Making the Most of Turning Fifty

One consequence of turning fifty is the inevitable life review.  You can't help but contemplate what’s been important in life -- and what matters now.

These are the touchstones for ensuring a fantastic fiftieth year.   Here’s my list, so far:

1.  Experiences.

This is the essence of the 50 Frolics.  Throughout my life, I have enjoyed diverse experiences.  Opportunities to do different things, go difference places and/or interact with different people are intrinsically meaningful to me. Take my birthday, two days ago, for example.  It wasn’t about receiving presents, it was about doing fun things with my family.

2.  Creativity

Creative input and creative expression are the cornerstones in my life, personally and professionally. 

To ensure creative input is part of my fiftieth year, I’m promising to read (at least) 50 Books, to watch (at least) 50 Films and to listen (really listen) to (at least) 50 CDs.   Listening to 50 CDs may seem lame but remember how we used to listen to CDs in high school?  That’s my intention -- to give each CD my undivided attention.  To put on my favorite music and focus on the lyrics, the melodies, the cover art, the liner notes.

As for creative expression, I’m committing to do (at least) 50 Creative Projects this year.  One is this blog.  Another is working through Julia Cameron’s Vein of Gold.  At the moment, I have my tools and supplies assembled to make a necklace this afternoon.  At some point, I need to make a string mural on the entry wall at our farm.  46 to go.  (Feel free to send me ideas).

3.  Friends

Like most humans on the planet, I love my friends.  As someone without siblings, my friends were exceptionally important during my childhood, youth and teen years.  As an adult, besides being a source of fun and merriment, they’ve been a tribe of support, wit and wisdom as we’ve lived our lives.

This past year has reaffirmed just how important they are:  when my mother passed away dear friends jumped in their cars and drove five or eight hours to attend memorial concert.  They showed up at my mother’s house, rolled up their sleeves and helped me through all that needed to be done.  People I haven’t seen for 31 years dropped by my mother’s house, donned gloves and dust masks and set to work. Those who couldn’t be there in person phoned or Skyped or otherwise participated long distance. My friends got me through this trying time.

Of course I'd much rather spend happy times with friends -- thus the 50 Frolics.

And when I think of my closest friendships, I think of good old fashioned chin-wags.  Hours spent talking about every conceivable thing.  It doesn’t matter if we’re in the same room or blabbing on the phone or Skyping overseas...chatting with friends is an activity I adore.  So I’m promising myself (at least) 50 Chinwags during my fiftieth year.

4.  Kindnesses

I’ve been blessed with many kindnesses -- especially this past year.  It’s important to me to pay them forward. 

In the past, my volunteer efforts have focused on adult literacy and in fostering/training future Service Dog puppies.  Less formally, I’ve made and written special cards for those going through difficult times.  I’ve done some pro bono coaching/counseling.  I’ve helped friends and strangers in need -- random (and not so random) acts of kindness.

This year I’ll be looking for formal and informal opportunities for giving (at least) 50 Kindnesses.

5. Learning

I loved school all the way through from Kindergarten to grad school.  When I was in high school, I used to take extra classes at night, for fun -- things like ceramics and yoga.More recently, I’ve thrived on taking classes through the local colleges and Parks & Rec.

However, for the past few months, I’ve been dealing with mother’s estate 3000 miles away. I’ve been away a lot and haven’t been able to attend classes.  It’s the first time in a decade that I haven’t been on campus. It feels wrong.  

I’d love to promise to attend at least 50 Classes this year, but given the necessary travel, the challenges and the uncertainties of the work left to do on behalf of my mother, I hesitate to do so. It's a stretch to commit to something I don't know if I can carry off. 

6.  Water

Being near water is soothing and pleasing to me.  I grew up in an area with many freshwater lakes.  My summers were full of swimming, canoeing, waterskiing and generally frolicking in and around water.  My winters usually include trips to somewhere warmer where I could walk on a beach for miles a day. 

My unhappiest years were spent in grad school in a landlocked location.  My happiest years were spent in gorgeous, waterfront Vancouver.

