This has been the birthday that I've been dreading. Not 30, 40, or even 50. Nope. 48 is my black birthday.
It has always been pointed out to me how much alike my mom and I are/were. Lots of things. And she died at 48. My Uncle Rich, who I thought was dreamy and cool and everything an uncle should be, also died at 48.
So now I'm 48. Am I ready to die? Have I lived enough life? HELL NO!
- I have a terrific husband and we have the goal of making love in all 50 states. We're not even close yet. (sorry kids!)
- I have an awesome grandson who hasn't been to Disney World with me.
- I have a couple of grandkids in waiting who I'm getting to know who I also need to have some adventures with.
- I have a retirement account that I want to spend, not leave to others to spend. That would just be a drag.
- I need to take Dwaine to see Italy. And I need to see Greece while we're over that way.
- There's weight to be lost!
- And there's weight to be gained!
- I have a lot of projects that are in various stages of completion. I'd like to finish them.
- I'd like to go on my first cruise.
This list could go on and on. And I'm pretty sure that both my mom and my uncle had long lists of things that they would have liked to do before their time was over.
So I'm doing my very best to live as much life as I can each day that I breathe. And I hope that you, dear reader, do as well.
Next year, watch out! My birthday week will become my birthday month as I celebrate making it to 49!