40 and FABULOUS!

I neglect this blog terribly. I started it because my Other Blog had become too familiar and "known" by Real People. I came over here to be more anonymous, so I could write things I wanted to write but felt I could not post at the Other Blog. Plus, I also recognized that my Other Blog was becoming far too boring because I KNEW I had an audience, and I was pretty much writing for that audience, instead of writing for ME. So I started this Blog, and then I realized that whatever I posted here (outside Sunday Scribblings, of course) was basically anonymous and completely ignored by the Universe, and that offended me because I felt I was saying really significant and important things.

What a Narcissistic Blow-Hard I am, huh?

Yeah, well, so what? I DON'T CARE. And you know WHY I don't care? Because I turned 40 more than a week ago, and it did NOT bother me one iota!

A lot of really good things happened to me in my 30s, but a lot of really bad stuff happened to me, too. As my 40th birthday loomed on the horizon, I took stock and realized that I was starting off this new decade in my life in a very, very good place. I have a fabulous new house, a job that I love (which is, nicely, recession-proof), and I have GREAT kids, lots of friends, and a wonderful (although small) family. Yeah, I'm overweight and single with Lots O' Baggage, but that is OKAY. I have learned that I can take care of myself. I have accepted--FINALLY--that I'm smart and talented and I deserve everything that has come to me because I earned it.

And you know what I did for my 40th birthday? (Well, on the actual day, I flew to Washington, D.C. for a work trip, so I really didn't celebrate until 4 days after my actual birthday.)

I threw myself a PARTY!

It was a New House/Promotion/40th Birthday Party, and while I struggled with the audacity of throwing myself my own party, I also recognized that nobody was going to do it for me, and, dammit, I wanted to have a party! I spent hundreds of dollars on groceries and booze, and I invited everybody I knew--co-workers, Boy Scout Parents, College friends, High School friends, Church people--you name them, I invited them.

It was a lot of work, but it was wonderful! I have an awesome house. I'm also an awesome cook. My friends and co-workers are awesome people with cool kids. What's not to love?

Tomorrow, I am hostessing a Women's Group from Church. Next Friday, I will be hostessing a Scrapbooking party. A few weeks after that, I have out-of-town company coming for a visit during Balloon Fiesta, so I am already planning a Weekend Itinerary of all things glorious and wonderful about New Mexico (besides Hot Air Balloons), like the World's Longest Tram, the Jetsons-inspired Spaceship House, a Miraculous Staircase within a small, old church in Santa Fe, a haunted restaurant housed in the Oldest Residence in Albuquerque, fresh-roasted green chile, and home-cooked meals served on my Back Patio with a fantastic view of amazing and awe-inspiring sunsets.

I no longer sit around feeling sorry for myself. I'm BUSY--I've got things to do, people to see, places to go...

Unfortunately, that also means my garage is still filled with boxes of stuff I have yet to unpack, not to mention my Ex-Husband's Worldly Possessions (he got divorced from the StepMonster and is back in town, living with his parents for now, and storing his "stuff" in my garage and in my shed because despite being a highly-empowered Woman of Substance, I am still incapable of being a complete Asshole to anyone that my kids happen to care about. SHUT UP!)

40 is good. I'm totally okay with turning 40, and I honestly don't "get" why it is such a huge issue for so many women. Women who have trouble turning 40 must be women who have lived their lives based on "their looks." They freak out at 40 because that's when "aging" becomes visibly apparent. If you base your value to the world on "how you look," well, then I guess turning 40 is a problem. But, I'm happy to report, it was NOT a problem for ME!

I have always had to rely on my brains, my wit, and my personality because I never have been much to look at. It has served me well--I don't need superficial attention to validate my existence. I am who I am right now, and I have finally, for once in my life, STOPPED caring about what "other people" think about me. I care what my friends think. I care what my family thinks. I care what my co-workers think. But I don't really care what anyone else thinks.