There’s I reason I now live in coastal California. However, these past few years, I haven’t been taking advantage of it.  The beach is 40 whole blocks away, so I tend not to go there.

This year, is different, however.  Thanks to my recent life review, I am reminded about how important water has been to me...and how good it makes me feel to be near it.  So I’m resolving to make more of an effort to be near water.  Specifically, I’m committing to (at least) 50 Water 

Visits -- to spend some quality time, waterfront. My family’s romp on the Dog Beach on my birthday reaffirmed how wonderful it feels to be on the ocean.  I look forward to the next 49 Water Visits of my 50th year.

7.  Food

Food is my drug of choice.  I love to cook and I live to eat.  When I’m not eating, I’m thinking about my next meal or my favourite ingredients.

That being said, I do tend to make the same things repeatedly and to stick to a limited array of favourite ingredients.  So this year, I’m committing to make (at least) 50 New Recipes. This is a commitment to experiment with new dishes, to sample new ingredients and to diversify my nutritional intake.

*****

Now I’m sure my list is different yours -- which is why I encourage you to go through a parallel process to mine:  thing about what’s been important to you, what matters now, and decide how to apply it to make the most of your fiftieth year.  Please message me or use the comment box to tell me your ideas for making what’s important to you part of your fiftieth year.

This is Your Life

It started when making contact with my high school cohort:  childhood and teen reminiscences.  People remembered things about my childhood that I did not.  Apparently I invited my entire grade three class to come to my house so I could entertain them with a puppet show, for example.  

During the preparations for the party, the scavenging of vintage photos from long-forgotten albums and the conversations at the Birthday Bash, many memories were sparked and rekindled.

Unfortunately, my mother passed away unexpectedly one month before the party.  This meant that at the same time I was co-planning the party, I was also grieving and beginning the behemoth process of dealing with her estate.

My mother had a large house, packed to the rafters.  She never threw anything away.  Job One in managing her estate involved going through all her possessions and every document. My mother’s house harbored reminders of every age, every trip we took, every fad since the 1950’s. 

Going through my mother’s house became an unavoidable life review. 

I found the note my father left on my mother’s car, inviting her for a first date.  I found photos I didn’t know existed.  My childhood books.  Every birthday card I ever received as a child.  Every scrap of paper I brought home from school -- my artwork, my class notes,  my school projects, my cringe-inducing essays.  Awards and prizes I can’t remember winning.  The letter from the dogsitter explaining how my dog had died during one of our trips away.  Most of my toys -- my earliest dolls, my Easy Bake oven, my Spirograph set, my microscope, my hulu hoop. A painting done for me by a school friend who died ten years ago.

It was very difficult to go through everything.  (To be truthful, I’m not done yet.  I have eight more boxes of papers in the attic to excavate).  What I have seen has evoked every possible emotion. Discovery.  Joy. Grief. Pride.  Sorrow. Guilt. Dismay. Regret. Triumph. Wonder. 

It was a life changing experience. 

In addition to my 50 Frolics, I’m committed to complete (at least) 50 Creative Projects in my 50th year.  One of them this blog.  Another is working through The Vein of Gold -- Julia Cameron’s sequel to The Artist's Way.  The latter is a book that has meant a great deal to me.  It educated and inspired me.  It facilitated major insights.  It sparked me to leave the corporate world for creative pursuits.

I’ve purchased at least a dozen copies of the Artist’s Way.  Every time I ‘lend’ a copy to a friend, I end up having to buy a replacement.

I wanted to honour The Artist's Way during my fiftieth year...but I've re-read it and re-done the exercises so many times, it didn’t seem appropriate to go through it yet again. Instead, I’m opting to work through  The Vein of Gold -- the sequel to The Artist's Way and perhaps the only Julia Cameron book I haven’t yet read.

As luck would have it, one of the first exercises is a life review -- to divide up one’s life into five or ten year periods and jot down all the major players, factors, events and memories from the time.  I’ve been beautifully equipped for this task, having just gone through all the mementoes in my mother’s house. 

