I dream of my 70th birthday. My plan is to commence upon a decadent lifestyle when I turn 70, since pretty much every day after that is just a gift.
In my dream, I buy a pack of menthol cigarettes, so I can finally be reunited with the bad habit I miss the most. Once I’ve had my fill of morning coffee (which will be enhanced with real sugar and half & half), I’ll switch immediately to indulging in a Bloody Mary or maybe a Tequila Sunrise, and drink throughout the day with reckless abandon. Both of those drinks have juice in them, and I don’t want to be without vitamins at that age. I won’t go over a half gallon of alcohol per day. (Don’t laugh… I am genetically engineered to handle that much liquor.)
I will drive fast. In a convertible. Manual transmission. With my dog in the passenger seat, wearing Doggles and a bonnet. Just not after my 4th Bloody Mary of the day.
I will eat bacon every day. Every. Single. Day. Maybe at every meal. Maybe I will use bacon to garnish my tequila concoctions.
I will throw all of my verbal filters out the window, and say whatever I want to whomever I want. I know some of you think I did that on my 45th birthday, but you have no idea. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
Today, as I was thinking about how marvelous my 70th year is going to be, I started doing some math. My kids will be under 50. If they’re anything like me, they may still need a solid sounding board at that age. My grandkids will be finishing their educations or starting careers and/or families. Holy moly, I might even have a couple of great grandchildren running around. So at 70, I’ll still be going to Disney films with little people, and reminding my son that HIS son is only acting just like HE DID at that age. ( By the way, Alex, I will smile when I get to tell you that. I’ll probably even snicker.) My daughter may need me to dig out some old recipes for Christmas dinner.
My 70’s decadence is a pipe (cigarette) dream. I can’t go off the rails of a crazy train. I’ll still have a life.
So, I’m going to alter my dream to mesh with my reality…..which is pretty much what I’ve had to do with all my dreams throughout my life. Lucky for me, they mostly turned out OK. (Remember, happiness is a choice!)
So, here’s my compromise: My 70th birthday is going to be a blow out, with much tequila, even more bacon, and maybe even some 1970’s disco dancing. Each subsequent birthday will be even more raucous and irreverent. The other 364 days, though, I’ll behave.
Except for the bacon, which I will eat every day. Every. Single. Day.