Time to Make 50 My Bitch

The big birthday was today.  Yuck.  Shit, fuck and damn.

 

Just yuck.  I hate every thought of that number. 

Things that are 50 years old are old.

Like the top songs of 1964

 Baby Love (The Supremes)
Can’t Buy Me Love (The Beatles)
Chapel Of Love (The Dixie Cups)
A Hard Day’s Night (The Beatles)
House Of The Rising Sun (The Animals)
I Get Around (The Beach Boys)
I Want To Hold Your Hand (The Beatles)
Pretty Woman (Roy Orbison)
Rag Doll (The Four Seasons)
There, I’ve Said It Again (Bobby Vinton)

 

old, old songs y’all.

All of that said, there is nothing I can do about it and I am lucky to still be alive.

Right?  Right.

 

 

All of that said, I decided last week to embrace the birthday and make it my bitch.

Last year my kids were in England and I was a miserable lump of woman.

 

 

 

So this year, I decided to surround myself with those I love.

Al came to town on Friday night and left this evening.  That was awesome.

On Saturday night, I threw myself a party.

 

 

 

I had my kids around me for days.

Today the 5 of us had lunch with my mom.

She gave me a Michael Kors watch.  It’s gorgeous.

(apparently I need to wear it with a bunch of gold bracelets to be cool)

 

 

Al gave me beautiful earrings and a bracelet, Murano glass from Venice.

 (not this one but similar)

 

A friend gave me these…

 

 

 

Then there was sad time while I took Al to the airport.

 

 

 

But when I got back the kids surprised me with Spa Day.

They had me a foot bath with rose petals in the water.

A snack consisting of cherries and diet Coke.

They massaged my back with my er, ahem, personal massager that they found somewhere.

Then my son cooked dinner.

It was awesome. 

So far, 50 doesn’t suck.