Forty

Today is my fortieth birthday. This is considered a "milestone" birthday, though in true fashion, most of my friends who are in their 50s and 60s (or heading there shortly) assure me that 40 is "young". My body has given me signs this year that this may not be entirely truthful. However, I am sure they all wish to be young as well, so anyone younger must be...well, young.

 I went to a palm reader in New Orleans who told me I'd live to be 100. I hope she's wrong. 100 seems like a long time. Unless, of course, I have several great books waiting to burst out of me like an alien when I'm that age, assuming I'm not shot down by Parkinson's or Alzheimer's. Then I'm sure 100 won't be old enough. But I've got quite some time to find that out.

 I was greeted early this morning by a gift from the cat on the bedroom floor, which had to be cleaned up before anything else. Mother Nature, or perhaps Yahweh, has given me another gift, in the form of burning sinuses. Really, it seems like the kind of thing Yahweh would do. ("I will smote them with poisonous yellow powder from deceptively pretty flowers and weeks of no rain.") I'm going by track record here.

 I am optimistic, however, that things can only go up from here, unless gravity starts to take them down. I have arranged a shorter day at work, that will be punctuated by a lunch out with my co-workers. I don't know what I will do afterward, though--it will be a beautiful day outside, but I live in fear of the killer pollen.

According to legend, it rained the day I was born. My father had a boat in those days, and my family used to go fishing. My one sister told me that "I ruined a perfectly good fishing trip" by being born. A shame too--if she had been left adrift to fish instead of the alternative, her life might have been different. In any case, I strangely have no guilt about this, nor any shame about the fact that I share a birthday with Adolph Hitler, something else my family reminds me of from time to time, or at least used to. My astrological chart looks nothing like Hitler's. I had a sister-in-law when I was married who had the same birthday as me, and I can tell you that we were absolutely nothing alike. Many of you will say, "well, sure, astrology is BS." Like Aleister Crowley, though, I tend to think it has some merit, it's just that birthday sun signs are usually the only experience anyone ever has with astrology. It's much more complicated than that.

 But that is a digression. I've had many discussions lately with friends about what we will do when we "grow up". I have to wonder when that happens. I was sure it would have happened by this time. But I still have many things to pursue, like I did when I was younger. The difference is that now I have more limitations than I did when I was younger, at least in terms of finances and domicile. I should be grateful that everything else is a green light. I feel like I have more opportunity these days, not less, and more modes of expression.

 Now if I can just convince my body to be on the same page, I'll have achieved world domination by the time I'm 45. Or something like that.