Yesterday I turned 49.
You know what that means.
One year from today: 50
Yes, 5-0, just like SNL's Sally O'Malley.
In my posse, when you turn 50, they do this to you:
They force a Red Hat Society hat and boa on you, amongst other hiLARious treats.
But even though I woke up and found myself 49 yesterday, it was still better than when I awoke at 30.
When year 30 dawned back in 1992, I was 9 months pregnant. During the night, a blood vessel burst in my eye, and I looked as though I had bright red blood all over the white of my eye. My hair was permed. I had on a big, dark green maternity tent and was on my way to church. And someone snapped a picture.
Ever since then, he's been known as "Jorge the Lefty."
So in an effort to be the best I can be in this my final year in the decade of what I once foolishly thought was old but now realize is not, I registered for the Indianapolis Indy Mini-Marathon in May. This means I have about 200 days left to ready myself to run 13.1 miles.
I is kind, smart, important, old and I is CRAZEE.
Anyone else out there fall in the same category?