Sorry I didn’t blog on Monday, but after that surprise Fabulous Forty “70’s” party my hubby threw me for my birthday this past Saturday, I was officially in a comma. It was all I could do to even make it to church on Sunday. I had aches and pains all over my body from actually trying to do things like the snake (which was particularly embarrassing considering that my abdominal muscles are so weak that I couldn’t lift my body off of the ground) and break dance (it may not be break dancing to you young whipper snappers, but it was break dancing to me). I’m telling you I must have spent at least three hours dancing and singing non-stop and consequently was in serious need of a tub soak.
Later this week (hopefully tomorrow), I’ll be posting photos from that blessed, awesome and never-to-be forgotten event explaining who all the dastardly attendees were – none will be spared! It will feature those rotten scoundrels who pulled such shenanigans and fibbed to me for weeks just so that they could pull the wool over my eyes. Those hooligans who texted and called me THAT VERY DAY to say happy birthday and explain how sorry they were that they wouldn’t see me, but were actually at my home waiting to surprise me.
Before my Birthday, I said that “Forty” is the new “Thirty”. But that’s not true. Forty “IS” Forty, and it’s better than Thirty. Forty “IS” simply FABULOUS!
Fabulous Forty Tiffiney