Forties: the final hours

Once upon a time, a girl named Lennie had her 10th birthday. Then her 20th (see above), then her 30th. Then her 40th. Then her 49th. Which meant that the next birthday would be the one known as THE BIG ONE. The big 5-0.

And so it came to pass that the months counted down, the weeks counted down, then the days counted down -- and now here we are. It's Friday afternoon and in less than 48 hours, I won't be in my forties anymore. Weird, weird, weird. How can that be when I barely feel like I'm 30?

But it's just a number after all, albeit a momentous one. But since I'm all about you're only as old as you feel, I shall briefly wallow in an I'm-getting-old moment, and then move on. Thanks to the wonderful invention of hair dye, my hair doesn't look like I remember 50-year-old ladies looking, and thanks to good DNA and spf-1000 sunblock, my skin doesn't look it either. Wallowing done. I'm good to go.

By the way, a brief comment on the above photo. It wasn't exactly taken on my birthday, but close to it and it was the only photo I could find that I knew was taken in June 1978. And that "captain" bit? As I get to know people through their blogs, I've noticed that many refer to their husbands by pet names. Noble Pig has her Wild Boar ... Evil Chef Mom has The Man ... Undomestic Diva has her Candy Ass ... Pioneer Woman has her Marlboro Man. Etc, etc. And so I felt like my hubby deserved a nickname too. I was leaning towards Barney Miller -- hands up if you're too young to know who Barney Miller is -- but that had the distinct possibility of being shortened to BM. And that's not really nice, is it? Barney was a captain though, and that's when the lightbulbs went off and I decided to go with captain.

There were a few other famous captains back-in-the-day, Captain Kirk being one, along with that musical guy. And so referring to my hubby as such might lead to me being mistaken for Tennille -- another 70s reference for you kiddies out there -- but hey, that's not all bad.