Ruminations on the number '42'

42... Douglas Adams had it pegged as the answer to 'life, the universe, EVERYTHING'. So I'm taking that as my cue for this next year. I would rather that than 'The world is my oyster'... My mother once described oysters as 'black snot balls', years and years and years ago. I have had oysters. I don't like oysters. My mother's voice in my head has taken care of that.
I've had the day off work, and I spent it in the kitchen, and on the couch (watching tv randomly). In the kitchen making my (now) annual Lemon Meringue Pie. I still don't like birthday cake. Cloying, over-sweet icing made with shortening... Or I can have an all-butter crust with homemade Meyer lemon curd topped with meringue whipped up in my handy-dandy KitchenAid.
I'll have pie, please.
I feel very blessed. Not by 'God/dess' or anything, just... by the universe. I have made it through. I am no longer, not by a long shot, a child. I survived. Given the fact that humans are quite fragile in their own right, and I haven't exactly had it super-duper easy (not that I've had to work in a mine or anything, but the emotional abuse over the years?) Pssshhht... Bring it on. I survived. I have family I love, I have a painted man who still makes me blush and stammer like a schoolgirl, lovers I hold in my heart and in my head and in my hands. I love my friends, and I have no real enemies. I have people I don't like-just flat out don't like and will go out of my way to avoid, and I have people who are attracted to me, but I'm not attracted to them. Not in a sexual way, in a friendship way. Those people, they're outside my sphere.
I have others I'd like in my sphere, but they dance about the edge, just that infinitesimal amount of inaccessible. Such is life on this pale blue dot, and still we want.
I want.
And the next 42 years?
Bring 'em on!

Hello, 41!

I turned 41 last week. Last Thursday. And today is the last day of a 4 day weekend, to boot. Some good things happened. Some bad things happened. I had quite a few dirty thoughts...didn't act on a single one of them, more's the pity. That's OK though.

I used to view birthdays with trepidation. Not at the thought of growing older, since the body grows old, but the mind doesn't, the ideas don't, so it's not the 'age' thing that bothers me. Some of the age-isms bother me. Some so-called 'milestone' birthdays are meant to be enjoyable and/or feared. The first birthday, the 10th (double digits!), 16th, 18th, 21st. Those are all supposed to be enjoyable. The others, the decades or the '9' birthdays are supposed to be feared. They've even got black candles and armbands and you're supposed to throw a party to celebrate the death of your youth or some such garbage.  I've never found the 9s or the decades particularly fearsome, personally.  No, I used to view birthdays with trepidation because it always came down to 'Will anyone notice or even care?'

My mother actually forgot my birthday one year. She thought it was still a week away, and I suppose it could be blamed on not looking carefully at the calendar. But I never had birthday parties growing up. The neighborhood kids came over for my 1st birthday (I've seen pictures). And growing up in Albuquerque, the neighbors came over for the obligatory cake and icecream. I'd go to parties, but wouldn't have them. And eventually, the question of whether or not anyone noticed became a moot thing.

Since I'm the center of my own universe, I noticed and that was what mattered. I started requesting the day off work, since I really didn't want to work on my birthday. When I was dating Idiot, we'd go out to eat on my birthday, and I'd end up paying*. Eventually, I started buying myself gifts or taking myself to lunch or dinner. Henry Rollins tickets became a big birthday purchase for me. Once with Idiot and once on my birthday by myself, then once here with Sic-un. Sic-un and I went to the circus, too. I took Toaster to dinner on my birthday before I left Albuquerque. It was a good dinner. 

This year, I took the day off work. Didn't sleep in, no, not this insomniac. I was up at 8:15 or so. Sent Sic-un off to work. Lazed about, went to the store, made a Meyer lemon meringue pie. Yes, lemon meringue pie. It's become my own little tradition.  I don't like birthday cake. Cake and ice cream together has always been a bit of a 'meh'. The frosting is always suspect, and ice cream is what it is. Neither ends up being very good. So I started making lemon meringue. This time it was Meyer lemons. I'm thrilled the local grocery is carrying them. And it's for the same price as their loose lemons.

