After my almost mind-erasing day at a near miss bad opportunity, I was fixing to write that I object to the premise that I am getting older. I wanted to loudly say that I will not be defined by my birth certificate or by my crinkled up eyes.
Please don’t tell my husband, he is a Fox News kind of guy, but I’ve been following a series on The Huffington Post about women reinventing themselves post age 50. The funny thing is, I wonder when I got to the point when this would catch my attention. Sure, technically I am a baby boomer by a few months, but does that mean I need reinventing? I’m not entirely sure I’ve ever invented in the first place. And most importantly, does it mean that I need to change the name of my blog?
Today I had a few appointments that I needed to take care of. First, a meeting, an opportunity (again, sigh) then a quick trip home to pick up my little guy. Second, a trip to see a house that my sweet daughter has her eye on. She has called her agent to have him meet us there. Blogging was going to get a go somewhere during the course of all of this, after all, I have a Friday at Four publishing goal to meet.
Tidied up the house, dressed in something other than yoga pants, brought in the dog. But where are my car keys? Really?
I need to reinvent car keys.
You see, for my wedding anniversary, I sent my husband away to play golf. To get away and do something normal when things haven’t really been normal lately. Hopefully, I sent him off with two sets of keys. But I can’t be sure until he gets home. Perhaps instead of anticipating my Phoenix rising from the ashes and reinventing my whole life…this old bird just needs to remember to put my keys in my purse.