89! I Can't Believe It Myself

My actual birthday was Monday, but Monday holidays always feel dismal to me. So Woody and I celebrated it this year with a wonderful party Saturday night and then he gave me presents Sunday afternoon, a beautiful blue dress, a black one, a bottle of Bleu perfume and a big box of Godiva dark chocolate truffles. Great gifts. We ate leftovers from the party.

We’re being frugal these days. So are most of our friends. When Mitch, Tasha and Stephanie Grots took me out to lunch on Tuesday, we didn’t get to Fannizi’s in Provincetown till 12:30. Normally it would be packed and we wouldn’t even get a parking space. We got a place in their small lot and the dining room was sparsely occupied. I only know one couple here who are still eating out like they used to. We do take-out sometimes, but we’ve cut way back on that also. It's a Trump-created catastrophe for everyone but his billionaire clique who will gobble up stocks cheap and can ride out the storm. If they want to, they can sell one of their multi-million dollar properties for pocket cash.

We’re finally into the garden. I thinned all the hardy seedlings in the greenhouse (which supplied the makings of a small early salad) and Woody transplanted broccoli seedlings, bok choi and some additional lettuce. He also planted leek seeds and dill. I started three kinds of cucumbers and Genovese basil. Now it’s raw today. Drizzly and in the 40’s. Not going to work outside.

I am wondering how those red states that are being hit so hard by storms and tornadoes can still deny climate change.  It’s hitting all of us. We live in fear of hurricanes demolishing our house – and, of course, with on highway serving the length of Cape Cod, there’s no practical way to evacuate. The Trump-Musk news is another hurricane.

We watched the Dylan movie last night. I enjoyed it but you can see why he had so much trouble forming lasting relationships, at least at that age. Having lived through those times, I thought it was pretty faithful, but downplayed activism.

An old friend whom I had seen little of for a couple of decades has reclaimed our friendship. She is widowed now and free of care-taking that occupied her in recent years. It was good to see her and was warm enough and sunny enough to sit on the sun porch. She’s allergic to cats, but not as violently as my friend Eleanor, who can never come to our house.  My old friend has become a fine poet.

I’m hoping to transplant more seedlings into my garden this week. Chinese cabbage, especially. The perennial beds, and my pollinator garden, all need to be cleaned and fed.