B-Day: P.S.

You didn't really think I could get away with not posting on my 50th birthday, did you?

When I press "Publish Post" at exactly 9:10 a.m., I will be exactly 50 years old. It's about time! I think it's fair to say that my salad days are officially over -- the inexperience of youth and all. Again, it's about time! I'm not old, just finally grown up. I guess there was a time in my life, even recently, when that idea was horrifying, but I’m actually really thrilled that I’ve arrived. I feel like I finally fit in my skin, my slightly sagging skin, yes, but my skin. It’s been a long journey. Nice to meet you, Nancy. Happy Birthday. And as my sweet little Scottish gram would have said, "Many happy returns of the day. May God bless."

And by the way, I do, in fact, have a zit. Some things never change.

So, it has come to this. My final words are courtesy of Lisa, whose Lewis Carroll-based show I mentioned yesterday. They are from her Director's Note in the program, and I can't think of a better sign off.

"This is a story of growing up, and all of the madness, the work, the stories and games that go along with that. What do we need to know in order to move onto the next step in life? What childhood lessons or friendships do we take with us or leave behind? How do you spend your time? What rabbit are you chasing... Who ARE you and what is your Wonderland?"

I'm starting to figure it out. In the meantime, I have a Bittersweet Chocolate Frosted Layer Cake to bake...

Love,
Nancy

Day 1: Not Much Left to Say

It's actually quite surreal to sit here at my computer and type in the words Day 1. I have a way of giving up on things -- follow through isn't my strong suit -- but I was determined when I started this back in August to finish it. And I've done it. And I have to tell you that I'm crying right now, I'm that proud of myself.

One day late in July the title One Hundred to 50 popped up out of nowhere. David and I happened to be in Boston the next day and I mentioned it to him, my arbiter of taste when it comes to words; three days later, with his praise for the idea spurring me on, I was blogging. Another impulsive move on my part, but a good one. This blog has been a massive brain dump for me, my stream of consciousness, free association. Our very first computer used to flash the words, "Communicating at an unknown rate." And a few years ago when I was in London, I saw a road sign that said, "Changing Priorities Ahead." I used to think that both of those would make great titles for my autobiography. But in a way, this blog represents the first half of my autobiography, which I suppose, therefore, ought to be called One Hundred to 50.

That leaves the second half of my autobiography. For those of you who have told me that you're going to miss reading my blog everyday, I would reply that I think I'm going to miss writing it more. Thankfully (for me anyway!), I do have an idea for the next one: 50 to One Hundred. I'm not going to pressure myself into writing everyday -- after all, my plan is to do it for 50 years -- and I'm not sure when I'll start, but one of the items on my ultimate to-do list is to write another blog, and do it I will. Consider that a threat and a promise. Check back on this blog from time to time and perhaps you'll find an update. And if I were you, I'd check it tomorrow.

FYI, I've already taken care of one of the other items on the list. An hour or two after I posted it I happened to open an e-mail from Ticketmaster and lo and behold, it said that tickets were going on sale yesterday at 10:00 a.m. for U2 on July 19th at the Meadowlands. Serendipitous! Barring any unforeseen circumstances, looks like I'll be able to cross that one off the list.

I'm going into the city this afternoon. My impulsiveness worked out with regards to the blog but in terms of my hair, well, that's a whole other story. I'm going back to my old hairdresser to see if she can finish what Jaafar started. And would you like to know what her name is? Young! No joke. How appropriate, huh? Afterwards, I'm going to a baby shower. I don't know when I last went to one. It was probably for Lisa, our old nanny, whose baby shower baby is now eight.

Lisa is the drama teacher at a private school in New Jersey, and Friday night Hope and I went to see her show "Wonderland," an adaptation of books by Lewis Carroll that she co-wrote with one of her students. Incredible. And, she gave me a glorious gift: a list of 50 unforgettable NLMG things and memories. I can't possibly thank her enough for her thoughtfulness and for sparking my own memories that might otherwise have remained buried. I've written several times before about the beauty of those "Aha!" moments; reconnecting with a younger me is one of my greatest pleasures. Lisa gave me 50 of them.

