Age? FUCK Age

I was thinking today how I'm verging on that age where I'll be able to start using the excuse "Oh, I'm not as young as I was" soon. I mean, really, there are people using that excuse at 35. It's ridiculous.

I figure anything before 45 as my "excuse threshold" would be insulting. I've survived being thrown headfirst off my scooter, thrown headfirst off a horse, three significant concussions, three major car accidents, shredded muscles, hand surgery, eye surgrey, and and more, like general klutziness, 'cos I'm Tuff.Yeah. Capital "t" Tuff.

But every now and then I start to understand why I always heard my parents whining about their bodies in their 40s. And I'm 33. But battle-worn, baby.

Nonetheless, somewhere along the lines, my mom decided for a "go" on the divorce, then she decided to ixnay the I'm-too-old excuse. At 45 she took the Power Squadron course and joined the local yacht club. By the time of her death at 57, from the age of 45 on, she'd scaled volcanoes in Turkey, climbed mountains in China, raced yachts in the Mediterranean, sailed the West Coast, and made the Medallion Club for sales in real estate (the license of which she obtain in those years, too).

And that's what I started thinking about earlier. Deciding you've had enough of the status quo and that you're taking action to affect change -- whatever the change might be, bit or small -- can happen at any age and still lead to fantastic dividends, depending how hard you're ready to chase that desire.

I mean, look at the folk art hero Grandma Moses. Took up painting in her 80s and her work today sells for almost six digits.

Life's good to the last drop. You know what I'm saying?

This weekend I spend four days working backstage in major productions, keeping madding throngs of children under my thumb. "YIELD. NOW. SILENCE."

Yeah, I can see why they'd think I'd have a handle on such things.

Anyhow. Just thinkin'. Nice to know I'm so far on this side of 40, let alone 60. I've been told by a friend or two over the years that my life reads like a book. The stories I should tell you. Maybe one day. That's what the other blog's for. I can't wait to conquer some more chapters. And, hey, look. Summer is just 48 hours away.

Fuckin' A. And I start it working backstage and helping little kids achieve their dreams of being stars... if only for an afternoon. What a fun little life I lead sometimes.