Turning *0 Years Old

It's been a while since I've posted, but a handful of people have stumbled upon my blog lately, and asked me why I've been away. No good reason, just the usual reasons. It's sort of ironic though that prospective clients/colleagues in my various lines of work checking me out professionally come to this, and are more taken with it than any of my so-called credentials. Oh, well - they stick around. They don't know if I'm good, but at least I'm funny.

This morning, as I dropped the kids off at school, I gave them my normal "Have a great day!" goodbye, to which my middle schooler responded, "Don't tell me what to do," as she slid out of the car and didn't look back. And you think to yourself, "I gave up my life for this."

This reflection has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I hit one of those dreaded decade birthdays over the weekend, and have cause to reflect momentarily on my-life-such-as-it-is-to-date. I had lunch to celebrate my demise with my college roommate (and it was a great lunch at Jumpin' Jays in Portsmouth, NH - go there - they were so nice to me about the big *0, and gave me a free dessert, a gooey toffee cake thing, which at *-0, you might as well just go ahead and eat, cause who are you kidding, you're old, and no one's looking). So back to lunch - my friend gave me this book of essays on turning the big *0, and you would think such a book would be uplifting, and make you see the bright side of *0. No siree. This book was REAL. It went for the big *0 jugular, with nuggets like: At *0, you only need one meal and two lights snacks a day, so just accept it and stop eating. And, at *0, you take the unpublished novel, your secret ambitions as to what you'll be when you grow up, the plans for the dreamhouse, etc., put them in a big pile, and light a match. You're old. It's never going to happen. Sorta not what you imagine when you pick up a book of essays on turning *0. I bet at the end, it gives you advice on pre-paying for your funeral and buying your casket online.

I'm not even going to how at the Big *0 plus one day, I discovered that my eyelids are drooping. Seriously, I need clothespins. How did that elude me till now? Did I not notice that I have to manually open my eyes to peruse my face in my 5x magnifying mirror? (Which my mother took one look at and said, "Why did you buy THAT?") Not a big one for facing facts, my Mom. But she looks great for not looking close. I think I'll take my aging advice from her. She's styling, and dreaming big, and I think that's what really keeps you going. She just better not tell me what to do.

Have a great day!!