Just another Friday, well maybe not

My, my, my. Our 50th anniversary today. Some of our kids called to remember it with me.

Otherwise, I got my hair done and then had lunch with Barbara Whitt. She and Rich grew up with us--a little ahead of us--in Santa Monica. Now they live in Nampa. Wow.

Over lunch we talked about money: they've lost most of theirs because of the shenanigans of a dishonest man they trusted with their investments. I am sorry. Told her I can no longer say they are my wealthy friends. No, she said.

Truly, I am sorrier than this sounds.

We talked about her health. She has Hashimoto's--is it syndrome or disease? She can't eat gluten. She also can't eat dairy and some nuts.

Older people usually talk about health. Who has it, who doesn't.

 My health is good. We didn't have to talk about it.

This I liked:
Barbara: Ta da, ta da, ta da, and I don't even know how old you are.

Conversations generally get around to age when you're our age.

Me: I'm 71.

Barbara: (With a shriek) Oh! I'm older than you!

Me: (With a fist pump) Good.

It always feels good to be the youngest of the group, even a group of two.

Of course, I already knew it, but she had forgotten it, along with many other things, like what time and where we were supposed to meet today. But it's okay. We found each other.

This Barbara didn't like:
Her daughter called the other day to chat with her mom. She asked what Barbara had been doing.
Barbara: Oh, I've been quite busy.

Joanie: (Incredulously) Doing what?!

You see, most people think life has ended for us white-haired women.

It hasn't.