Category Archives: Birthdays

Still Me at 50, Part 2: My Unshakable Truths from 20 to 50

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“Age is simply the number of years the world has been enjoying you!” – Unknown

As you age, you’re supposed to get set in your ways. I have to confess—I was probably just born that way. Call it an Aries trait, a firstborn quirk, or just plain bossy, but I like things the way I like them. Period.

As a college student, I remember creating a list with friends about what types of men were acceptable for dating. I’m pretty sure the list exists somewhere, but I clearly remember two of my contributions. One, never date a guy who wears cut-off jeans as shorts, and two, the most important dating rule ever, never date a guy with hair better than your own!

So it tracks that I’ve not only followed rules my whole life—but made a few of my own along the way. And while we definitely won’t talk about the times I broke them (that’s a whole other post), allow me to present: Anna’s 10 Rules for Living Well.

  1. Pizza is breakfast. Carrying a piece of pizza in your purse while you go early morning Black Friday shopping is not only acceptable—it’s genius. Bonus points if it’s sausage pizza.
  2. Wear black year-round. The color is a standard. It elevates every look, every time. If I had a uniform, it would be all black. I am probably wearing black right now. (My favorite color is red, by the way.)
  3. No response is a response. Read that again.
  4. I either win or I learn. There is no defeat, only new opportunities to know better or do better.
  5. Flowers die, buy plants instead. As a self-proclaimed black thumb, I have been on a lifelong journey to grow things. It is not easy, and I am not a natural by any means. Nothing brings me more joy than watching something bloom…even if I had to lose a few succulents and fiddle leaf figs to get there.
  6. You can drink coffee all day. Don’t listen to haters.
  7. Road trips are personal concerts. You won’t catch me on the phone chatting it up when I’m on a long drive. No, sir, I am running through my personal, carefully curated playlists and singing at the top of my lungs. You should, too.
  8. Add to cart. Online shopping trumps in-person shopping every day of the week and for every product under the sun. Free shipping is a must.
  9. Don’t yell, smile, and laugh instead. My children find this terrifying. I find it 100% effective.
  10. Tell people you love them—always. Make it awkward, keep it weird, say it often. Life’s too unpredictable to leave it unsaid.

I could go on and on, but I can’t reveal all my secrets. After all, my life motto is “you’ve got to have an ace in the hole.” Shout out to King George.

So there you have it—just a few of the personal commandments that make my little world spin smoothly. Some are silly, some are serious, and some (like purse pizza) are downright legendary. Turning 50 hasn’t made me softer on my rules—but it has made me prouder of the life they’re helping me shape. So go ahead, make your own list. Just promise me one thing: don’t ever date a guy with better hair than yours. That’s sacred.

ABOUT THIS SERIES: Still Me at 50 is a lighthearted look at life through the eyes of someone who’s not trying to reinvent herself—but maybe just tweak the coffee order. As I celebrate this milestone year, I’m reflecting on all the ways I’ve stayed the same (for better or worse), and laughing at how my younger self would probably high-five me for keeping it “real talk real.” These posts are part celebration, part confession, and all in good fun.

Still Me at 50: Just With Stronger Coffee and a Deep Commitment to Quality Breakfast Burritos

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“You don’t stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.”

— George Bernard Shaw

If you know anything about me, you know that I live to laugh. I credit this quality with helping me lead a happy, mostly peaceful, and unbothered life. I’m the kind of girl who would rather watch silly sitcoms than movies, prefers clever podcasts to dramatic series, and there’s nothing I love more than chatting with a quick-witted friend. So as I celebrate 50 years of life, I’m quietly chuckling at how little my personality has changed over the years.

I was a smiley kid, and I had a wonderful childhood. Comedy was built into our family—though I’m not sure every member of the household remembers it that way. I mean, I found a lot of things absolutely hilarious. I have too many funny memories to count, and thanks to my brothers, I was often the target of their practical jokes. One of the funniest parts now is looking back and laughing at the times I took myself way too seriously. My siblings will gladly tell you how ridiculously clumsy I was, making you belly laugh over the countless times I injured myself trying to do something sporty or just walk in a grocery store. Even today, the best part of going home is all the laughter. It’s in our DNA.

