Last week, I celebrated my fiftieth birthday.
I celebrated by spending a few days at my favourite spa with my Honey, where I had a facial and a fabulous Shiatsu massage. So - having had my shoulder worked on and after spending a lot of time floating in the mineral pool - I'm good for a few more miles, anyway.
I didn't observe the day by doing anything crazy. Nothing nutty. Didn't jump out of a plane or get anything tattooed or pierced. No flashy new sportscar. Pretty tame by most people's standards, I suppose.
Then again, I did start grad school this semester - which was something I had always dreamed of doing. That was my great leap of faith - no plane necessary.
However, my small act of daring is nothing compared to my Mom's.
She just turned seventy-five.
She and her high school sweetheart just got engaged.
Talk about a leap!
So, no tats or piercings. No Jags or parachutes.
Not for us.
That kind of shit is for wimps.
Real life takes real guts.