It has come to my attention that I am the mother of a 50 year old woman. How did that happen? It seems like yesterday that she was born on a 106 degree summer day - she came with the most beautiful head of dark hair, perfect little fingers and toes and beautiful deep brown eyes. A treasure tied up in one sweet package. She still has it all and then some.
Happy Birthday, dearest Anne, you make 50 a very nice place to be. I love you!