Being Forty

I turned 40 the other day. It came as quite a shock. I wasn’t expecting that much vomit.

Yes, in a sequence of events so crappy it could have been a verse in Alanis Morrisette’s “Ironic”, a day that was to contain magic, dancing and celebrations became a day of projectile vomiting, sweats and mumbled apologies.

I have no idea what happened. It could have been food poisoning. It could have been a 24-hour bug with really bad timing. At 7.00 on the morning of my birthday I was in the bathroom praying to the great porcelain god. As the day progressed, so did the illness and I ended up propped up on my mother, in the street, decorating the pavement like a drunk on a Friday night. Not a good look for someone who has been teetotal for nearly two years. And I threw up all over my nice new green dress. Don’t worry Barenaked Ladies fans, it’s not a real green dress (that’s cruel).

Being confined to bed and bucket on your birthday inspires much deep thinking. “Life is short” “Life is really short” “I’m going to die very soon.” “I WANT MY MUM!!” As the symptoms eased so did the melodrama, but I was left with a reminder that you never know what’s around the corner so that “living for now” business really is a good idea. It got me thinking about my future, my ambitions and creativity. The art materials gathering dust, the lack of blog posts and the general neglect of something that means a great deal to me.

So what does this mean? Well, it means as I ease myself into my forties I’m going to try to keep the creativity up; blog more, paint more, knit and play. I’m going to try to honour my ambitions and enjoy every minute of life, because rumour has it that now I’m 40, life has begun. Onwards!