The meringue came out as the thickest, foamiest, firmest I've ever made. I really like the way it turned out. I stuck my finger in it to check texture and it was like touching shaving cream. That thick, rich, pure foam consistency. I also boiled the lemon filling longer than the single minute all the recipes call for. I must have gone 3 or 4 minutes boiling. It's not that it hurt it or anything (constant stirring, good heat management), but I will say the pie is NOT weepy at all. There's a definite difference in the filling. All I can do is point at the boil time and remember it for next time (thicker filling=longer boil time)

Once the pie was out of the oven, then it was into the shower to get ready for dinner. Sic-un took me to Big Ed's for pizza. 2 small pizzas, pitcher of Amber Bock. Got a parking space right out front, too, which NEVER happens. Sic-un told the waitress it was my birthday. They don't sing to you (thank the GODS OF SINGING!)... They give you a t-shirt instead. We came home. Friday, Sic-un had the day off. We ended up cleaning a lot of stuff. The weather has thrown Sic-un's back for a loop again. The bathroom ceiling is no longer brown! The house smells good! Looks good! CLEAN!

Why the cleaning jag?
(ahem)
We had a cookout. Saturday. Yesterday. Yes. Yesterday. Invited friends over. We had people over for dinner. Yeah. We had a cookout. If you want, consider it one of Hyacinth's candlelight suppers without candles and a cookout instead.  J2-who's not as free-range as he may think, Grasshopper, J, someone new from work-Let's call her Harmony, my Japanese shark. Burgers! Potato salad! We'll provide beer, vodka, sweet tea, juices and lemonade. BYOB if you want something diff.

I was hoping Harmony would show up. She's... She's Harmony. One of the few women I would give my eyeteeth to go to bed with. She's HAWT. She didn't. J2 showed up...with his ex in tow. He calls her his ex, they are no longer living together, he wants Grasshopper... His ex is SCARY. She's seriously mental. And she doesn't think they're so very broken up. Grasshopper showed up. We had burgers.

I was drunk.

Seriously, totally wasted drunk. On not very much, actually. I started drinking around 4. Had a vodka lemonade. Had vodka lemonade #2 starting about 5ish. Was plastered by the end of the drink, which was somewhere around 6. Seriously plastered.
And here's how fucking mental J2's ex is.
I was sitting at the coffee table eating pie-it was delicious, and trying very hard to concentrate on the pie. I was drunk, recognized I was drunk, and I wanted pie. My head got hot, I started deep breathing (not nauseous. NOT NAUSEOUS, really. just hot-head), put my head down on the table (it was cool).
J2's ex started talking about getting sick and being sick and throwing up. Even after being told to stop.
Needless to say: I spent the rest of the party in the bathroom puking out that loverly hamburger and what pie I had managed to swallow.
I think she did it because she enjoyed it.

Now. Onto my presents to myself. I did myself a huge favor on Thursday and took 3 pictures of myself. All fully nude, one each forward, side and back shots. As a result, Tai chi starts next Saturday. And I may be getting a gym membership. I'm certainly going to be eating better (more veggies, less soda, more evenly spaced meals rather than 1 meal a day). I have done myself a great disservice and mean to rectify it. I think I have one more chance to see what I can do. I'm giving myself a year. With regular check-ins to make sure my body is doing what I want it to. At the end of a year, I promise I'll post the starting photos and the results.

And once I get relatively thinned out, I'm going to jump J2. Not as a boyfriend, but as just a guy I wanna fuck. And I'm gonna see about getting Harmony nekkid, too. I wanna see what I can do to make her scream.

Onto the age-isms next.
NO, I'm not on my 12th anniversary of being 29. I'm 41. FORTY ONE. I don't feel bad. I'm obese, but that's my own damn fault. I do not need nor want wrinkle cream, a face lift or liposuction***. I do dye my hair, but that's because the grey I do have makes it look dirty even when it's freshly washed. I am not pining for my lost youth, and quite frankly, from 25 to 35 was spent in my own little depressive hell. I wouldn't go back to that time FOR ALL THE MONEY IN THE NATIONAL TREASURY. I'm smarter now than I used to be. I don't want or need your stupid cholesterol medication**. I don't have kids, so I'm not looking at them graduating school. I don't have grandkids, so I don't have to babysit. My bowels are regular and my laundry is doing fine. I don't want OR need your stupid marketing. And if someone tells me I'm one day closer to dying...YES! So are you, dear sir and/or madam!

Life is fatal. The act of being born means you will die. The shell gets old, but the mind doesn't. I'm having more unadulterated FUN now than I have before in my life. I have a wonderful, loving partner that I plan on spending the rest of my life with. I have 2 (count 'em!) boyfriends I care deeply about. I have a bestie, and I have GOOD friends. I'm happy and horny and relatively healthy- in spite of the obesity: my blood pressure is fine, I'm not diabetic, and I haven't had a heart attack. The aches and pains aren't debilitating, and I'm looking at getting better.

I think this is going to be a good year.


