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Showing posts from November, 2014

It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To

When my BFF reached her milestone year, she planned her own party. She picked the place, the food and the guests. It worked out so well that I planned to do the same thing this year. And as my birthday was also the same weekend as the NYC breast cancer walk a friend and I planned to participate in, I figured I'd have it the week before. So back in the early spring, I mentioned my party plans to my son. His response was for me to walk in another city another month this year.

Could it be? Was I imagining that the men-children responsible for every stretch mark and quite a few gray hairs and frown lines might be planning a party for me? Could they have inherited that from Wingman?

Twenty years ago, on another milestone birthday, we stopped at his parents' house after spending the day at horse race charity event which was a cover for an all-day bacchanalian bash. In my Ralph Lauren blazer and plaid shorts, I entered to find that he had planned a surprise-complete with masks of my …