I’m a big fan of birthdays. There are those of us who agree they should be more than just days, like a birth week or a birth month. Hell, if you’re 90 it should be a birth year, and you should party ‘til the cows come home. And send those cows on a round the world trip with their passports and cameras, so it’ll be a LONG time before they come home.

Our matriarch, my Aunt Dee, turned 90 on November 9th, and she’s having a grand week. Her daughter and son-in-law took her to dinner, Anita invited her for cake and ice cream with Steve and me, Anita’s brothers, their families and some friends, and Dee’s other nieces and nephews feted her all week long with breakfasts and lunches. Dee was ecstatic at the number of birthday cards, calls and well wishes she received.

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So how does 90 feel? Aside from a slip of the tongue when she declared, “Next year I’ll be 100!” she seems to be sharp as a tack and doing just fine, just with sore knees and a bit of a tremor. But it doesn’t stop D’evel Knievel from riding her electric scooter up and down the street with her little dog Sweet Pea on her lap. She picks up friends with scooters along the way and the “Gray Panthers” make their rounds through the neighborhood, checking in and spreading cheer.

My Aunt Dee is happy in her heart, and I hope and pray that at that age we all can be, too.

Happy Birthday Ma Tante Dee!

Deborah

PS: For the Citrus Cake recipe I made for her go to Taste of Home.