Trees and Tea

Today is my birthday. I’m 47, but I’ve been telling people I was 47 since 2020, so I’m just gonna be 50 and stop worrying about it.

Laine’s dad died five days ago and it’s been another really sad Dillcember, but we’ve worked in some bright spots. I got my annual haircut.

We celebrated Friday the 13th with a cocktail party and art fair at LitShop, then a nice a cappella vocal concert at the art museum.

I spent six hours on Saturday making sweets with my mom in her kitchen.

I went with my super soft millennials to Grant’s Farm Sunday night and drank a Budweiser, rode the tram, saw some goats.

I was gonna write a bunch of stuff about Laine’s dad, her best bud, but everything seems flat. Laine’s digging through photos for his memorial slideshow and he was such a neat person. No matter what was going on, me and Dave always had in common that we loved Laine to bits. They were an exclusive club that was fun just to be near, and I know from exclusive clubs with Laine in them.

I’m gonna make a mix CD for my friends this week, if I can make it not so sad.

But for now, I’m making tuna casserole for my birthday dinner.