Her black and white geometrically painted mailbox on the street is reflected on the wall beside her front door.
Her quilts are on the walls and a blanket rack's rungs. They are stacked three deep on beds and folded on foot rests. Her giant quilting machine occupies most of the floorspace in a crafting room lined with shelves and clear boxes of fabric.
Today her brilliantly shimmering, red with colorful accented sparklies sneaker-ish shoes complemented her long, bright, many colored tunic. Her wardrobe seems to be full of singularly excellent pieces, all new to my eye and all impressively pleasing.
True, I only see her at events. TBG, however, has been hanging out with her for years.
Twice a week, in the gym and then on Zoom, they and a core group of similarly situated humans have been in each others' lives in the way that time and shared sweat and conversation creates. It's been an extended caring circle for more than a decade.
And so this afternoon we battled traffic and drove cross town to the Birthday Girl's home in Poets Square. There we admired and snacked and toasted her specialness with Prosecco. Her guests were as eclectic as her wardrobe. They had interesting stories and like minded politics; making conversation with strangers was easy.
As we left, Happy Birthday-ing and thanking her for inviting us, she laughed and said: I was surprised that I was 80.... so I decided to have a party.
There's something to be said for that attitude these days, don't you agree?
I love the surprise factor! Terry and I feel that way about being married 50 years. What? Can't be! We're just 50 years old, how can we be married 50 years??? Oh, wait, the years have passed since we were 50, haven't they. But, I just retired... Nope, 15 years now. Oh my.
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