The old ladies lunch and munch

Today our high school gang celebrated the three March birthdays at my house.  Like--I cooked.  I sliced and assembled and baked a cake.  I brought out the punch bowl and set out tea-size napkins that--oh well--had holly on them.  It was too late when I realized that was all I had.  The wonderful thing about this is that I didn't give a damn about the holiday glitch.  A napkin is a napkin is a napkin.  (Cotton napkins for the table.  I ironed!)  What I'm saying is I want full credit if anyone is grading me.

Anyhoo, we are all turning seventy-one this year and have known each other forever.  Today, we laughed for a couple of hours.  Here is why.  I won't name names:

[A] retold the story of taking a health test as a freshman at the U of U that had a females-only section.  She turned to [B](male), sitting next to her and asked, "How can I fill this out when I don't know what these words mean?"

"What words?" he asked.

She pointed at "vagina."

"Uhh . . ." He gasped for air and then leaned in to whisper, "It's where babies come out."

We all know [A] and [B].  Baaahaaaa.

This becomes funnier when one of the birthday cards mentions angina.  Or maybe the card gave birth to the story.  No pun intended.

We pass cards around for everyone to look at.  One has a picture of [C] in 1960 wearing big clunky glasses.  [D] looks at it and says in all seriousness, "Am I supposed to know who this is?"  Baaaaahaaa.

[W] walks across the room to give me a birthday card with my name on it along with chocolate candy.  I think, when is my birthday?  I'm pretty sure I am not one of the March birthdays, but I am confused.  Maybe they didn't celebrate my birthday last September and they're making up for it in March?  I can't remember back to last September.

[C] says it is a hostess gift.

Then [W] realizes that I am not one of the March birthdays, so I give the chocolates and the card to [N].
Waaaah.

One birthday card had to do with low-hanging boobs, a favorite of girls my age.  I can't remember the details.

At age seventy-one, we are lucky to organize a lunch, remember to go on the right date and time, bring a gift and card for the birthday girl(s).  We don't have to remember who the birthday girl is.  We're happy to be alive.  Still.