This exercise is more structured, however -- more guided and more fruitful.  It’s taken me a week but I’ve sketched out my first fifty years.  It’s been a draining, illuminating experience. 

I encourage you to do the same:  Clear some time to think about your life.  (This will take several focused sessions, so pace yourself such that you can give thoughtful reflection to each life chapter). What do you remember from ages 0 - 5? 5-10? 10-15? 15- 20? 20-25? 25 - 30? 30 - 40? 40 - 50?  Who were the key players? What were you chief activities? Amusements? Challenges? As you complete your notes from each time period, ask yourself for insights about yourself at that time:  what kind of person were you?  What was your chief motivation? Failing? What message would you give yourself at that time, if you could?

It Begins

I awaken on my 50th birthday to a bright, sunshiny day.  Brilliant blue sky, not a cloud in the sky.  Gorgeous lighting on the mountains, the chaparral, the leaves of our apple orchard.  It’s a perfect day, after a sketchy week, weather-wise.

I start the fire in the woodstove to warm the house.  As my first of 50 New Recipes this year, I make a ‘Giant Mushroom Popover’ from Mollie Katzen’s book Vegetable Heaven.  It turns out so-so.  Nice flavour but gummy texture.  It might be our oven.  It might be the fact we’re at almost 5000 feet elevation.  If I was a baker, I could figure out how to make it better next time.  For now, it doesn’t matter, I tried a New Recipe, which was the point.

Next up:  my First of 50 Frolics.  We load up the packsack with water and head up a nearby trail for a family hike together -- me, my husband Jean-Guy and our two dogs.  One is a three year old yellow Lab whom we fostered and trained as a puppy to be a future Guide Dog.  We adopted him when he was dropped from the program, due to his anxiety in cars. Our second is a rescued Labradoodle -- a comical clown who resembles a Dr. Seuss character.  I should point out that today is also his birthday -- his fourth.  

It’s a glorious day.  Bright blue, cloudless skies. Not too hot, not too cold.  The vistas look like Western movie sets.  We collect huge chips of pure mica from the trail.  We hike to the site of the 10/1 fire -- a fascinating, black moonscape scarring the surrounding chaparral.  As we walk home, we wonder aloud why we don’t do this more often.  It’s a lovely way to spend the morning and it’s so close at hand.  It’s a wonderful, fitting First Frolic for my 50th year.

When we return home, I’m shocked to see it’s already noon.  We take quick showers and Eric makes pasta dough in preparation for our evening dinner.

We pack the car with towels, dog food and toys and race towards Solana Beach.  As we drive, it’s clear our original game plan of lunch at the dog-friendly cafe plus shopping plus time at the dog beach was too ambitious.  I kiss lunch and shopping goodbye, knowing that the Dog Beach Frolic is the most important option for our day.

When we stop for gas in Temecula, I purchase our lunch:  Pringles and Dots to be consumed as we drive.

We go directly to the Dog Beach.  Although it’s a holiday weekend, we find a primo parking spot, no problem.  When I go to buy the parking pass, I’m temporarily stumped by the technology.  Instantly, a man arrives to help me sort things out to successfully purchase the parking pass.

We spend an hour and a half on the dog beach, throwing balls for the boys, walking beside the surf, taking photos.  The waves are perfectly lit in the late afternoon sun.  The boys’ light fur glows.  Their reflections in the wet sand are like mirror images.

We are, all of us, delighted.  A perfect family frolic.  One day:  two of my 50 Frolics.  I couldn’t be more pleased. 

Sandy, damp and content, we drive back to Temecula.  I check my phone messages, expecting at least one birthday greeting.  There are none.  Under normal circumstances, I’d be crushed.  But not today.   I'm thrilled to know that the focus for my 50th is not just today but my Fifty Frolics throughout the year.

When you stop and think about it, it is rather random that we celebrate birthdays, of all things.  It’s not like we had anything to do with it. 

