For my birthday this summer I celebrated with a go-kart racing party and highly recommend this venue. (I’ve raced go-karts in Phoenix, and love the two-level track at the Mall of America in Minneapolis.) You’re familiar with the TV show “Are you smarter than a fifth-grader?” My party’s theme was “Are you faster than a grandma?” As it turned out, not many were.
In the past week I’ve transferred my domain to a new host, figured out multiple tech issues on my phone and laptop, and (re)built my website. These are all things that, prior to last year when my husband worked and lived in Orlando, I would have pawned off on him. “You know I’m no good at this computer stuff, honey.” If there’s one thing those 11 months apart taught me was that I needed to learn to do things for myself. We also learned that we don’t ever want to live apart again.
Two weeks ago, I chose to embrace the fact that my hair follicles had also been aging. Sometime during the past 30 years of dying my hair reddish-brown, the hair underneath had become mostly white. After a weekend of stripping the built-up dye (twice), re-dying it a new shade and then applying a toner my hair-guy William gave me, my new hair color is platinum blonde.
I don’t know what’s next, but so far, getting older is pretty darn fun.
