Before Andy waited impatiently for me to come home, then made me play an exceptionally long “Mousies in Cabinet” game, there was my birthday with the Class of 1966 pals.

Tootsie isn’t upset when I greet her with “Meow-meow!”, then correct myself with a “Woof-woof!” Hey! She smells Andy on me and correctly identifies me as  cat person.

A chorus of “Happy Birthday” and a card are de rigueur, of course.

And friends from ancient times and before, of course, are absolutely part of the fête!

Beer and pizza – yum! – seem acceptable for old bodies on special diets because “I had a big salad with it, doctor!” (…and two more slices of pizza so I could finish my Blue Moon, but don’t tell my doctor! Cheese and tomato sauce. Pepperoni in excess. That’s three forbidden items, which makes them taste especially good.) 

We go for ice cream “cake” in our group, which is fine with me because I don’t eat birthday cake someone’s blown out candles over. Unsanitary! The ice cream “cake” was a refreshing end to the meal. Then we finished the day with lots of talk about topics of the day and news about friends.