“Celebrate the happiness that friends are always giving, make every day a holiday and celebrate just living!”

I find myself talking out loud more and more often. Usually it is when I'm exasperated after having dropped something, tripped over something or broken something. This is not a new phenomenon as I have always talked to the TV: correcting grammar, snorting at plot contrivances or groaning at silly characters. It seems, though, the older I get, the worse it gets. Soon I will be that mumbling old lady walking up and down the aisles of the grocery store getting pitiful looks. My clothes will be disheveled and stained while my hair will be wild and uncombed. I wonder how long I have.

Though I have more time on my hands than I've ever had, I do less work. I have a landscaper who tends to my lawn and bushes. Every spring he weeds and mulches, cuts down a tree or two and plants flowers. Every fall he readies the garden for winter and transplants whatever needs moving. My yard looks great, best it's ever looked. I don't even water the lawn any more. I have an in ground irrigation system. No more do I lug a hose all over the front of the house. Every two weeks someone comes and cleans. I do cleaning in between, like polishing bookcases and shelves or wet mopping paw prints off the floor, but I can't remember the last time I vacuumed. Sure, I have the time, but I definitely don't have the ambition. I'd rather sit and read or sit and eat bon bons. No guilt here!

Bastille Day was a success. My friends arrived dressed in red, white and blue. Tony was also wearing a jaunty beret, and he carried a French flag. Clare brought a stuffed poodle named Fifi, a pink one with a barrette on her ear. Dinner was delicious, and dessert was spectacular. We watched the all star game and tried to figure out what I'd next celebration would be. I leaned toward August 16, National Bratwurst Day, while Clare, a lover of ice cream, voted for National Banana Split Day on the 25th of the month. Tony just listened. All of us, though, were sorry we missed Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor's Porch Night on July 8th. I figure I'll circle that day on my calendar for next year.