Anyway, going to a baby shower this evening feels like a lovely way to usher in my big day. A new life. New memories. New joys. And the continuation of mine...

So, let's see, who else has a birthday tomorrow? My friend Laura, my birthday buddy. Also, Abigail Adams, Marshall Crenshaw, Kurt Vonnegut, Alger Hiss, George Patton, Charles Manson, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Demi Moore, Calista Flockhart and Leonardo DiCaprio. Quite an assortment of characters. All Scorpios. Watch out! People born on November 11th are supposedly good storytellers. I certainly don't compare to the likes of writers like Vonnegut or Dostoyevsky, but everyone's life is a story, right? And each person tells it in their own way. Thank you for listening to me tell mine.

Day 2: My Ultimate Playlist (As of Today)

The following fifty songs make up the playlist of my life. They're not necessarily my favorite songs, although some of them are. I have many -- but not all -- of them on my IPod. These are simply songs that evoke strong memories of particular times in my life. For instance, I love to run to "Magic Carpet Ride." "And I Love Her" was the first song David and I danced to at our wedding. "Smooth" reminds me of my friend Karin dancing. "Elevation" reminds me of driving in the car with my kids. We used to sing "Have You Seen the Ghost of Tom" at Halloween in elementary school. There are only a handful of current songs on this list because I don't know yet what will remind me of this time in my life. And who knows how much of it I'll even remember? I've forgotten most of it already! Perhaps I'll have to add "Forever Young" by Youth Group or "When You Were Young" by The Killers or "Reelin' in the Years" by Steely Dan.

I refuse to apologize for any songs on this list, even if some of them are highly embarrassing. I will, however, apologize for the fact that there are actually closer to 100 songs here. I tried so hard to edit them down to fifty, but the best I could do was about seventy-five, so I gave up.

In no particular order, I give you the playlist of my life.

“Sugar Sugar” by The Archies
“Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Looking Glass

