Monday, September 24, 2012

What are the odds . . . .

Turning 50 . . . the BIG 5 - 0 . . . over the hill . . . 50 is the new 30

Whatever. . .

The more time I spend on the this planet, the younger I feel.  Age, like weight, is simply a number.  And numbers are things we spend much of the first part of our lives trying to make obey rules.  Less than.  Greater than.  Adding.  Subtracting. Multiplying.  Dividing.  Shortly after we master these concepts about numbers, new and more confusing ones arrive on the scene.  For example, dividing by zero.  Quadratic equations, square roots and geometry.  Before long calculus and trigonometry join the game, and then everyone's favourite, Sadistics . . . err. . . statistics.  I admit it, I ditched high school math before having to deal with calculus or trig. 

I took my last math class sometime in my twenties.  A psych stats class that was required for my degree.  It was NOT a good time.  The professor, who was a million feet tall, dressed in the 3-piece suit look of the 80s with flowing Rapunzel hair to boot, paced the front of the room like a tennis ball between Federer and Roddick.  You could tell statistics was his religion.  Having just gotten out of one, as not in the mood for conversion.  Dutifully, I took copious notes, supplemented them with the notes my older sister took the previous semester when she took the class (also required for her nursing degree) and read the text book.  Just when I would feel a concept solidify in my hands, whoosh, it would get swept away into the haze of my brain.  I did pass the class. . . thankfully the professor was of the view that we could bring anything into the exams to help us, with the exception of someone who had previously gotten an A in the class.  Somehow the combination of my sister's old notes and tests and my own gut instincts got me a B. 

Now I am looking at the kind of math that makes Psych 2000 look like counting to 100.

I have now lived 50 years on this planet.  Five decades.  That works out to roughly 438,000 - - give or take.  Two thousand six hundred weeks (and consequently weekends!).  Of that time, I spent 9 years in post-secondary school of one kind or another.  Over 100,000 hours being a parent.  Over 170,000 hours being a wife. 

At one point over the past few years, I made up a bucket list.  I just looked back at it . . . and laughed.  I have now come up with a new list which I call:  What I'm going to do in my fifties!

1.   Finish writing the book I've been working on for the past several years.   Thumping around in my head for quite a while has been a novel.  I know the plot outline.  The characters talk to me at odd and random moments.  I just need to get the bloody thing down on paper.

2.   Fall in Love again and, more importantly, be successful at keeping love alive and growing over the long haul.  As they say:  Second marriages are proof that optimism outweighs experience. 

3.  Take my girl-child on a BIG adventure trip.  Right now we are planning to go to the U.K. the summer after high school, which would be 2015.

See, I told you it was a short list.

What didn't make the 'cut' were places where I'd rather not waste my energy: getting over my fear of heights, learning to play the piano, drive the Alaska Highway, do daily yoga.  One of the things I think I'm becoming is more focused.  And for the functional ADHA poster child, this is something I am proud of.  Now, if I can . . . . ooohhhh look a butterfly.

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