Much has transpired since my last post. It turns out, watching a toddler and tending a household doesn’t leave much time for blogging. Wait. That’s a lie. The time is there. The energy just isn’t.
So I turned 60 this past Friday. Funny thing: my age never bothered me before. Maybe that was because I never felt my age before. This time around… not so thrilled. My energy level and my joints are crying out, “You are old!”
My family has a thing about milestone birthdays – they like to celebrate them. I really have no desire to celebrate this milestone. Mind you, I’m not complaining about turning 60. It beats the alternative. Too many family members didn’t make it to 60 so I am not taking it for granted. But I really don’t want to celebrate getting older.
Oops. Another lie. It’s not that I don’t want to celebrate. It’s just that I fail to see any real reason to do so. Oh, and let’s not mention I’m basically throwing myself a party just to satisfy the masses so they don’t revolt. Is it just me or does anyone else see something weird about that?
Maybe I should declare my own revolution: If I make it to 70, I refuse to plan my own party. If y’all want a party, y’all are hereby put in charge.