Another year, another photo..
Updated: Feb 15
Why I have this tradition of posting pictures of myself on my birthday is mystery to me. I think that one day I will actually forget what I look like, and I’ll need to go back and see what it was that prompted the inner fashionista to dress and act that way. This year, for sure,was the year of the boot. Hardly a day went by after October 1st that the formidable boots did not appear. Hence, the need for a full length, booted photo.
This was also the year of curly “do”. And let’s not forget the red plaids. We have to have red plaids..
So, other than documenting my current trends in weirdness, birthdays are also a time for reflection, correction, and celebrating.
So, I’m a few hours out from turning 44. Double digit and decade birthdays are special. My mother told me that, and I’m sticking with it.
I love telling people, “hey, it’s my birthday this week” and see what they say. I think polite, genteel women do not mention their age. I guess I’m not polite or genteel, because I love getting older, and I love celebrating all month long and telling everyone whether they want to hear it or not. “It’s my birthday…”
Here are some of the responses people have given me when I’ve told them that my birthday was this week.
“Hey, I guess you’re turning 28, again, right?” (Yes, I’ve been 28 for last 15 years. What do I owe you,man? )
Here’s another funny one:
“What?? You’re only 44?? I thought you were my age!” (She’s 64– I better start using that under-eye cream)
And this is one was from today:
“Well.. it’s beats the alternative.” (What’s that?) “you know.. dying.. dead..”
Yes, being 44 and alive and healthy does beat the alternative, except when the alternative is being with the Lord Jesus in heaven.
And I have realized that I only have 6 more years until 50, which means I need to get crackin’.. Not sure what needs to get cracking, but something needs to go forward because I have goals. Big goals. I just forgot what they were.
I think I’m going to start by buying a swimsuit and take up lap swimming. I think Emily and I will each have black, Olympic style suits, goggles, swim caps–the works.
I figure getting the swimsuit “look” is half the battle. Next, it’s about dipping our feet into the water. By the time I’m 50, I would like to swim a mile or so. Not sure how many laps a mile is, but it does sound ambitious. And Emily needs to have some swim lessons, so she can be my swim partner.
Well, I suppose I should impart some wisdom before I close the annual birthday post.
O.K. how’s this: if you are going to cook frozen chicken, just act like you wanted it frozen.
Here’s another piece of advice: you really don’t need that. Whatever it is, you don’t need it. Cuz it’s just stuff.
And finally: Make your bed in the morning. It sets the tone for the entire day.
The end. I love you all.