To illustrate my point, consider this foreign custom:  In Hungary, they don’t celebrate birthdays, they celebrate ‘Name Days’.  Everyone who’s named, say, ‘Istvan’, parties on a proscribed day of the calendar.  Those named ‘Erzebet’ celebrate on a different official celebration day.  All the name days are mapped out on an official calendar of some sort.  There are gifts and cards and cake and get-togethers -- all designed to celebrate what someone got named.  Again, it’s not like they had anything to do with their parents’ choice in nomenclature.

Anyway, my point is that our focus on birthdays is just as random as celebrating what we were named or where we lost our first tooth -- we had very little to do with it.

En route back to the farm, we stop for supplies.  As part of my commitment to treat myself to (at least) 50 Treats this year, I buy myself fresh flowers plus the fixin’s for a fave salad:  bocconcini, vine-ripened tomatoes and fresh basil.  The basil comes in a little pot -- it’s still growing so should be a treat for many days to come.

We drive back to the farm. 

We scramble to attend to everything at once:  sorting the boys, making a fire, making fresh pasta, prepping ingredients for Marsala pasta sauce, making marinated and fresh salads, setting the table.

It’s fun evening.  Favourite music plays as we slurp our Gin & Tonics, turn the crank on the pasta machine, roll the dough through to thin it and cut it into fettuccini, then hang it on the pasta drying rack. 

Our meal turns out divine and delicious.  Nothing beats homemade pasta -- or salads made with the freshest of ingredients.

I open a nice bottle of wine to toast the day.  It’s been the best birthday I’ve had in several decades. 

And the celebration of my 50th year is only just begun.

What about you?  How did you spend your 50th?

The Party

When 2011 rolled around, it occurred to me that I’d be turning (cough) fifty this year. Knowing that I wasn’t the only one, I emailed my cohort to see who was planning what parties.

My fervent, secret hope was that someone would be hosting a 50th party in the summer in their cottage. Cottage parties were a staple of our teen years in Canada -- fun, crowded, waterfront get-togethers that involved water sports, barbecue, drinking and board games -- many of my favourite things. Hopefully, there would be one (or more) such events planned...to which I intended to finagle an invitation.

Through a sequence of emails, it became clear that (a) people were keen to co-celebrate our 50th and (b) there were too many of us to be accommodated at a cottage.

Somehow, I found myself inadvertently co-planning a joint 50th birthday party for people who graduated high school together in our year. That we hadn’t seen most of us in 31 years was beside the point. It seemed to make sense to celebrate our milestone together.

I volunteered to handle the communications -- the evites and information dissemination about the party. Job One was to collect the email addresses for the 400 people in our graduation year. I had a list from 2002. I sent a trial email and 95% of them bounced back as undeliverable. Turns out nine years is a very long time to keep the same email address.

Next of us in the Birthday Bash Organizing Group started emailing and Facebooking everyone we were in contact with from our high school days -- and asking for the contact information they had on anyone else. Organizing Group members who lived in our hometown started making the rounds and spreading the word.

I also had telephone numbers from 2002, so I started calling nine year old phone numbers, in an effort to make contact. Luckily, phone numbers seem to have a longer shelf life than email addresses.

It was unexpectedly fun to call people, out of the blue, after 31 years.

“Maureen?”

“Yes.”

“This is voice from the past.” (I felt it kind to give some sort of context). “It’s Liisa Kyle calling.”

“Omigod!”

My purpose in calling was simply to obtain a viable email address -- but rarely did I get off the phone in less than twenty minutes. The ensuing conversations were happy and heartfelt chitchats that sketched the intervening three decades.

After a few such calls, I felt I was already participating in the Birthday Bash.

Another point: it was unbelievably fun to call people out of the blue from long ago...and I wouldn’t have done it without some valid reason. Take Maureen for example. When I joined Facebook, I tried to find her. She wasn’t on Facebook but a Google search revealed her present location and occupation. Now I certainly *could* have called her, out of the blue...but I didn’t. Whereas, the looming 50th provided an excellent excuse to make the call.

As a result, I learned something. Now, when I think fondly of someone from my past, I have no qualms about calling them, out of the blue for no good reason other than to say, “I was thinking about you and wanted to call.” It’s ample excuse.

A second lesson:  I could use turning fifty as an excuse to do things I want to do.



