Old Ladies Club

When the first of the Nine turned 25 I started the Old Ladies Club. I know, I know. We are not old. It was a joke. Kinda. So many life changes made us feel old. Well, older. The changes made me feel old. Well, older. But I had my friends. Good friends who just happen to be hitting the same age milestone. Celebration was in order. So, at every birthday I would write, call, or sing something about entry into the Old Ladies Club. Yay? Yep, yay! For being 25.

The last one of us turned 25 last week. "Welcome to the Old Ladies Club!" That's how she was greeted in her emails. It is sorta like the Pink Hat Society, the entry level or precursor to the Red Hat Society. I don't like pink. Never have, so I want us to have our own rules. Renegades. Rebels. Nonconformists. Something our own where we create the standards and expectations.

Things like...

1. No pink. Or no forcing of pink.

2. Little to no make up is required.

3. Laughter. Lots of laughter.

4. Yearly gathering. (Try your hardest to be there.)

5. Submit a Grateful List weekly. (Try your hardest to create.)

The list will continue to grow. Explicitly and implicitly. Written and on our hearts. We do most of these things without thinking. Nothing too new. And my goodness, like we need another name for our group. Like discussed, "best friends" is such a fine title.

I am a member of the Old Ladies Club. There are eight other members. Dues are cheap! Just regular increments of love, kindness, support, and understanding.

It is a fun group. Everybody knows my name.

Growing old(er) isn't that bad.

BEAT