*His excuse was that I made more money than he did, so he'd drive to the restaurant, I could pay for the meal. He would suggest renting a movie and we'd end up doing nothing but sitting on the couch all night. NOT the most exciting of times, but I was locked into a depression. I had no clue. And nobody pointed out the wrongness of this.
**I actually heard a commercial for one of the 'statin' drugs that doctors are handing out like candy and I paid attention. They said in their little disclaimers that it HELPS you keep your cholesterol down when diet and exercise aren't enough. They, of course, mean when you don't watch your diet and you don't really exercise. I say this because if I'm exercising the way I'm supposed to and I'm eating the healthiest I can eat, I won't NEED your stupid medication.
***Liposuction: "Let me cut into you and suck out fat and blood vessels." Everyone I've ever seen who has had liposuction OR who has had the belly band INSTEAD of losing the weight naturally looks like a weird bobblehead.

LIIT at a birthday...

J2 (the newly free-range J2) had a birthday this weekend. A bunch went to the Urban Bar & Corner Cafe in Knoxpatch. I was invited (!), as was Sic-un. It always surprises me when people want to Hang Out. One of the bunch is a new friend...Let's call her Grasshopper. She is rather like a grasshopper, bouncy and smart. She is a smidge naive, and just got out of a rather toxic relationship, same as J2. J2 wants the Grasshopper. Grasshopper (rightly so, IMO) has put the kybosh on any relationship status change right now. She wants to enjoy being single. She wants to get some ya-yas in. I can SO understand this, and applaud her for saying 'I want!'. Apparently, the douche she just broke up with went so far as to tell her she couldn't buy a dildo...After all, wouldn't she just prefer the dildo to him? He is a douche and she is better off. And I'm glad I know her. She's fun!
So who are these people?
I went with J2 and J-they're roommates. You know J... J of the pretty dick? One of the boyfriends. And that's how I'm referring to the people that I sleep with outside of my relationship with Sic-un, who is my Partner. Sos-u is a boyfriend. J is a boyfriend.
So we 3 went to pick up Grasshopper. J was the designated driver, J2 was planning on getting drunk as was Grasshopper. I was planning on Going Out, like normal people do. I tend to get very insular and be a home-body. Hence the surprise when people want to Hang Out. Dressed up.
Yes...I dressed up.
Black knee boots, leggings, pullover long-sleeve teal shirt, black cardigan... I looked good. Hair.. Um, I recently cut my hair. It's back to being short. And apparently I did a really good job. People keep complimenting me on it, so I think it looks ok. I did notice a ton of grey in it when I was cutting it, so I did a color to it. Still dark honey blond (well, maybe a medium honey blond), but no longer grey through it.
And makeup. Hair was spiked up.
So I looked good, and Sic-un had given me carte blanche for the evening. Didn't do a whole hell of a lot of good, since my period was this weekend (but it means it's NOT going to be here NEXT* weekend!), but I flirted and had a good time. People seem to like me and it always stuns me. It really does. I smoked way too much and drank 7 Long Island Ice Teas (LIIT). I have also vowed to never again wear high heels while drunk.
Why? You ask.....
You would ask, Dear Reader.
When I drink, my knees have a tendency to lose functionality on stairs.
Mostly on stairs.
And there are a lot of stairs at Urban.
So my knees are bruised and scraped.
And, sad to say, somewhere along the line, my right toe was dislocated.
See?--->
I think I have it snicked back into place, and I have it taped up and I'm going to be wearing hard-soled clogs for the next few days (stiff soles. Works wonders). It hurts, but...
I had a good time. I hope to continue being social.

Now. NEXT weekend...
Thursday I turn 41 by the calendar. I'll still be about 8 in my head, but the calendar says I'm going to be 41. I'm planning on making a lemon meringue pie and that's it. That's all I have planned, except for hitting Big Ed's Pizza for dinner-you get a free tshirt on your birthday. I don't have to work, nor on Friday, and Sic-un is taking Friday off. We're both off Saturday and Sunday.
Saturday morning, the local Tai Chi Society is holding an Open House. And! And!
They have a class starting on March 5 that I can actually attend! At hours that aren't too horrendous! It's the reason why I haven't taken a Tai Chi class before. I was thrilled to learn the Tai Chi Center is right there when I moved to this loverly little town. However, all the class times for Beginner were at times when I was at work. Why Tai Chi? With the change of the calendar comes the realization that I have one more chance to get somewhat mobile. I say one more chance because I have started noting stupid little aches and pains that just weren't there before. I can't help but think a good stretch will help wonders. Some activity. And Tai Chi is supposed to be absolutely wonderful for balance and flexibility. Sic-un is going with me, at least to the open house, and he's remaining open minded about the class.
I'm not hoping for a miracle cure for his back, but I'm hoping for some pain easing for him.

