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December 20, 2014 is my 50th birthday. And, I’d like to just say WTF?

Today, December 19th on BLUNTmoms, the day before I hit that half century mark, my newest guest post goes live. Guess what it’s about? Ageing, getting old, being old, having grey hair in places you don’t want to think about, talk about, look at, or read about, and other cringe-worthy but laughable things about ageing. Go read it. And laugh. It’s hilarious if I do say so myself. Strap in though, it’s not for sissies.

Meanwhile, on my personal blog, life is pretty fucking good. Yes, everything hurts all the time. The knees, and, wait, what was I saying? Oh, and my muffin top is no longer a mini-muffin. It is now Costco sized and shows little signs of diminishing. Whatever, I’m fifty. I can do what I want and I can afford SPANX. The best part about getting older though? You can stop giving a shit. You can be yourself.

The other day, my web site broke. Shit hit the fan. All my links broke because this old lady didn’t know we don’t use “www” anymore. Since fucking when? I didn’t get that memo. Oh, and by the way, nobody sends memos anymore, they send texts. I had “www” in front of every link for every post on every external site and WordPress finally said “Uncle.” My page wouldn’t load. So, I sent sheepish emails to each editor: please change the links, I’m broken. And, while I waited for tech support to fix their end, I manually changed over 65 individual links on BlogHer, which was good because the next day, they featured one of my posts. So, more traffic to fixed links. Phew. And, more grey hair sprouted.

Then my menopausal brain made a connection. My 200 new business cards had just arrived, each one emblazoned with “www.” Do you know how long I agonized over those card proofs? Too long. And yet, not long enough.

So, like the assertive, ask, the-worst-they-can-do-is-say-no-kind-of-gal-that-I-am, I called Moo.

“How can I help you?” asked the young-enough-to-be-my-son customer service guy.

“I’m not sure if you can, but I’ll tell you what happened,” and then, because I was feeling chatty, I told him how my week had gone haywire.

I had inadvertently told my kids that Santa didn’t exist. Read that story here Goodbye, Santa: The Year Mom Ruined Christmas and have a laugh. And, I was excited and nervous about my upcoming birthday. When I said it was my 50th, he said the best, most truly spontaneous thing, “Wow, that’s so cool. You, like, know stuff. And, you’re so charismatic; I’m going to reprint that order for free.”

And pigs flew and I thought, you’re damn right dude, I know stuff.

In that moment, that was the sweetest thing he could have said. Yes, my bones ache more now than 20 years ago. Yes, my jeans are a bigger size now than when I was 25. And yes, I have grey hair, both on my head, and in places you don’t want to know about. But, I like, know stuff.

Happy 50th Birthday to me. My kids forgave me for spilling the beans on Santa, and while I may not be running marathons, I am blogging them. And, I’m excited about this next chapter in my life, except for the grey hair. And that’s why I have a great hairstylist.

See, I know stuff.


  1. What do you mean no more www??? You mean even in old posts? WTF indeed! Happy Birthday. 50 isn’t so bad when you are pushing closer to 65. Cheers


  2. claudiaschmidt2013 says:

    Hahahahaha! I love that he called you dude and said, you know stuff. Millenials are hilarious, and very respectful of us baby boomers for some reason. Happy day before your birthday, have a splendiforous day!!


    • Claudia, you must read the BLUNTmoms post. It is over the top. My younger sister read it and was speechless. I don’t think she knew I had it in me. I don’t think I knew I had it in me.


  3. Happy (belated) 50th birthday! Just remember, 50s is the new 30s 😉 & life is pretty pretty good!


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