“Sounds” from The Me That Nobody Knows
“Lose Yourself” by Eminem
“Sweet Baby James” by James Taylor
“New Year’s Day” by U2
“Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolf
“Daniel” by Elton John
“Losing My Religion” by REM
“Night Swimming” by REM
“Shiny Happy People” by REM
“Burning Down the House” by Talking Heads
“Take Me to the River” by Talking Heads
“Once in a Lifetime” by Talking Heads
“Fly Away” by Lenny Kravitz
“Catch My Disease” by Ben Lee
“Single Ladies” by Beyonce
“Monkey Man” by The Rolling Stones
“(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” by The Rolling Stones
“Start Me Up” by The Rolling Stones
“Bungle in the Jungle” by Jethro Tull
"Ninety Six Tears" by Question Mark and the Mysterians, Doug Martin on piano
“Windy” by The Association
“Little Miss America” by The Beach Boys
“Every Day I Write the Book” by Elvis Costello & The Attractions
“Crush” by David Archuletta
“Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong” by Spin Doctors
“Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
“The Weight” by The Band
“Red Red Wine” by UB40
“The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys” by Traffic
“Fire and Rain” by James Taylor
“Get Down Tonight” by KC and the Sunshine Band
“Moondance” by Van Morrison
“Electric Feel” by MGMT
“Have You Seen the Ghost of Tom” by ?
“Place of the Blest” by Randall Thompson
“I Love to Laugh” from Mary Poppins
“Tainted Love/Where Did Our Love Go” by Soft Cell
“Layla” by Derek & The Dominoes
“Elevation” by U2
"Mississippi Queen" by Mountain
“Lounge Act” by Nirvana
“Roll With the Changes” by REO Speedwagon
“Rock the Casbah” by The Clash
“More Than a Feeling” by Boston
“The Joker” by Steve Miller Band
“Closing Time” by Semisonic
“Amie” by Pure Prairie League
“Our Lips Are Sealed” by The Go-Go’s
“Brick House” by The Commodores
“And I Love Her” by The Beatles
“Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” by BJ Thomas
“Go Your Own Way” by Fleetwood Mac
“Let’s Stay Together” by Al Green
Handel’s “Messiah”
“Downtown’ by Petula Clark
“Cinnamon Girl” by Neil Young
“Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” by Johann Sebastian Bach
“Wouldn’t It Be Good” by Nic Kershaw
“Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” by Crosby, Stills & Nash
“Have A LIttle Faith in Me” by John Hiatt
“Jackie Blue” by Ozark Mountain Daredevils
“Pick Up The Pieces” by Average White Band
“Rebellion (Lies)” by Arcade Fire
“More Than This” by Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music
“Head and Heart” by John Martyn
“Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve
“For the Beauty of the Earth” from the Presbyterian Hymnal
“Work It Out” by Jurassic 5 & Dave Matthews Band
“Take A Minute” by K’naan
“No One’s Gonna Love You” by Band of Horses
“Deadbeat Club” by The B-52s
“She Drives Me Crazy” by Fine Young Cannibals
“The Lucky One” by Freedy Johnston
“Walk Away Renee” by Jimmy LaFave
“Bullet and a Target” by Citizen Cope
"Waltzing With Bears" by ?
“Intro/Sweet Jane” by Lou Reed
“Better Man” by Pearl Jam
“Debaser” by The Pixies
“I Want it That Way” by The Backstreet Boys
“Fallin” by Asher Roth
“Going Out Of My Head” by Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66
“Run” by Snow Patrol
“It’s My Life” by Talk Talk
“Peaches and Cream” by John Butler Trio
“Sarah Smile” by Hall & Oates
“Doctor My Eyes” by Jackson Browne
“Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show
What I Like About You” by The Romantics
“Meet the Mets” by ?
“I’m Henry the VIII, I Am” by Herman’s Hermits
“Angels We Have Heard on High” -- Christmas Carol
"Smooth" by Santana

And last but not least, the song that I don’t know the name of that I heard in the bar. Can someone please help me out here? If you think you can name that tune (oh how I loved that show -- “I can name that tune in two notes!”), please call me and I’ll hum it for you. If you can, indeed, put me out of my misery, I'll burn you a cd (or five) of these beauties...

Day 3: The Ultimate To-Do List

Last night's birthday party was perfect. My five very favorite people in the world were with me. I had a cocktail made with vodka, crushed concord grapes and lime. I had Butternut Squash Custard with American Persimmon, Quince and Pine Nuts for an appetizer and Spanish Mackerel with Foie Gras, Savoy Cabbage, Mussels and Sesame Seeds for my entree, along with a sentimental bottle of red wine. Gingerbread Cake with Poached Seckel Pear and Cream Cheese Ice Cream (and a candle) for dessert. The mackerel reminded me of the time I ate a bowl of cat food (no need to go into the stomach-churning details, let's just say it wasn't one of my prouder moments).

I also got the best birthday present ever. David had arranged a photo session for our kids with the photographer who took pictures of them thirteen years ago. My favorite photo from the first session hangs on the wall of our kitchen. This new one is now hanging nearby. It made me so teary I almost couldn't speak (everyone was thrilled). All in all, a great night. My hair didn't look too good, I couldn't do the makeup like the lady in the store, and my party dress didn't do much to conceal the extra fifteen pounds, but no matter. My family made me feel beautiful and well-loved.

