FIFTY AND FABULOUS…..

…….OR BITE ME – (You choose.)

I’m about to “celebrate” a big birthday.  Yeah….THAT one.  And so far, I’m not dealing with the idea very well.  I’ve never been one to be bothered by the passing of another age milestone: 

Thirty?  I was THRIVING.  Didn’t phase me.

Forty?  Lordy, this is fun.  Bring it on.

But FIFTY?  In the last few months, the decline in my physical, mental and emotional well-being is snow-balling at a break-my flippin’-neck pace.  The eye-sight is going fast.  Everything hurts.  And I hear they are planning to give my arse its own zip code soon.

I guess part of the problem is that as Martina McBride would say, “Every morning when I drink my coffee, I can’t believe my life has turned out this way.”  That’s not to say that I’m not blessed.  Certainly I am.  And by contrast, when I compare my life to some, I admit that I feel a little ashamed of myself for whining.  But whining and/or wining makes me feel better, Dammick! 

As the self-appointed Queen of Everything, one might think that I would be above such triviality.  It’s really just a number after all.  But it’s  a really BIG number.   Waaaaaaaa.

I’ve never been one to make a plan.  In fact, bad things happen when I make plans, so I just don’t make them. I choose to live my life by the seat of my pants.  I play it by ear.  I go with the flow.  Whichever way the wind blows me.  I really hope you get the idea here because I seem to be out of clichés.  (And I never thought that could happen.)

I’m afraid that my lack of planning has left me feeling that I have lived without purpose.  Could it be that I was meant to do more than spread good cheer and nonsense wherever I go?  Is this it?  I mean after half a century, I should be able to look back and say, “WOW!  Look at all I’ve accomplished!”   Is it too late to take stock?  Perhaps a nice midlife crisis would do the trick but I don’t have time for that!   

I have to do something……even if it’s wrong.  Surely there is something I can do that will put me on the path to self fulfillment and enlightenment.  I’ve listed some possibilities:

• I could run away and join the circus.  I’m pretty sure I would make a really great trapeze artist.  (Do those costumes come in extra large?)
• I could join the Peace Corps.  (Except I heard they send you to countries that have no cheese!)
• I’ve given serious consideration to becoming an alcoholic but I keep forgetting to keep drinking after one glass of wine. 
• I could move to the beach and sell velvet Elvis paintings by the shore.  (a life-long dream of mine)
• CIA?  Covert Operative?  I AM an excellent markswoman.   I could do great things with a sniper rifle and work out my midlife frustrations at the same time.  Nah, I can never keep a secret.  *sigh* 

Will SMB survive the BIG ONE?  Stay tuned. 

ACK!

There is something in the air. Janie suggested that it’s hormonal (read: meno- flippin psycho, raving lunatic, cranky b*tch pausal). I spent a few stolen minutes on her couch yesterday. Thanks, Janie. Erin informed me that tomorrow is a full moon. EEK! Could it be that my werewolf tendencies are working in advance? The point is: all over the interwebs, I’m seeing, reading, hearing that something is about to blow. I think it’s me.

I think I bit Daughter #2’s head off three times yesterday. Rather remarkable actually as she only has one head. (She must be like the chameleon who grows its tail back when you pull it off.) She responded to these multiple beheadings by bringing me flowers at the end of the day. (She’s too young to buy alcohol.)

**Let’s all take a moment to contemplate what a terrible person I am and how very sweet D2 is.**

Here’s the thing: I like all the skies in my world to be blue ALL the time. And as a very wise 12 year old (D1) once told me, "Life just isn’t like that.” Dammit!

I don’t really like posting about the stinky stuff in my life unless I can turn it into a funny because let’s face it we all have stinky stuff and who wants to hear that? I’m posting the sludge today because I need your help. (Read: I can’t afford therapy.)

Below are a list of my current symptoms and some self-analysis. I’m begging you to channel your inner psychologist and therapize me.

• I’m tired. Bone tired. I’m getting enough sleep, I’m sure but still I’m tired.
• I’m cranky, almost angry and having a hard time hiding it. (I’m usually pretty good at deceiving the many and taking it out on the few.)
• I don’t want to do anything (and I have a LOT to do.)
• Mother’s Day is almost here. Perhaps, I’m subconsciously reacting because I miss my mom. I don’t want to be pampered. I want to run away. (oops, did I say that out loud?)
• I can’t remember if I felt this way last year. I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday. I can’t remember to pick up my dry-cleaning. (They may have sold it) I can’t remember what I can’t remember.
• I’m whiny. Please pardon my statement of the obvious.

So……………….there you have it. I have more but I fear that if I continue to whine, complain, snark and grumble, you won’t come back again and to whom will I turn then?

Any suggestions?

I could shoot something but the gun range is temporarily closed due to some ridiculous zoning laws.

The emergency stash of dark chocolate m&ms isn’t working.

I could go to see the Disney Earth movie again. That was a smile maker.

I’m going for a coffee refill. With any luck, y’all will come up with a solution to the disaster that is me by the time I get back.

Geez, I hate being a biatch! And yet…………….I can’t help myself. ACK!