The pictures speak for themselves.

Alas - I thought my future vet bills were no longer an issue...After all I had my grannie's Alexandrite ring to rely on. And then I read the following: While determining the exact origin of a gem is a matter for professionals, here is a brief guideline. If the gem has good clarity, strong color change, reasonable size, and your grandmother was not exceptionally wealthy, it is most likely a synthetic.
And that is the epitome of an anticlimactic sentence!

Five women all of an age sitting at the table, celebrating said age...
Five women all of an age get the brilliant idea: We should take a picture!
Not of the five women - we are of an age - but of the cupcakes bought to celebrate said age.
Five women all of an age - not one has a camera - not even the host - naturally. We are of an age.
Ah but...one has a smart phone... bought recently on the advice of her daughter.
Four women all of an age look in astonishment at said device. It is bright blue.
Three women all of an age say: I will never get one of those.
The fourth says: I'd better get one of those before they get rid of land lines.
The proud owner of said device admits that she has never used the camera.
It must be easy we say. And yes...after several accidental selfies, she takes a picture and we look in astonishment but what now!
Oh I don't know, says the camera owner. I only know how to text. I don't know how to call someone; I don't know how to answer the phone. I got a call from Peru but I think it was a wrong number.
Five women all of an age agree that it was probably better that she didn't answer. But surely it must be simple...
One woman gets out her cell phone...a simple device with a flip top. She knows how to use it. And so she phones the owner of the bright blue smart phone.
And it rings...loudly.
And the owner starts tapping on the green icon.
And nothing happens.
And the owner of the flip phone says: Your line is busy. But I don't think you should have to tap that hard.
And we try again but we all become bored. We are of a certain age.
Later that afternoon, I meet with some thirty year old's all of whom have smart phones...naturally...
And one admits that she too couldn't answer her phone. She had to go back to the  booth where she bought it.
But the answer is...not obvious. One has to swipe, not tap. Who ever heard of swiping a phone!

I learned today once more how privileged I was. I heard of the death of a young woman whom I taught - actually she was 59...but she was a young woman...and I find myself realizing that I have to breathe vitally...for myself and in memory of all those who have not had the chance I have had.

And it makes me understand but feel awkward.

There's nothing quite like an almost dead amaryllis...that's what I say...I have too much else to say and I can't remember it...

Mind you my mind is elsewhere...I'm washing my cat three times a week. I'm glad he doesn't blog!

Oooof! And I call myself a blogger...
But I did see a broad-tailed hawk, one hundred crows, and a pileated woodpecker...all in one afternoon whilst playing bridge...
And I didn't have my camera with me!

I was watching the Canadian Figure Skating championships last night...wondering what had happened to the artistry.The focus is on jumping. Male or female, if one doesn't execute a quadruple reverse backwards see saw, one is doomed never to gain fame. Even the couples are throwing each other far enough to make four twists - a sure gold. In order to accomplish this one whizzes around the rink looking backwards at some predetermined spot and prays. All I can say is thank goodness for the ice dancers who aren't allowed to jump...yet.

And then they announced that Toller Cranston had died and I tumbled back into another era when Mrs. Lane, the Strawberry lady of his paintings, was selling his work in Pointe Claire village so that Cranston could even get the ice time to practice. And I bought into the whimsy, literally. Age is a strange condition. He must have been twenty or close to that and I would have been thirty or close to that. I'm glad enough of us bought into the whimsy that he could go on to encourage the artistry. I hope someone looks back and says: Oh...that's what it is all about.