…seeing the signs of aging gave me a bit of a start. You know it’s coming but you’re never quite ready when it does finally appear.

And I’m laughing, snorting even, in that not-so-subtle way that demands you ask me, “what’s so funny?”

Outwardly, I can convince myself–and pretty often the general public in the right light–that I have stalled the biological clock. And then it happens….

I don’t know how Dorothy interpreted the message but for me the effect was visceral, a relaxation into knowing that I don’t know…a damn thing.

Remember my  post a couple of years back about our age versus developmental stage?  Sunday’s New York Times had an article that cut right to the heart of it.  We’re living a hell of a …

Then came the earthquakes. A divorce, single motherhood, a bankruptcy. Bing, Bang. Boom. Even though I was an emotional wreck, I never ballooned to outrageous proportions. Still, for the first time in my life I had to shimmy into a girdle to control the overflow of tummy flesh. I was mortified.

One day it struck me, as I was listening to Swift’s song how well the word “fifty” fit in the title spot. I decided to write the rest of the song.

I want to live
right through to the end in full frontal
engagement, awake to everything.

Yes they do. Every day. In almost every way. This, as much as used-up eggs and hot flashes, seems to be a fact of my midlife.
Once, in my glory days, I could …

Since I’m roughly halfway through my life, you can expect the following to be half wise.