Monday, February 1, 2016

One Hundred and Forty-three years

of living is what The Yard Man and I helped to celebrate this past weekend.  At the first party, on Saturday night, we hugged and sang the Happy Birthday song to two seventy-year-olds.

Next evening, at the second party, we hugged and sang Happy Birthday to a three-year-old.

 Needless to say (though, you'll notice, Reader Dear, I'm proceeding directly to telling you), the parties were very different!  

"We're perfect strangers," I told the birthday woman at the Saturday-night party as I hugged her,  "but, even so, I'm wishing you a very happy birthday, Barb!" 
This birthday celebration was a surprise for the celebrants, given by their children. Due to The Yard Man's (horse [sale]) associations with Larry--one half of the couple--we were privileged to be a part of the food* and drink** and fun***!

*Just one of the many edible highlights: I drooled over the candied bacon!
**Open bar!
***The son dressed up and spinning golden-oldie records.

At the end of the evening, as The Yard Man and I were leaving the party, the wig-wearing deejay handed me a disco ball on a chain.
"Oh, thanks!" I said.
And I thought, "Aha!  We've got another party coming up!"
That's right.  Party Two is coming right up, Reader Dear!
(I.e. To be continued...)

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