The Golden Jubilee

My home is telling on me. The past few Friday’s have looked similar where all of the empty cups, mugs and coffee paraphernalia congregated to the kitchen island as if to say, “We served her well today.” The empty water bottle resting in the middle of the massive wood table didn’t make it to the ceremony.

A couple of weeks ago my neighbors wife invited me to have coffee with her and another neighbor down the street. I hadn’t formally met the other neighbor, but the two of them have been friends for many years. With a slight hesitation, I went and it felt like an hours worth of them asking all about me. I didn’t share at an intimate level, but politely answered all of their questions and if you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know I can be a bit much to put it mildly.

Neither woman has spoken to me since.

The scenarios of the mind will begin to swirl and even for myself in past instances I’d begin questioning my behavior during coffee. My daughter would pick on me and say, “You didn’t hide your crazy well enough”, but something shifts in a woman after the age of 55. As we near the age of 60 and beyond, other people’s approval, or opinion of ourselves doesn’t matter. My gosh darling, we’ve been roaming this earth for half a century, so by His grace we must be doing something right!

Trying to find a word, or phrase for half a century, the best I could come up with became the title of this post. The 50th wedding anniversary is called the golden jubilee and sitting here today my life feels pretty damn near golden. Let me encourage you to not allow anyone to steal the golden from your jubilee.

You Do You Boo

It’s Friday morning around 10:00 am, and I’m sitting at the massive wood kitchen table that has evolved into a giant desk. Looking away from the laptop screen onto the window I spot the mail carrier’s van sitting in front of my mailbox. Laying my glasses aside I head for the door, step outside and stroll through the front yard, across the street to the mailbox. That’s when I spotted it…

My neighbors had company and they were still seated in their vehicle with a clear view of yours truly. It bothered me for half a second, but then I felt my back straighten to stand at full height and lifted my chin as if I belonged there.

Here’s a detail about my walk to the mailbox. I was still wearing my pajamas, robe and pink suede house boots. This is not unusual and sometimes you’ll catch me still wearing that at noon if it’s a Friday, or weekend. (The joys of being single and working from home.) None of my outfit matches, so I’m sure it’s a sight to behold for a stranger, but my actual neighbors seem to think it’s part of Barb’s charm. Hercules commented recently, “That’s a nice robe you have there Barbara.”

When people ask, “What do you do for fun?”, I exclaim…”I write letters to people all over the world!” Silence. I wrote about letter writing last year that you can read here, so seeing the mail arrive is happiness for me. I don’t expect a letter in return, but opening the mailbox and seeing a small stack of them is sweet!

Don’t give a single thought what other people think.

You do you boo.

PS. If you’d like to receive a hand-written letter, email your details to