“I don’t feel very different, she said”*
I had a nice birthday. At my age, I do not need (or expect) much. A nice sign:
…dinner cooked by someone else, a few thoughtful gifts, and I am more than happy.
I had a new movie to watch and a new book to read–what more could I want? World peace?
I had a pleasant and quiet weekend too, although I did get a little bummed out when I went to an estate sale and discovered it was indeed the home of a friend who died last year. Her husband must be down-sizing, and I get that, but, really, couldn’t her married sons have stored her stuff? Did they have to sell it all? Her monogrammed towels? Her sewing projects? Her teacups and golf trophies? All those Christmas decorations? It was depressing and it put me in a bad mood.
I went to church, because I was reading the second lesson (“Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as he is righteous….”). I had signed up to give the altar flowers that day, so I was pleased to see this in the bulletin:
I like to see my parents (and friend Irene) remembered a couple of times a year. The flowers were pretty too.
Sunday was a rainy day, so I changed my after-church plans and headed back home to my basement clean-up. I found another box of stuff from days gone by–college notebooks and letters from the year I was a house counselor at a boarding school in Virginia. These were letters I wrote to my fiancé back in flyover country, and I must say, they were pretty hilarious. I had forgotten so much about that year. Which makes me think (again) how much will be forgotten because no one writes letters any more. Sigh. Anyway, I enjoyed my afternoon remembering those bygone days of my youth.
So one more birthday has come and gone. I’ve come a long way, baby, right?
P.S. Did you spy with your little eye the Playmobil Martin Luther in the top photo? Awesome. Someone reads this blog closely!
*”Back When We Were Beautiful” by Emmylou Harris