The Big Seven Oh

Yesterday was a great day, beginning with a telephone call at 8am from 12,000 miles away. My dear friends Geoffrey and Ruth Ingall wished me a happy 70^th birthday before turning in down under. In the excitement, I forgot to remind him that he would be 67 today. However, I made up for it by sending him a rude email this morning. Later in the day Harriet and I took my 91 year-old mother out to Mimi’s for a warm family dinner.

I’ve been amazed at how many folks have wished me Happy Birthday, particularly those old friends I haven’t been in touch with for a while. Thanks everyone!

But possibly the best feeling was at lunch today. My niece, Christine, invited my to join her at Dexter’s, a trendy place in Winter Park. Over gorgonzola burgers and a bottle of Whoop Whoop Shiraz we talked about everything from her new friend to my new novel. When the waiter came with the check, she told him it was my birthday. I had had enough red to ask him how old he thought I was. He put his finger to his temple, squinted at me a moment, and then said, “Fifty-seven?”

The beautiful thing is that I never saw her slip him the ten dollars.