zingerman's Deli (A.K.A. the Third Holiest Site In Judaism).  Today was relatively calm, but 13 large planes did lumber over the neighborhood; I'm guessing they were B-24s and that they were built at nearby Willow Run airport.  There was something creepy about the way the flew en masse so slowly and so low.

UPDATE: After looking closely at photos, I'm sure those planes were not B-24s.  From the look of the tail I'd say they could be B-17s.