Back to the Party. Thanks to months long efforts by a dozen people, we planned an afternoon gathering at the town beach, a golf scramble, a happy hour and dinner at the Golf Club. There was music and dancing. There were decorations. There was a Powerpoint presentation of vintage photos rolling in the background. We even had commemorative attire -- embroidered ball caps, T-shirts and golf shirts.

It was a damn good party. It was unbelievably fun to reconnect with people. The atmosphere was festive and joyous.

It was such a success that the folks who graduated the year after us have already consulted with us so they can do the same thing for their cohort.

What about you? Have you planned a special event to mark your 50th? I’d love to hear about it -- leave a comment or message me.

Fifty New Recipes

Two days before my birthday, I’m undeniably excited -- like a little kid.  This is unprecedented in the past few decades so already the 50 Frolics are having a positive effect.  Unlike most years, I’m not sunk in depression.  I’m not suicidal.  I’m actually looking forward to turning fifty...because of the promise of (at least) Fifty Frolics this year.

I’ve also promised myself other treats.  I’ve examined what’s important to me.  What I truly love. Especially those things I tend to let slip by, undone.  I’m committed to incorporating these elements into this next twelve months.  For example:  I’m going to read (at least) Fifty Books.

Another goal:  to try (at least) Fifty New Recipes.  I love to cook...and I tend to fall back on my favorites.  My intention this year is to expand my repertoire.  For one thing, it’s an opportunity to flex my creativity in the kitchen.  For another, it’s healthier to eat a more diverse range of foods. 

Since we’ll be at our farm on my birthday -- half an hour from town -- going out for a birthday breakfast is far less likely or desirable than making something at home. I’ve combed through my cookbooks to find something special as my first meal of my fiftieth year -- and the first ‘new recipe’ to chronicle on my list.

I adore savoury egg dishes so my first idea is ‘cheese souffle’.  I’ve never made one and would like to have the experience. 

I look up several recipes and am appalled by the number of eggs required.  My husband Jean-Guy is allergic to eggs, I don’t want to make a souffle that serves many people, as I’ll be the one eating it all.  Alas, i have no recipes for individual souffles.  Even Jean-Guy’s dog-eared copy of the classic Joy of Cooking fails me.  They seem to only cook for families of four or more.  And I have no internet connection here at the farm so I can find single serving recipe options.  I move on. 

In an Italian cookbook, I find a bizarre recipe for a souffle that calls for only three eggs.  Alas, it is a Lettuce and Pea Souffle.  Yup.  Lettuce and Pea.  Way to start of my new year with something possibly digusting (Lettuce and Pea?!) AND disastrous (souffle).  However, in the spirit of ‘trying new recipes’, I’m seriously contemplating making it.  It is Different.  It is certainly a New Recipe.  Everything I’ve made out of this particular Italian cookbook has been divine.  Besides, whether or not it’s a success, it’ll be a novel experience, which is really the whole point, now, isn’t it?

Full of mad resolve, I add ‘peas’ and ‘milk’ to our shopping list for when we go to town.

It’s not until we return from town, with peas and milk, that I think to see if we have a souffle dish. 

I look.  We do not.  I now have the ingredients for Lettuce and Pea Souffle, but no vessel in which to cook it.  My spouse suggests I cook them in a muffin tin.  I’m no baker.  I have no idea if that will work.

I thumb through more recipe books.  I find one for a Giant Mushroom Popover -- another New Recipe that sounds interesting. It also uses ‘only’ three eggs...and makes only 2 or 3 servings...rather than the six servings promised by the Lettuce and Pea confection, so the popover would make more sense, from a leftover perspective.

This is feeling like more work and angst than I would like it to be.  I decide to delay the decision until I awaken on 11/25.  See what I feel like.

What about you?  What would make your 50th year special?  I've love to hear about it -- leave a comment or message me.

What Kind of Frolics?

Having committed to enjoy (at least) Fifty Frolics this year, it’s lovely to imagine the possibilities: outings and daytrips and adventures of all sorts.

