And a very special Friday it is, darlings, for today my father reaches the grand old age of 95--yes, darlings!--with ninety percent of things intact, which is better than I will be at that point when I will presumably be pushing up daisies. You have to hand it to him who survived everything from World War II to raising ME, and it is a toss-up, believe me, darlings, as to which was worse.
Still striking out on Match.com. Meanwhile I have been to the bank, got a fabulous card for Janice, plan to go shopping, come home, go back in and see a movie or have a Bloody Mary, and then meet the Girls this evening. My life just does not stop moving, girls, except in the direction of finding a partner.
Thank God I finished that awful Peter Straub book, "A Dark Matter." What a tremendous disappointment; definitely not up to his standards. Unlike the current "The Fleet Street Murders" by that cutie Charles Finch, which is up to his standards. Now if only I could find a man up to mine.
Time to run, girls! Love you all!
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