The year before 50

So… Monday, I turned 49.

Actually, about a month ago someone asked me which birthday this was. I said 59. There was a moment of confused silence until I realized that I had accidentally made myself a decade older than I am. Hilarity insued.

To be honest, I am quite proud of my age, don’t think I look as old as I am (and often neither does anyone else), and am somewhat bemused when I think of how old I really am. In some ways, I gues I am lucky to have atttained 49 years and have made several concerted efforts to take myself out of the running (I don’t recommend trying to kill yourself to get your life back on track, but I can’t argue with success – or lack of success?!?).

In some ways I don’t see myself as any different, and I guess I’m not, than I was at ages 4, 16, 25, 32…. In others, I am so very different. In reality, I am still the little kid so excited about seeing my first snowfall…..

Swinging on the homemade swing on our porch….

Trying to be very helpful in the garden (and nearly falling off the roof, at one point)


With the little red swimsuit….


The teen who finally grew into her nose and ears… and filled out a bikini…


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