My birthday last week brought a morning I might have sooner forgotten.
But not around this house.
You gotta love forethought, right?
I’ll be finding these till I’m 60, at least. (The final 50 pic I threw in while munching on the hunt.)
All is well — the half-century reminder man also clipped me a rose, fresh as young love and ageless as 5000 mornings.
Oooh cute :-) Frank turns 50 this Saturday, and I’m officially handing over the jumper I knitted. I’ve been wondering what else I could do to make it special. Hmmmm, creative juices flowing now :-)
awww….the thought is wonderful. The rose is even better. The big “50″‘s are…I dunno. I guess I’d collect them into a box and say thank you. :) Happy belated birthday.
Cecily, you can let Frank know that being 50 isn’t so bad, at least, it hasn’t been for me these past several days. ;o) Have fun!
Jodi, that’s the thing. I keep stacking 50s around but haven’t decided quite yet what to do with them. Some are still up on doors and cupboards; one is still on my steering wheel…
I just think this is best!
and 50 is the new 40 right?
except someone forgot to tell my body.
Happy Belated Birthday, Deanna. Cheers to many more rose filled years.
Deb, I’m with you – my body didn’t receive that memo, either! :o)