Hello! I am writing this on my phone from a deluxe motel room in Lincoln City, Oregon, where my beloved daughter and granddaughter have taken me to celebrate my birthday with a whirlwind mini vacay. It is fabulous. Tomorrow is my birthday and I am now as old as the year I was born, which is to say, one thousand nine hundred and sixty something. And I barely even feel 850.

It was about 80 degrees today, or at least it was until about 5; the photos in the diptych at the top were taken just three hours apart. There were people on the beach in, gasp, bathing suits! In Oregon! In May! It has never been 80 the day before my birthday, ever. Even when I lived in South Carolina.

So the weather was terrible and wonderful and, seized by the moment and the aroma of the seriously weird cake I was baking this morning – you know that viral thing where you swap the sugar for jello? Yeah, don’t do that – I packed like I still lived in South Carolina. T shirts and shorts and linen capris. That is how I ended up on the beach tonight in floral cotton pajama pants, a cotton dress with dogs on it, a t shirt, a hoodie and, thank the gods for anxiety, the emergency hot pink hat and fuzzy jacket that always live in the car. Yes I looked dangerously insane but, hey, I threw my shoulders back and said to myself, behave as if you are not just a crazy old lady but a world famous crazy old lady. So I marched down the beach in the fog and wind and crashing surf, found an excellent rock with a hole in it and had a glorious time.

Happy birthday to everyone!