This is Going Like Sixty and I’m Pooped.

We had a great time celebrating my wife’s birthday.


  • Limo to pick up friends for breakfast at Cracker Barrel. Since I was the only male in the bunch, they decided that the people in the restaurant would think I was her gay friend.
  • Nine holes of golf. Practice for big couples tournament (she was overall general chairboss) was rained out at the turn. I was glad.
  • DJ at club lead everyone in toast. (Same as in ad that ran in newspaper – see previous post.)
  • Pepsi toast. Her preferred beverage.
  • Right after the toast, a friend brought out a disability scooter, bike helmet with a tiara glued on top, and boa. (She was into boas way before everybody else. Is that a good thing?) She had a great time bombing around the place beeping at everyone.


  • Golf at 8 a.m. Finished at 1:30. Shot 89. Middle of fourth (out of six) flight.
  • Back to club at 6 to finish decorating for casino night. She won 90,000 at blackjack after loaning me 10,000 because I busted out of Texas Hold ’em and she wanted to keep playing.


  • Golf at 8 a.m. Finished at 1:00. Shot 84. Moved up a notch but out of the money.
  • Nap for her.


  • Birthday cards from her four docs arrived. (I took the cards to them to sign and mailed them.)
  • Ads in newspaper. Her creative friends wrote: Full of panache in the heart of Dixie, oh my gosh, look who’s sixty. I provided a picture of her when she was 14 – zits and all.


  • Two friends decorated front yard with pink flamingos, boas, neon lighted palm trees, and balloons. They came in the house and woke her up with noise makers and singing Happy Birthday. (They may be former friends now.) They had set up table in front yard with donuts and coffee, so they could chat and wave at neighbors and others as they left for work.
  • Dinner with 20 friends at greek restaurant. Opa!
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This is Going Like Sixty and I’m Pooped. — 1 Comment