Only one more day before I roll into 47 which naturally means I’m thinking about my halfway-there To Do List. As BrightSide kindly pointed out to Bear recently we’ve pretty much reached the midpoint…his commentary on average life spans and how we’re on the other side of that mountain so utterly horrified Bear, she’ll have fodder for years of counseling.
Don’t say we never did anything for our kids.
You may have picked up from yesterday’s Share Your World that I spent last week in Puerto Rico and man, do I have some stories to tell you. Unfortunately, I’ve had a bug for the last 36 hours and can only just now look at my computer screen without wanting to vomit. (Travel related? Unrelated? I don’t know and I don’t care as long as it’s gone.)
So I need some time to gather my thoughts a bit, but until I’ve got my feet under me here’s the bare bones of the matter.
Tattoos. The word itself evokes a reaction but really, folks, it’s all a matter of perspective.
Hear me out now. Like most everything else on the planet, people land in one of three camps when it comes to tattoos. a) Love ’em. b) Hate ’em. c) Basically ambivalent. A simple categorization system that applies to more areas of life than you’d think.
Black olives? Love ’em. Novels? Love ’em. Heels or shoes that pinch? Hate ’em. Sports teams? Ambivalent.
I could go on and on and on, but you don’t have time for that and neither do I. So let’s roll back to today’s topic: tattoos.
I’ve been working with my doctor for about a year now on my breathing. To say it’s been a long, slow process would be a vast understatement. Vast in a “the Grand Canyon is a pretty valley” sort of way.
But I’m hanging in there ‘cuz, you know, that whole pesky breathing thing. It’s not like I can give it up for Lent.
Lately I’ve been thinking about my younger days.
See that sweet face? (Yeah, BrightSide, too.) How innocent, how naive…ready to go along to get along, keep the peace, calm the waters no matter what.
Well, lately I’ve been thinking about what I’d tell that 20-something me.
I’ve hit the Big 4-6 today. Past the decade midpoint. On the downhill slide to 50.
Woo hoo, people, it’s party time!
In honor of this momentous occasion, here are 46 tidbits for the day.
Celebrations are powerful, especially for children. They don’t understand I’m not really up for Christmas this year or let’s just let this birthday pass quietly. They understand the inherent joy in special days, and they’re drawn to reveling in them. They’re children, after all, even after they’ve morphed into bigger bodies, and if we’re lucky they haven’t lost the magic in marking milestones with joy.
Which has made this past year somewhat difficult for me.
For such a spunky gal (yep, I said spunky), I sure did spend a lot of time blending into the background. Not making waves, not jumping into confrontations, keeping my mouth shut even when something made me feel weird.
Camouflage was a survival skill, one that I carefully honed over the years.