Well, I suppose that I had better do something to celebrate turning 50. The most obvious choice is something physical, as it seems like that's the best way to prove that I'm not washed up. Ideally I'd do a forward loop on my windsurfer, but that a challenge since I live next to a windless, waveless millpond. Some people run a marathon, but what's that got to do with the number 50. It's not 50 miles, so why bother? So, what to do?
Push-ups, of course. This is premeditated as I announced two months ago that it was my goal to do 50 push-up when I turn 50. And....how did I make out? Well, it was easy. The faux fatigue at the end of the video was mere theatrics. I could have turned 60.
So what have I learned now that I'm 50? More than anything, I've learned that I'm bald. I went to bed at 49 with a sun bleached blond mane of hair, I woke up bald and 50. Weird. It's strangely disconcerting to watch the top of my head on video, and I'm sure that you feel the same way.
Kojak. Beverley was right.
Speaking of nursing home women with a sense of humour, I'm going to celebrate my birthday by visiting my Mom. I'll visit my Dad too, but he's not a nursing home woman, just to make that clear. He was mistaken for a woman while convalescing in hospital once, but that's another tale for another time.
Wow, I'm really off topic now.
I'm 50. Behold! Shake your head in amazement. I have survived appendicitis, Agricultural College, Toronto (twice!), Alex Tilley and dennis h. hails, windsurfing in the Bay of Fundy, the Mulroney years, Mom's epoch of cooking liver for supper, Dad's grammar lectures (Robbie and me liked them, really), Alex's electric guitar infancy, Doug's Dougedness, Muggins, the Presleys and LM2, disco, hair bands, boy bands, La Forza Del Destino, and way too much alcohol.
But I made it! I'm 50, hear me roar, world, hear me roar!!
Meow.
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