My top priority is to inform my closest friends about my plan...and to conscript them.

When I call Ellen, she’s on board immediately.

“I’ll be in San Diego for a conference in April,” she said. “We can get a good frolic in before or after.”

“Super!” Over the past decade, we’ve made a point of getting together for a frolic whenever Ellen’s work brings her to SoCal. This was a perfect first promised frolic.

“And I’m renting a house on a beach in Rhode Island in June,” she said. “Do you want to come visit for an East Coast frolic then?”

“Oh boy, do I!” One phone call, two planned frolics.

Another friend I surprises me. She’s a fun person with a quick wit and lover of life. When I phone her to tell her about my plan for 50 Frolics, my announcement is greeted with silence.

Crickets.

“Um. What’s up,” I ask. You don’t like the idea?”

“I don’t have any money right now,” she says.

I’m shocked and baffled by her response. Frolics don’t have to cost anything. We could go for a walk in the woods. We could explore some neighborhood close to where she lives. We could have a sleepover, with board games and whatever merry-making resources we find on hand.

“Well, um, I’ll think about it,” she says.

I take that as a no and dial someone else.

“Fantastic idea,” says Micky, immediately embracing the spirit of things. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

“What?”

“Bikram yoga.”

Now Micky has never struck me as the kind of person who would voluntarily join a 100 degree room full of strangers for an hour of contorting her body in unusual ways -- but apparently I’ve been wrong.

“Bikram yoga it is. I’ve wanted to try it too, but never got around to it. There’s a place not too far from here. I’ll find out when their sessions are.”

This would be ideal: something new, something we’d both been meaning to try ‘someday’...and now we were allowing my 50th as an excuse to actually do it. We schedule a Birkam Yoga frolic for the Monday following my birthday.

I hang up the phone feeling good. I’m off to a great start with several specific frolics already planned -- including unexpected activities such as Bikram yoga and beach time in Rhode Island. I can’t wait to see the frolics that other friends instigate during the year

...and there are plenty of solo options available to me, as well. I could explore cool neighbourhoods in and around the city. Around the farm I can hike, go horseback riding and wine tasting. When I’m in Canada, you can be sure some cottage visits, canoeing and waterskiing will be in order.

It’s going to be a great, frolic-filled year.

What about you? What fun activities can you line up to make this the best year ever?

Why Fifty Frolics?

I’ve spent a significant amount of thought this year, trying to come up with a great way to celebrate turning fifty.  Every idea has been vaporized by practicalities.

A party is a non-starter. My friends are too far flung.  My birthday is on American Thanksgiving so those within driving distance are otherwise occupied.

A day-trip is possible but not exactly desirable on a crowded, often frenetic, holiday weekend.

A get-away trip is possible and desirable under normal circumstances...however I’ve spent the past few months traveling back and forth 3000 miles to tend to my mother’s estate after her unexpected passing.  I’m tired of traveling and drained by the challenges of the situation.  I’ve used up the good graces of my dog-sitters.  My bank account is depleted from repairing my mother’s house.  Jetting off to the Pyramids or absconding to a beach-side Caribbean cabana just seems wrong.  

Rather than get frustrated by a so-so 50th birthday, I’m deciding that the day itself is less important than the year ahead.  Instead of focusing on having a great day -- and risking likely disappointment -- I’m committed to have a great year. 

So what would make this year special for me?  What do I love to do?  What would I love to more of?

The first thing that popped into my head was ‘frolics’.  I’d love to go fun places and do fun things. So why not commit to enjoy frolics throughout the year? 

As I think of it, I’m tickled by the possibilities:  frolics might be mini-adventures -- or opportunities for creative expression -- or athletic endeavors.  They could be done with others -- or solo.  They could be something completely novel...or something I’ve long adored.  I haven’t ridden a horse in a decade, for example.  Might it be time to (literally) get back on my horse?

Okay, so I’m on board with indulging in frolics throughout my fiftieth year.

...and as a way of keeping myself on track with my quest, why not aim to have a certain minimum number of frolics? But how many?  The answer is obvious:  Fifty. 