And speaking of DNA—one of the silly routines I’ve carried with me from childhood to adulthood is the importance of breakfast. I think it would warm my mom’s heart (and maybe even get a proud little smile) to know how her breakfast mandate stuck with me over the years. I even harp on my own kids about it. I can’t make travel plans without calculating when and where we’ll get breakfast AND coffee. I go to sleep thinking about breakfast AND coffee. I’ve even said out loud, more than once, “You know what I’m excited about?” That’s right: breakfast AND coffee. You’re laughing at me, but it’s true.

I hope I never stop laughing—especially at myself. Which brings us to the inspiration behind this blog post. Here’s a quick giggle for you. I remember being a 20-year-old college student, rushing into a campus building (coins in hand) to buy a crummy cup of coffee from a vending machine. All the while, I had scrambled eggs wrapped in a tortilla (protected by aluminum foil) tucked into the small pocket of my bag. That was my daily college breakfast. No amount of money could persuade me to drink vending machine coffee today. I still like my coffee strong, but it’s name brand and a whole lot more refined—and yes, I’ve definitely upgraded my breakfast burrito game, too.

At 50, I have leveled up, but make no mistake—I’m still that same girl laughing at her own clumsiness, with a heart full of gratitude, coffee in hand… and probably some salsa on her shirt.

ABOUT THIS SERIES: Still Me at 50 is a lighthearted look at life through the eyes of someone who’s not trying to reinvent herself—but maybe just tweak the coffee order. As I celebrate this milestone year, I’m reflecting on all the ways I’ve stayed the same (for better or worse), and laughing at how my younger self would probably high-five me for keeping it “real talk real.” These posts are part celebration, part confession, and all in good fun.

Don’t Know About You, But I’m Feeling 22

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Fav Baby Photo

Everyone is the age of their heart.  ~Guatemalan Proverb

I didn’t do anything as gaudy as send myself a birthday bouquet but I am about to break a few social mores.  That’s right, I’m saying it, “Happy birthday, to ME!” and I’m going to post photos of ME, and I’m writing a blog about ME 🙂  But I hope you’ll give me a pass…mostly because I AM the birthday girl.

Okay, to be clear, I’m not trying to solicit birthday wishes and/or gifts…but I just had to share a few thoughts about turning “the year before THE year.”  What????  Doesn’t make any sense?  Well, check this out:  Most of us know that turning 40 it’s a pretty big deal…as in it’s a pivotal moment (and not necessarily in a good way.)  And while I won’t be 40 until next year (2015), I did have a friend tell me that (NEWSFLASH)  turning “the year before THE year” is actually a pretty big deal, too!  I had no clue.  39 is a BIG thing…really?  Since when?  I guess…since now.

39 has been called the “creepy-creeper” birthday.  This connotation suggests that 39 is both undesirable and sneaky? Maybe even a little scary?  Sort of like you’re walking along…minding your own business…when this dreadful number jumps out from behind the bushes and boldly states, “Warning.  You’re about to cross over into old age!”  Or something like that.  Supposedly, at 39 this is the last year that I can be considered somewhat “young.”  I’ve been told that I’ve now entered the final months where it’s even somewhat socially acceptable to wear my hair long, paint my fingernails any color other than matronly mauve, or wear jet black mascara (among a great big list of other taboo items.)  If there is a distinction in adulthood, apparently 40 is the line for women and so I’m left with this one little year in which to kick up my heels and behave accordingly.  365 measly days left to be young!  I can hardly believe it…it all went so fast!  Actually, I find all this to be pretty funny.  Funny for two reasons:  1) because I think when I was in my 20s that I actually believed these rules and 2) especially funny because in my heart of hearts the first number that pops into my mind whenever someone asks me how old I am has ALWAYS been 22!