My posts to this blog have been fairly spontaneous. I've kept a list of ideas which I've pulled from a few times, but mostly I've just written whatever has popped into my head on a daily basis. From the get-go, however, I knew what the final posts would be. I now present to you my list of Fifty Intentions for the Next Fifty Years (in no particular order). Some of them are gleaned from this blog, some I've been thinking about for years, and a few were just added today. I don't really want to call it my bucket list because these are not necessarily the things I want to do before I kick the bucket. They're simply what I aspire to. Some are silly. Some are serious. I know some are pipe dreams. So be it.

Stop using the word anyway so much.
Read the newspaper every day.
Save some trees by canceling all my subscriptions to magazines; I never read them anyway.
Make a few new good friends.
Take more baths.
See U2 live.
Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Grow old with David.
Be the mother of the bride and the mother of the groom.
Learn how to blow dry my hair.
Organize my photos.
Sing "Sweet Baby James" to my grandchildren.
See my parents again.
Take a graphic design class.
Make the perfect pie crust.
Walk all the trails in Ward Pound Ridge Reservation.
Run another half marathon.
Laugh hard, loud and often.
Learn to say no.
Find more ways to say yes.
Finish a New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle. No cheating. No help.
Go to Antarctica, the Galapagos and the Grand Tetons.
Take a flying lesson.
Grow old gracefully.
Go apple picking with my children one last time.
Pray daily.
See David Sedaris perform.
Figure out the name of the song that I heard at the bar.
Be more dependable.
Get to the bottom of my to-do list.
Read more, and finish Anna Karenina. Consider the possibility of, or perhaps of not, adding War and Peace to the list.
Sleep more.
Relax, simply sit still and simplify my life.
Stay engaged, put myself out there: no fear.
Always inquire as to the dress code.
Buy a road atlas and keep it in my car.
Go on a two or three week vacation with absolutely no plans; just get in the car and drive, and enjoy the adventure.
Take the Winnie the Pooh quotation to heart: "You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."
Never ride another rollercoaster as long as I live.
Take my vitamins.
Exercise six days a week (I've read that's what you must do to stay flexible and strong).
Witness my children succeed according to their own definitions of that word.
Spend more time with all the people I love.
Always see the glass as half full.
"Be the change I wish to see in the world" (thank you Mahatma Gandhi), whether it's in Nicaragua or in South Africa or right here in my own backyard.
Make my parents proud.
Start playing the piano again.
Learn to play the harp.
Not beat myself up if much of this doesn't happen -- just do the best I can.
Write another blog.

On three separate occasions in the past thirty three years, I have looked ahead to turning fifty with a concrete goal in mind. When I was seventeen and a senior in high school, I played the "What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up" game with my friends. I said that I wanted to be a bestselling author by the time I turned fifty (saying what I really wanted to do -- be a mom -- sounded too lame). My senior year in college my friend Albert and I decided to marry one another if neither one of us was married by the time we turned fifty. And about three years ago I decided that I wanted to run a marathon before I turned fifty.

To a certain degree, I've accomplished all these goals. Thanks to Jan and David, Albert and I weren’t forced into an arranged marriage. I've finally started writing, and while this blog may only have a handful of readers, they’ve been generous in letting me know that my words have on occasion moved them or made them laugh or made them nod their head in agreement. And even though I only ran a half marathon, it was 95 degrees out and I sure as hell felt like I'd run 26.2 miles. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do, and along the way I’ve led a charmed existence. I’m deeply grateful and excited to see what the future holds. And by the way, I'm no longer embarrassed to say that I think being a mom, and a good mom, is probably the most important job there is.

And now I'll take my leave of you. I've got places to go and people to see and things to do.

Day 4: It's Party Time

Okay, this doesn’t bode well. Sometimes all you need to do is sleep on a new haircut and it’ll look more like itself, more like what it wants to be, in the morning. But not all the time... That Dave, he’s a lucky guy, huh?