So I’m committing to enjoy (at least) Fifty Frolics this year.   And to ensure that I follow through, I’m documenting my efforts in this blog.

And I’m inviting you to join me in making this year -- if it’s your fiftieth or some other number -- the best year ever.  What do you love?  What would you like to more of this year?  Make a commitment to enjoy what you love.

Approaching a Milestone

It’s five days until my 50th birthday. I’m doing surprisingly well, under the circumstances.

My typical reaction to a milestone birthday is a tsunami of depressive symptoms, punctuated by existential angst, garnished with self-pity.

I coped with my thirtieth birthday by submerging myself in a vat of Merlot.

I dealt with my fortieth by an uncharacteristic, inexplicable shopping splurge.

“You went shopping,” asked my baffled husband. “You never go shopping.”

“I felt compelled to shop,” I confessed. “I can’t explain why.”

“You went shopping. You felt compelled to shop. And you bought a Matisse lithograph.”

“It seemed to make sense at the time.”

Milestone or no, my birthdays have left a lot to be desired over the past few decades. For one thing, they pale in comparison with the elaborate extravaganzas of my childhood. Did I mention I was an only child? Or that my mother’s creativity in party planning was limited only by the resources available in our town of 5000? Let’s just say that my birthdays were an eagerly anticipated event on our elementary school calendar. As I recall, one year someone tried scalping a couple of invitations and all hell broke loose.

These days, short of having Cirque de Soleil choreograph and perform something in honour of my birthday, I’m bound to be a tad disappointed. This is the excuse my spouse gives when explaining why we don’t do anything.

“If we go out, you’ll just be disappointed,” he reasons. “It won’t be good enough.” This is the curse of being married to a perfectionist: ‘Good enough’ is very, very rare. And if something won’t be ‘good enough’, why bother?

Besides, it’s not like we can throw a party. For one thing, my friends are

far-flung across the globe and not easily summoned. For those within driving distance, there is a different impediment. Alas, my birthday coincides with American Thanksgiving. (For those of you who live elsewhere, I hasten to explain that this is a huge family holiday involving mandatory plane travel, days of preparations, excessive eating and unavoidable football watching followed by a frenzy of premature Christmas shopping). There is no time or inclination during the four-day Thanksgiving weekend that allows for much in the way of a birthday celebration.

Oh sure, I get the odd token card or phone call. My buddy Debra reliably appears at my door bearing flowers, gifts and heartfelt enthusiasm. But otherwise, my birthday is typically a non-event.

During milestone years, having a birthday in the eleventh month of the calendar year has its own unique challenge. Basically I have to grapple with the impending age change over and over again as my friends go through the process during the intervening months. Picture a slow-moving steamroller, pointed my way, plowing down my friends en route.

And milestone years are a particularly nasty reminder of -- there’s no other way to say it -- aging.

It doesn’t help that I live in L.A. where aging is punishable by ostracism. Where plastic surgery is an amateur sport. Where real housewives make the Real Housewives look like fossils.

Do I really want to draw attention to my age in this milieu? I do not. Nor do I have the wherewithal to put together a special social event to advertise my exact decrepitude.

And 2011 is proving to be a particularly challenging year for me, in general. A few months ago, my mother passed away unexpectedly. My forty-ninth year has been grief-stricken, sleep-deprived and otherwise difficult as I do my best to manage her estate from 3000 miles away.

You can see why it’s odd, indeed, that I’m hurtling towards fifty and feeling fine about it. Actually looking forward to it a bit.

Why? Because I’m approaching it differently this time. Realizing the futility of having a terrific twenty-four hours, I’m not even trying. Instead, rather than focusing on the day, I’m shifting my attention to the year.

Specifically, I’m giving myself the gift of at least fifty frolics during my fiftieth year. I plan on using my fiftieth birthday as an excuse to have a whole lot of fun and to indulge in the things I love. And in doing so, I’m committing to making my fiftieth year on this planet my best ever.

If you’re turning fifty, I encourage you to do the same.

I'd love to hear about how you handle milestone birthdays. Tell me about it in the comments section -- or message me.