the beeg day

I'm snatching a moment in the chaos, my friends - it's BDay, the tribes are gathering, and I am officially in my sixty-first year. And all I have to say about that is that Paul McCartney rocking at nearly 70 shows me what I'm headed for. Singing till the end. Fingers crossed.

My friends Lynn and Denis have arrived, on a long pilgrimage from the south of France to Lynn's natal home outside of Montreal, to here and then on to Nova Scotia. Their son and his partner are here, staying down the street, and their eldest daughter with her husband and baby girl, in my basement suite. My mother and aunt are at the hotel, pretty frail but up for the event. My beloved Patsy emailed me a birthday birthday poem last night that made me burst into tears. Anita from Helsinki sent a glorious bouquet, and Ben Torchinsky sent a dozen red roses. My dear friends, I tell you, hype your birthdays and events! Make people celebrate you! It works.

Mind you, there is work involved - in fact, an incredible amount of work, two solid days so far plus what was put in in preparation. Exhausting.

Worth every minute.

That's all I can manage right now - my daughter has just arrived by cab with two buckets - that's literally buckets - of the salads we made yesterday, and we're off. More anon.

My love to you all, from this old and very young woman,