But not even the prospect of a bad hair winter -- maybe if I put on a ton of makeup no one will notice my pixie cut gone wild -- can dampen my spirits today. I’m as excited as I've been about anything in recent memory. Today's my birthday party! The guest list is highly exclusive: David, Annie, Jack, Luke, Hope and moi, Mneme. There, I’ve said their names! It was time to name all of them out loud. Sort of like a twisted version of Rumpelstiltsken or something.

We’re having a family dinner in the city tonight. All of us together, sitting around a table in a lively environment eating delicious food and just enjoying one another’s company -- that’s my idea of perfect happiness (and my answer on the Proust questionnaire). So tonight I attain nirvana, paradise, heaven, whatever you want to call it. How lucky am I?

Ultimately, having dinner with my husband and my children is what I decided I wanted to do most for my birthday. We thought about taking a trip; in fact, we thought and thought and thought about it until honestly, I just didn’t want to go anywhere. I had all kinds of reasons for not wanting to go away, but the one that mattered most was simply that I love it here. This is my life and the place that I want to be on my fiftieth birthday. I want to blow out the candles and make my birthday wish smack dab in the middle of all I know and am, surrounded by my family and my to-do lists and my unmade bed. My wish is that I remain as blessed as I have been for the last 50 years -- that life goes on just as it has. I’m incredibly lucky. I didn’t do anything to deserve it. The Galapagos can wait.

Anyway, I bought myself a new party dress. $39.99 at Target. Things are looking pretty good.

Day 5: Who Is That Masked Woman?

With my birthday only five days away, I'm starting to exhibit the kind of anal retentive behavior that’s usually reserved for my pre-vacation routine: the to-do list must be tackled. Fortunately, in the case of this big birthday it's not the entire list. Believe me, I'm deeply relieved that I don't feel compelled to research the benefits of the Optimum Triple Play Upgrade or to organize my recipe file. No, it's the beauty to-do list. At 9:10 Wednesday morning, when I officially become eligible for membership in the AARP, I want to be looking as good as possible. I don't want to look like a quinquagenarian. Barbie doesn't look like one, so why should I?

I have a facial scheduled for Monday. Tomorrow I'm getting a manicure and a pedicure. I’m checking everyday for stray eyebrows and whiskers. I’m using body scrub. And today I got my hair cut: not trimmed, cut. I've been needing to make this change for a while. My hair has been getting longer and stringier as I've been debating what to do with it. Today I took the plunge and went to a salon I've never been to before. I put myself in the hands of Jafaar, a seemingly nice man who turned out to have his own agenda. I mentioned that I might like the Meg Ryan "do" from about ten years ago. I modeled that messy and chopped bedroom hair for quite some time and I thought it suited me. Speaking of which, have you ever watched "Chopped" on The Food Network? It's always exciting to see what the mystery ingredients are, but I won't be really impressed until the contestants have to incorporate a Yodel into the appetizer course.

I don’t think that Meg Ryan was who Jafaar had in mind as he attacked my limp tresses. Although he couldn’t have known it, I now look like no one so much as my fifth grade self. I wanted a little lift, I wanted to look a bit younger, but I was thinking 40, not 10. I have a slightly updated pageboy. My head looks like a bowling ball. I’m seriously hoping it looks better once I wash it and go. I've never learned how to blow dry my hair so I don't. I don't spray volumizer on my roots. I don’t use modeling wax on my ends. The only mousse I like is chocolate.

In the same spirit of adventure, I stopped in the neighboring department store and had my makeup done. The makeup artist didn't believe me when I told her I already had makeup on. She has a decidedly heavier hand than I do and proceeded to list all my flaws that can be corrected with various kinds of spackle and shellac. I was under the impression that it’s good if your skin is slightly pink -- I mean, aren’t we all aiming for a natural looking blush? But oh no, I must cover up the natural pink tones in my skin and then put on blush (only with a synthetic bristle brush) for a nice rosy glow. Conceal the circles! Use lip liner! Put on a base of buttercream eyeshadow (I wanted to eat it) and then cover it with pewter. If I’m going to cover it, why do I need to put it on in the first place? And for God’s sake, would you please use volumizing mascara? My retort that I was already wearing mascara elicited a guffaw.