Photo (4) fixed

Birthday gathering with friends 🙂

Yes, I know.  It’s been a long, LONG time since I was 22, but you have to hear me out about this.  So when you’re a kid, you can’t wait to be in double digits.  10 is a BIG deal.  The next milestone age is 13, right?  Because now you’re a teenager.  Followed by 16…the year you can get your driver’s license.  The next biggie is 18…no curfew, you can vote, live on your own, etc.  And finally 21.  The BIG ONE.  That’s right…all the sudden you’re able to do all the things you’ve been told REAL grown-ups do. (?)  I know, we all know…most of them are very OVERRATED.  So when 22 rolls around you figure, okay…that’s it.  Nothing to see here people and I guess I just stopped counting after that.  Ridiculous, right?  I know…but that’s the house that I’ve been living in.  Sure it’s a crazy house, but it’s still MY house.

At this point, I’m sure you’re laughing at me and I’m actually laughing at myself, too.  It’s been ages since I’ve been carded, had a night life, or gone on any adventures that don’t involve having my two kids in tow.  I’m not up on the newest trends, nor do I drive a hot car, or keep up with the latest movies or music.  I don’t really do any of the things that would lump myself in a category with anyone who is actually 22, yet that’s still the number that sticks in my head.  I always imagined that someday I’d graduate to a new birthday number, but it just never happened.  So now that I’m turning “the year before THE year,” I thought I’d better do a little research and see what the hubbub surrounding the number 40 is really all about…I mean, since I don’t want to be caught off guard (again) and I’m headed in that direction anyway.

It appears that there really are a lot of resources out there concerning the Big 4-0.  Countless books, websites, blogs and articles about embracing the “new and improved” you.  As I enter “the year before THE year,” it might behoove me to start reading up on some of these expectations and societal norms.  Here’s what I’ve gathered from the headlines so far:  40 is magical.  40 has attitude…it’s called “fortytude.”  There’s also a rumor that 40 can be fabulous (but I caution you, there are a lot of caveats to this one.)  40 is the first year a woman can qualify as a “cougar.”  40 is something that needs to be figured out and faced…it also makes you fierce and a force to be reckoned with (don’t you love all the alliteration that comes with 40!)  You can also be fit and forty at the same time (who knew?)  For those who truly believe in stressing themselves out about the number 40, there are a few websites that offer up 40 things you should accomplish by the time you reach 40.  And, by the way… in case you haven’t heard, forty is the new “F” word.

That’s a lot for one girl to take in.

All of this aside, here’s where I’m at.  It’s MY birthday and all I really want to do is thank God for another day, another year, and another reason to celebrate life (while eating Dairy Queen cake, of course.)  I don’t really get wrapped up in all this aging stuff.  I’m sure the day will come when the wrinkles and the gray hairs will win out, when my body doesn’t cooperate like it used to, when people stop asking me just how old I really am (and just start assuming I’m OLD!)  Until then, I’m just going to keep chugging along…making up nonsensical songs with my daughter, teasing my son by repeating hip phrases that sound anything but hip when I say them, wearing my hair as long as I want to, and sporting nice, bright nail polish as the mood strikes.  I’m not going to worry about figuring out or facing 40 or even reading up on the 40 things to do before you reach this supposed milestone.  While society might find my lack of alarm annoying or unheard of,  I think the psychological term is called “self differentiated.”  That’s right…who says you can’t teach an “old dog” new words.  And by the way, I’m going to stick with the age 22 for the time being (especially since Taylor Swift makes it sound so fun!)  Sure I’m a long way from it (and you really couldn’t pay me to go back,) but mostly just because it’s a nice number and like I said before… I still have a house there.  (Sure it’s a crazy house, but it’s MY house.)

Here’s to 365 days of “the year before THE year!”

I’m not 40, I’m eighteen with 22 years experience.   Author unknown