The Birthday Woman

The celebration starts early with the Birthday Club.
Amy, Carol, Verla, Melissa holding Pancake, Jeanette, Verda

Verda, Verla, Jeanette, Amy, Carol. Melissa taking picture.

On my actual birthday,

first I did the garbage because it is garbage day

and I am the official garbage lady;

then I sort and start the laundry;

hanging two batches on the line

which is all it will hold.

Exciting, I know.

Ed was the first to wish me a happy birthday.

I told him he should shower and get ready for his trike ride.

"The birthday woman doesn't tell me what to do,

I'm my own man."

"I've got to hurry," I say to him later as we are eating breakfast.

"Why? It's your birthday.

You should take it easy for an 81-year-old."

DeRay drops us off at the gym to swim

while he goes shopping.

I don't know who had the most fun.

A trike ride in the warm afternoon sun.

Ed's trike had a flat so we had to share.

He went in the morning and I went in the afternoon.

A glorious time to be born. Thank you, Mama & Daddy.

Shadow of me on trike taking a picture in case you are wondering.

Part of the neighborhood scene. Don't blame me.

My visiting teachers dropped this bouquet off

with a card wishing me well.

 Amy takes DeRay & me out for sushi in the evening.
How smart am I to have my birthday fall on 
half-price sushi day?

 Forgot to get a picture before we demolished it.

 Yummy, yes?

Thank you, Amy.

Cherished phone calls,

e-mails,

visits

too.

Besides a couple of old friends,

I got a card from DeRay's financial adviser

and probably would have received one

from my dentist if I had one.

I call my 91-year-old friend of 50 years 
to see if she is dead

since she never misses sending me a card,

me being born on her mother's birthday and all.

The mail failed, not her.

And that's how one 81-year-old celebrated her birthday.