Sos-u.Worth the wait. Definitely worth the wait. Definitely. Stunning kisser, good hands. He's cuddly. Puppy-pile this weekend. I drunk-texted him from the bar, he said he'd be asleep on the couch. Ended up puppy-piling. He's cuddly.

And what do I call him? Friends with benefits doesn't quite fit the situation, with him being my partner's son. Hence the realization last night that I have a Partner and I have 2 Boyfriends. I like my life right now. I'm having fun, my mind is engaged, I'm looking good, and I'm taking steps to get even better.
I'm looking forward to the next year, see what it will bring.

Lordy, lordy, look who's...

...(all together now!) forty!
Ahem.
Or soon to be. Tomorrow, in fact. I won't jump the gun or anything, but I'm almost positive I won't feel any older tomorrow than I did this morning. Which leads me in a roundabout way to when I first had that thought, 1978, my first tentative steps into the idea that time just might be fluid. I didn't feel any older on that chilly morning than I did before going to bed, indeed going back even further, I couldn't remember ever feeling different on my birthday. So I settled.

I'm eight. But time, although fluid, generally flows in one direction and the ravages aren't so easy to get rid of.

I share my birthday, or shared, with my great-grandmother. She would be 110 tomorrow. She was 65 when I was born. Her name was Helen. I almost share my birthday with one of my cousins. One of my kissing cousins, in fact, not that I've ever kissed her. It simply means her mom is my mom's sister and her dad was my dad's brother. We share enough of the same genes that a DNA sample would say we're sisters. She is 2 years older, and could be called Myrtle-the-Fertile-Turtle, but that may be cruel. She has...4? 5? Something like that. Enough for both of us, is what I say.

I've settled in my skin.

Someone asked me the other week why I didn't have children because they were such a joy. I told her she just got done telling me they decided to rip apart all the drawers in the house and she was waiting to mete out punishment. Why would I bother? Let them be your joy, I'm happy with none.
And I am. I'm being selfish, yes, and a drain on the resources of this country, not even daring to replicate myself to take my place in society when I retire or die, whichever comes first. The world is bearing me now. What happens when I die is whatever happens. I won't care. I'll be dead. And no use wanting me to feel guilt or shame or fear at the imminent demise of Yours Truly. Can't do it. Life is fatal. Everyone dies. Besides. Look at China. See what's happening there? They were so intent on 'A boy to carry on the family honor' or name or some such nonsense and killed quite a few of their girls.....There aren't enough women now. So much for replicating themselves. I kind of welcome it. I look at my car and my clothes and my house and I get food at the grocery store and-and-and... It is a strange kind of guilt for the rock we happen to be hurtling through space on. The bees are dying. Did nobody think to ask if they liked the flavor of the genetically modified produce? Bats are now getting white-nose, a fungus that wakes them from their hibernation to starve because it is still winter. I'm sure something humans have done is causing this. Perhaps the proliferation of molds and super-molds that we are unleashing upon the world. Don't tell me about 'carrying on the genes'. Don't buy it. Don't drink that particular koolaid, OK?

I have settled into being human.

We're having steak for dinner, with mashed potatoes and green salad. Tomorrow's dinner is up in the air. I have no idea if I want to cook or eat out or just get burgers or take out and just eat here or what. The birthday cake is not, it's actually going to be a batch of Lemon Bars (it's a box. I'm making a box mix of Lemon Bars because I'm being lazy on my birthday. I can highly recommend the Krusteaz mixes.). No candles. Meh. I'll light some incense.

I have settled into being selfish enough to be lazy on my birthday.

I washed dishes last night, I'll do them again before cooking dinner. It tends to keep them down to a manageable level. I don't like standing for hours at the sink. Steaks in the Lodge (TM) grill pan, potatoes from a box (hey, I watched how they're made on How It's Made, they're safe), salad to cut/tear into bowls. Laundry is in, whites still left to do and Sic-un just got home from work.

I'm 40. My hair is greying, I'm starting to ache in the cold. I don't particularly like what I do for a living and would really like to win the lottery. I have a man who loves me and I'm doing OK. This is pretty OK.

Thirty Nine...

...and I woke up this morning wondering the same thing I've wondered since I was 8. No, I don't feel any different. Not really. There have been changes, but I don't feel different.

And I'm old enough to say once and for all.....


...I don't like birthday cake and much prefer lemon meringue.