January 26, 1960

or it's all about me today

Okay, so today is my birthday. I turned seven squared today which means there is a "9" in my age this year. Usually "9" birthdays freak me out a bit. I don't know why. You'd think the "0" year is the total freak-out year where everyone has to give you a pass because you're feeling like a relic starting yet an entirely new decade that feels a little too snug like a pair of brand new Spanks and has to be broken in gradually over say... three to nine years. 

Not so for me. I actually embrace the "0" year with gusto since I usually start referring to myself as 30, 40 whatever, long before I get there. Sort of like a test drive to see how she handles. Quick to the helm...still brakes pretty well...has a reasonably descent backside. 

This year is different. I'm remarkably cool with my 7 x 7. In fact, I'm so down with it, the very notion of being 49 makes me laugh...and not a little laugh either... like embarrassing large guffaw laughs. I suspect the reason may be I'm such a flaming IDIOT. How could I possibly be this old. I am totally immature and have no idea what I'm doing. Do you see the humor?

But it's okay. For the first time EVER I am completely cool with who I am. Sure I'm a little rounder and the lines around my eyes are a little deeper when I laugh and the junk in my trunk is a little more mobile, but I'm not beating myself up about any of it. I yam what I yam. I'm totally channeling Popeye here... and it feels great!! 

Plus, with this aging thing comes a freedom that is palpable. I so do not give a crap what strangers think anymore. I do whatever I feel like doing (within in legal limits, of course). Things I would have been self-conscious about before, require no second thought now. Perfect example: when I'm in a grocery or drug store and a song comes on that I love, I am totally dancing and singing in the aisle. It doesn't matter who's around. If we had kids, I would completely embarrass them. And that would be FANTASTIC! As it stands I have to settle for making my nieces and nephews cringe, which is almost as sweet. Score one for the non-parental unit. (fair warning, Reg)

A friend at work has great memories of his Grandmother. She always wore a bottle opener on a string around her neck, drove a smoking hot, super charged Camaro with a bottle of beer tucked between the bucket seats and would drive 100 mph just because he asked her to. 

She's my new hero. 

Hey, this maturity thing is way overrated. Just because you have to grow older, doesn't mean you have to grow up.