I’m turning 40.
There, I said it. YEAH, I SAID IT!
I mean, it’s not like people don’t at least suspect, right? I do have an 18-year-old daughter. Unless I had her at twelve (and I am from the South, so you never really know), you can kinda do the math.
(Unless you’re really bad at math, and if so I completely empathize with you. You and I were busy in school learning other stuff. BETTER stuff.)
Despite the combative nature of the Post So Far, I’m feeling oddly blasé about the number itself. I mean, I think I look fairly decent for my age, with only a few wrinkles to show for it. I am pretty happy with my life as it stands, and while I haven’t accomplished world domination (sadly) or sold a novel, I do feel like I’ve done and seen a lot.
You know what’s bothering me? The birthday. The ACTUAL day. Now, I love birthdays, and I usually don’t let mine pass without marking “Jenna Day” on people’s calendars and at least making sure to gorge myself on cake. And usually, celebrating on days other than THE date is totally cool.
But this one – the day of - feels like a big deal. More importantly, it feels like I need to make a big deal out of it, or I’ll sit at home feeling sorry for myself.
The original plan was simple: spend the evening with my very closest friends at one of the best restaurants in San Francisco: Gary Danko. Got reservations two months in advance, and was all set.
Then Life happened. (Thanks, Life. You’re great.) Fully half my very best friends had to pull out - all for very good reasons. And while there will be other celebrations (had the first of them last Saturday night – til 3am! Wheee!), I have to decide what to do with that night.
Right now, I can continue out with a smaller group to Gary Danko. Which would be great to cover for this blog. However, there is another, tantalizing option: I could take the Monday after my birthday (a Saturday) off, and go up to Mendocino for two days. Just me, the dog, a cute cottage and plenty of nice restaurants and spas. Mendocino would also be great to cover for the blog. (It would also, if we're being honest, not cost much more than GD.)
Cue: decision paralysis.
It’s not that I’m that upset about turning 40.
It’s that I hate making decisions. I am the master at avoiding decisions. Stupid decisions.
Want to make my decision for me? (You won’t be able to but good on ya for giving it the old college try, to mix cultural catchphrases.) Comment below!