Turning 52

The best thing about being in my 50s is that I have far fewer fucks to give about stupid shit. I’m getting old. I am not guaranteed a tomorrow, ever. Each day that I wake up on the right side of the dirt is a gift. Some days are easy, many are not. The world is unstable, U.S. politics are terrifying, and the future looks bleak in a number of ways. And even my body isn’t super-cooperative with me most days.

But I endeavor to find something every day that makes me grateful to be alive. Even little things like having an iced coffee, feeling the sun and wind on my skin, hearing my 16 year old laugh, realizing that I don’t ever have to wear a dress again if I don’t want to.

Actually, ESPECIALLY the little things. They’re enough.

I’m not on a “gratitude journey” or “feeling called to self reflection” or whatever phrases get used about that stuff. There’s nothing special or precious about simply being thankful that I exist.

So — I turned 52 and it’s freaking great being 52! I have had 52 years on this planet! Not everyone gets that!

And I even got presents! It’s not every day that someone gives you a present! Doc and Jamie got me caramel, wine, a freaking adorable Halloween bird, and some Tru-Tone vintage style Christmas light bulbs. I also went to IKEA for a mini greenhouse for my new succulents!