They say time it doth speed up a little as you approach the last exits on the freeway, but I feel like every year is still a cornucopia of horror and delight. After so many of my good friends passed on this year, I’ve redoubled myself in my commitment to happy mindless pleasure.
And so a party was held.
My junior high school prom date and fellow Hebrew Day School survivor Irina Reyn showed up. She’s a great novelist, in case you don’t know.
A family of master grillers also appeared to cook the best tri-tip in the tristate.
One of them couldn’t quite make it into the pool afterwards.
The next morning we headed off to Cafe Mutton in Hudson where, among many other things, I ate a mushroom, roquefort and beef tongue tart.
Then I had my favorite upstate martini at the Kinsley in Kingston.
Yes, there is still some life to be had in the fifties.
Also, I am fortunate that my son seems to get me.
Congrats Gershon. 51 was not such a good year for me but no reason why it can't be a great one for you. Wondering in which circle of hell you reside. I had a nice place in the seventh picked out among the heretics but they put me in a sea of lava on the eighth along with the blasphemers and sodomites. We call it Fire Island.
Happy Birthday! Love the card!