So last week I was working on this very deep and profound post about turning 50.
And then this happened.
Yes, my husband interrupted my deep and profound thoughts and surprised me by spiriting me away to a spa resort. In case you didn’t know, it’s very difficult to be deep and profound in a hot tub while drinking a key lime martini. Of course, I’d planned to finish my ruminations on turning a half century, but then this happened.
Yes, my hubby surprised me again by taking me to go skydiving, a longtime dream of mine. And while it’s extremely easy to be deep and profound when you’re flirting with death:
It’s sometimes difficult to write when you’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder from leaving a perfectly good airplane at 13,000 feet and hurtling towards the ground at 120 miles an hour and feeling your facial skin peel back like a banana.
But it did have its moments of rapture.
And I’m just super grateful that I didn’t splat on the ground in front of my children and Mama Rose. Oh, did I mention that Mama Rose surprised me by flying in with my niece Ashley, picking up my kids at school and meeting me at the jump site? Did I cry? Well, of course I did.
Although that picture looks like I’m crying because I have a hairy chest. That’s actually my son’s head plastered to me next to the giant iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts that I was consuming for caffeinated courage. Which I definitely needed to survive the dude who said “I’m not very good at this” when he strapped me into my skydiving gear. And the moment when the dude I was strapped to pulled the rip cord, then said in a panicked voice “Kick your legs hard, the chute’s really tangled”. Mmm-hmmm.
And then there were the parties. The first one, where a bunch of my girlfriends surprised me by flying in from all over the country:
And the second one at a gorgeous lounge with 50 friends in attendance and where Mama Rose bellydanced for me.
You read that right.
In a brilliant echo of my Listen To Your Mother story about my mother surprising me on my 21st birthday by bellydancing at my party, Mama Rose, who turns 80 in January, came shimmying out in full costume, causing a tsunami of cheers and laughter.
Things are never dull in Dusty Land.
And so, my dears, I never did finish my deep and profound treatise on turning a half century. And the only deep and profound thing I can say after all this merriment, is that I am a profoundly blessed woman. I have an incredible husband, a marvelously eccentric mother, great kids and the best friends this side of Heaven. But most precious of all, I have the love of God, a love that is “high and wide and deep and long and which surpasses knowledge”. Ephesians 3:18-19. And my only desire for my next 50 years is that I can live every day in gratitude and strive to deserve even a fraction of the love that has been lavished on me.
Oh, and I’d also like someone to give me this as a t-shirt.
50 is the new 50, yo.