Wasted Youth

Can’t believe I will be 40 tomorrow!

I remember thinking that I could not wait to be old enough to drive.  THIS would become my crowning moment.  To turn “Sweet 16” would be a pivotal time- enabling me to have a small taste of freedom via my first car, a 1979 Ford F150.  Then only two short years away from being able to finally do what I want, when I want, and be out from under my parent’s thumbs.  “Vive la Liberté!”  Hooray for Freedom and Independence, liberated at 18! (That was a weird time.  I had graduated high school at 17 in June. Then I had to bide my time at my parents house under threat of death until I turned 18 and could legally move out. My Dad was so pissed that I moved out with a BOY that he didn’t talk to me for 6 months. Even though I eventually married the same boy- neither of my parents liked that I “lived in sin”. PFFT.  They were teens of the 70’s.  You would really have thought they would be more liberal in 1993. Not so much.)   The next milestone was to be able to drink delicious adult beverages (legally) at 21.  I also remember when I thought that 40 was absolutely ancient.  I guess what George Bernard Shaw said is very true.  We are so busy looking at what will happen next that we miss what is happening now.

Youth is wasted on the young. ~ George Bernard Shaw

I had not really given much thought to any of the next several milestones, because let’s face it- they were just not as fun. (Turning 25 had the added benefit of getting cheaper car insurance. Yahoo. Raise the roof.)  Thirty came and went without much hooplah. More or less, was the day my hair decided to get curly and frizzy in spots, straight in others and I got the addition of pimples to go with my wrinkles. Excellent. Just what every girl wants.  Although, I did buy myself my first tattoo.

I don’t know if it is a Capricorn thing, or just a “Me” thing- but I have gotten to where I seriously dread December.  Advent of another year coming and going, more wrinkles, less accomplishments than what I thought I should have done, so on and so forth. The best part of December for me (This is sarcasm, y’all) Is that I almost always get to revel in the delight of ringing in the new year with a joyous bout of bronchitis. Sometimes, on special years the bronchitis pals up with pneumonia. Now that’s a party!

This year, however- I am only just now getting the sniffles. So that is a birthday present in and of itself (Sad. I know. But I take what I can get!).  Also, when I get on my pity potty about how little I have accomplished, my great friend reminds me that I have ran several half marathons (some of which were this year) and only a small percentage of people on this planet belong to that club.  (Thank you Mary for being the cheerleader that we never thought you would be. Thank you Vicky for being the cheerleader that we always knew you were. HA!)

Today I saw this posted from The Bloggess on Face Book, and I couldn’t help but laugh (fellow Capricorn) that she was wishing everyone a Happy Birthday for HER birthday. LOL. She slays me.


Her horoscope is a bit different than the “Magicackal Adrian” gifted me with earlier this week (shown below).  His had me a little uncomfortable on a couple of points- even though I don’t particularly believe, I don’t not believe either. (Take that grammar gestapo!)

Art from: http://shoppingwithjuan.com/cool-birthday-gift-ideas-capricorn-man.html


I am torn between a lot of that ringing true, and how very steadfast and boring it sounds like I am.


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