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| My birthday breakfast bash |
Back in the 1950s I was once a very sick, hospitalized baby.
In 2016 while vacationing in Central Europe I was blissfully unaware I was not in stellar condition. I returned home, to discover my gall bladder was merrily rotting away in my abdomen. Surgery followed.
In 2018, in order I had the flu, that morphed into pneumonia that took me to the land of sepsis. Everyone but me was concerned for my existence. My doctors said they were amazed that I pulled through.
And in 2019, in the wee hours one night a plummet down my stairwell may well have 'done me in'. I got off with only a broken arm, an eggplant colored face and a few weeks of PT.
My pulmonary doctor read my med records, telling me, 'You have more lives than a cat.' So... I guess I have 5 lives left to squander.
To celebrate those remaining lives, my friend Barb decided to celebrate my 70th birthday with my favorite meal, which is breakfast. So she baked fresh cranberry scones and buds Judy, Diane, Ingrid and Nita came by to help celebrate.
Seventy. Hell, my inner Claire isn't a day over 35. She lives in her 'Happy Place'.
