I went to a 91st birthday party for Daniel's grandmother on Saturday. 91st birthday parties are a good thing.
Buying someone a 91st birthday card can be tricky. There's a limited supply of cards that are a) not unbearably tasteless, b) not unbearably sappy, c) not full of overly-hip pop-culture references of minimal relevance to a 91 year-old. I try to aim for something cute and funny. I had a moment of embarrassment last year when I realized I'd bought the same card that one of the cousins had given the year before. Not that the birthday girl noticed, I think, but it's the principle of the thing.
This weekend I bagged up all the change that I toss into the drawer in my bedside table when my pockets get too full or when I have to take a plane flight, and I took it to the CoinStar machine at the local supermarket. It added up to slightly more than $63. Yikes! (I converted half of it into a Starbucks card and half into an Amazon.com gift certificate. I really ought to have donated it to charity - when I lived in Berkeley, I never accumulated change because I gave it all away to panhandlers.)