And she's blue.
The stupid spa called and ruined her surprise yesterday, and she's worrying about passing out of the Spring Chicken age range. (I have assured her that won't happen until she's 72, but she's still worrying.)
Since the spa is ruined I'm scrambling with fridge installation and apple cake for her tonight, but she would very much benefit from a flood of loving, supportive calls. This is the girl who has danced her cute patoot through every birthday she has ever had. She loves her birthday, more than anyone I have ever met.
So call please. Multiple times. If you don't have her cell number (she's in Oxford today) call me and I'll give it to you.