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.