Happy 84th Birthday, Grandma Ginny!!

Grandma Ginny isn't my grandmother. She's my stepma. But Grandma Ginny is what my kids called her growing up, so I did, too. If I don't use Grandma Ginny, which is usually saved for family occasions, I call her Virginia. After my mother died when I was 23, my father remarried a year or so later. As much as I liked my new stepma, I didn't call her Mom. She was 16 years younger than my father and only 12 years older than I, and more like my sister. I was also so bonded to my biological mother that psychologically I couldn't replace her. Regardless, I was thrilled my father had remarried. Plus I got two half brothers out of the deal.  

Since then, every year for the past fifty or so years, Virginia's birthday has come and gone during the same month and, coincidentally, on the same day. So you'd think I could remember those two things. But no, I usually find myself calling her up a week or so after the event to wish her a belated HB and we go out to dinner or something. She never seemed to mind, preferring to ignore the passage of time. She also hates calling attention to herself. 

This year I decided to have a party on her actual birthday with as many of her friends as I could find. I was prompted to do this because one of her best friends, Jody, a pal since junior high school, had past away in 2014.  

In a brilliant move on my part, I contacted another one of her childhood-through-college chums, Ruth, and mentioned my idea to her. She was on board from the get go, calling everyone, ordering a cake, and even encouraging one of their group to fly in for the occasion. We spent a lovely afternoon during the tea time hours -- 3:00 to 5:00 PM -- sipping raspberry tea, enjoying a delightful cake confection. reading some funny cards, passing the homemade fudge. And talking, talking, talking. 

So, without any more pre-mumble, here are some photos from a couple of days ago, with this great group of lo-o-o-o-o-o-ongtime girlfriends, all of whom attended Wellesley or Smith, back in the day when our high school, New Trier, was a feeder school for the Ivy League colleges. 

Mostly they can't believe so many of their group are still around to celebrate Virginia's natal day. Their only deceased friend, Jody, had gone to Stanford, but she was forgiven long ago. 

Grandma Ginny is easy to spot -- she just came from her stylist and her hair is brown. 

This was a discussion of medical mysteries, which usually take over most conversations. 

I'm only 83. They're 84. 

Lynn's smile matches her sense of humor. 

One of the Wellesley girls.

Grandma Ginny was having a great time.

Tish has some serious fudge-making skills.

Didn't you JUST take my picture?

Ruth, our hostess with the mostest. 

Betsy flew in for the event. And took even more pix than I did. 

It was nice to go Olde Schoole and use real silver and china.