Nothing big on the agenda today. Dolls, baseball, etc. I am marching to a Friday delivery date. This time I very nearly have more dolls and bears than car to deliver them in!
Today is my birthday. I am exactly 37 years older than Lady GaGa. I filled out a survey this morning from a Pebble forum and it asked for age group giving 10 selections but then dumped whole generations into 55+. I read a tweet a while back from a woman who said that at 92, there were a lot of annoying things, not the least of which was having to scroll and scroll and scroll when filling in a birth year on internet forms. That used to bug the shit out of me, too, but I only have to scroll down to 1949.
I spent most of my birthdays celebrating. There were some memorable ones...
My 12th birthday, like this year, fell right next to Easter. [edit: Turns out this was actually my 10th birthday - thanks, internet!] So my Mom created this lavish Easter Bonnet tea party. It really was amazing. She hand crafted beautiful invitations for all my friends (girls only )and asked each to make an Easter bonnet to wear. Brenda and Linda Vestal were twins and had beautiful twin bonnets nearly all out of netting. Marion Davis, who wore her hair in a pixie cut, had the outside leaves of a cabbage on her head as a cloche with a lovely flower on the side made out of broccoli. My own bonnet featured a bunny on top. We had tea sandwiches with no crusts, of course, and a perfectly wonderful time. The newspaper did a Sunday photo spread on all the bonnets.
When I was 40, I was working in Rochester, MN at IBM and my friend, John, arranged for this to be standing at the entrance to the drive in to work that day. Originally he had my work phone number on it but HR made him take that off.
When I was 50, my friends Jon and Page and a girl friend of theirs met me in Las Vegas for the most fun weekend of just laughs.
There were lots of great celebrations in between. But, these days, I'm not so much into it. I think once my Mother died, there just didn't seem to be any reason to mark the day. For the next month of so if asked or I need to tell someone, I'll forget and say I'm 66. (During the last year of her life, my Mom, who was 82, often would as me 'how old am I again?'.) I don't miss the celebrations - not one bit. I appreciate every single day and I think at this age, every single day is kind of a gift in itself.