Judy’s birthday

I met her when I was 24. You do the math. I invited her for a celebratory birthday dinner. Sitting at my big dining table just the 2 of us seemed a little barren so I hauled out a folding table and set it up in the window. The table cloth, which I rarely get to use, was made by my mother while we were in France. Which is to say, I bought a length of fabric and she hemmed it with a sewing machine we borrowed from a neighbor.

The meal was fine, I guess, you can ask Judy for her opinion if you’re really interested, but the table looked great. I’m sure of that. I managed to get pix of it but not the food. Which is how I seem to roll.

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