I have to admit that my eyes look kind of nice, but my painted lady look and my immature head of hair are an odd juxtaposition. Regardless, I ended up buying most of the crap she used on me in the belief, well... I don't know in what belief. I just did it. The only makeup my mom ever wore was red lipstick, but one day she allowed her makeup to be done in a department store while Ayon and I watched. I thought she looked great afterwards. She bought some of what the saleswoman used on her and put it in a drawer in the bathroom, where it quickly got pushed to the back and remained, unopened, until I started playing with it.

One of the questions on the questionnaire I wrote about yesterday is “What is your motto?” My answer was “Do your best. Do it tomorrow. Love your neighbor.” What I didn’t add, but which I say a lot, is “Less is more.” I’m pretty sure all the makeup I bought is going to sit in the back of my drawer, too. Less is more. And as far as my hair goes, I just need to remember my mom's motto: “This, too, shall pass.”

Day 6: Random Thoughts: Part V

It's a bit misleading to label this Part V. I mean, let's be honest, pretty much every post has been random. It should be Part XCV (you do the math).

I can't believe that I only have a few blogging days left. It's probably just as well -- I have a couple of big commitments in the next month and then, of course, there's the dreaded Christmas shopping. Every year I vow we're going to scale back; I claim I want to spend the month of December doing things that feel Christmasy. Supposedly I like to bake cookies, write Christmas cards and throw back a few eggnogs with friends (actually that's a lie -- the thought of eggnog makes me gag -- but bring on the tequila). Yet these things never happen. Supposedly I abhor shopping, yet I spend the latter part of November and most of December doing it. I have no credibility.

Happily, I learned this afternoon that that's not entirely true (I seem to be telling several little lies in this post). I heard an interview with Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter, whose new book is a compilation of "Proust Questionnaire" columns from the back page of the magazine. Each month since 1992 the same set of questions has been posed to a celebrity, the theory being that you can tell almost everything you need to know about a person by the way he or she answers. If you go to the magazine's website you, too, can answer the questions, and you'll even learn which celebrity you're most like.

Jane Goodall, the chimp lady, answered like me 92.82% of the time. I think that gives me some cred. And runner up, at 78.86%, is Ron Howard! Now please, who doesn't like Opie? And here's something weird: turns out Jane Goodall credits a stuffed animal chimpanzee that she was given as a child with her lifelong passion, and its name was -- get this -- Jubilee! I wonder if Jane likes snack food cakes...

I'll tell you my answers to a few of the questions, but I think, if you've read all my posts (JZ, NSE and LH, I think I'm talking to you), you can probably answer most of the questions for me. Or at least come up with a good guess. And that makes me proud, because it means, I hope, that I accomplished part of what I set out to do in this blog, which was, through storytelling, to shed some light on how I came to be who I am today, and who I might like to be tomorrow. I think my mom and dad would be proud, which is one of only a handful of things I've ever actually aspired to. If you've seen the movie "The Sixth Sense," you can't possibly have forgotten the scene where Cole, a boy who speaks to dead people, and his mom are talking in the car.

Cole: "Grandma says hi.... She said you came to the place where they buried her, asked her a question. She said the answer is 'Everyday.' What did you ask?"

His mom, choking back sobs: "Do I make her proud?"

Yeah, I hear you.

So.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? Having no hope.

What is your greatest extravagance? My purses.

If you died and came back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be? A well-loved dog.

How would you like to die? At an advanced age, but before I'm incapacitated mentally or physically. I hope I go to sleep one night and never wake up. I hope the people I love know that I died peacefully and that I loved them deeply. I hope I die with no major regrets.

On what occasion do you lie? I plead the Fifth.

Actually, that's a lie; I did answer that question. I'm just not telling you. For once.