Old Lady Blogging

Well, hello there! I've been thinking about getting old. The reason I've been thinking about getting old is that tomorrow I'll be 40. And pretty much, 40 is old. Even if you interview, like, 300 99-year-olds, 274 will probably admit that 40 is not young. So that's kind of weird. The being old. Not the interviewing of the 99-year-olds, although that's sort of weird too. But I didn't really do any interviews, because who has time for that? I mean, I need to get ready for my birthday celebrations, which is going to take some work because I'm old, so I only have a few minutes this morning to ruminate over my elderliness. I mean, if I were a little younger, I wouldn't have to color my hair or wrestle my mushy old-lady flesh into my spanx (must wear dress as pants don't fit again-while I wasn't blogging for the past 8 months I wasn't busy at the gym), but then again, I wouldn't need to blog about getting old, so I would have like 4 hours of free time this morning!

If I had 4 hours of free time from not blogging and not coloring and wrestling, I'd probably just waste it reading novels about crazy rich Asians, because that's what I've been doing this week. I'm on my second one, and not even by the same author. Don't misunderstand. They are not good.  I don't recommend them.  I did learn that Shenzhen is like Chinese Tijuana, but don't tell that to my sister-in-law Jane and her family, because they moved there last week.

So my birthday party starts today with lunch with some of my lady-relations at the Liberty Market. Then my visiting teachers are taking me to dinner, and then the party continues at book club tonight (although is not actual party in my honor, but official book club meeting, even though we didn't read any book and are just having a potluck. That's totally kosher behavior when you've been book-clubbing with the same ladies for 10 years. Books are optional. Also, only 40-year-olds have been in book clubs for ten years. Twenty-somethings are still maybe busy in actual clubs, looking for boys).

Tomorrow, Jake and I are going to Scottsdale for the official birthiversary festivities. (I got married on my 23rd birthday, so my 40th birthday is also my 17th wedding anniversary), where we will feast on croque monsieur at La Grande Orange, or maybe get a Kobe burger and a bananas foster milkshake at Zinburger, then go to to movies to see Way, Way Back at Camelview, maybe sift through some fancy but mildly used Italian shoes at Last Chance, then check into the Montelucia, which is so cheap is like they are begging on hands and knees for us to come over and get facials (feels financially irresponsible not to get facials; plus, am old, so need facial more than ever), then go to dinner at either BLT at Camelback Inn (because the popovers will leave you a changed woman) or to Elements at Sanctuary, which sounds good, too. And then on Saturday we will go to the spa, then stop at Sprinkles on the way home to get birthday cupcakes. I hope they have the lemon coconut.

Anyway, it is hard to be sad about turning 40 when I get to eat so much good stuff, and someone else is getting paid to squeeze my blackheads. And also, I have such great kids and Jake and parents and siblings and friends. And maybe someday, they'll say that 99 is new 40, and I'll get to do it all over again as a nonagenarian.

22nd birthday, Apartment 16 at the Riviera. Chris from Sofa, me and Jake. 81 degrees

23rd birthday, Mesa Temple. 110 degrees

39th birthday. Camelback Inn. 107 degrees

Before our pre-anniversary dinner.  Last week at Jake's Del Mar. 75 degrees