How old am I? I’m old enough to still imagine that turning 55 represents some sort of milestone.
Not so, apparently.
I knew that the retirement age had gone up to 65, and crept beyond that for most people, but I didn’t realize the coveted senior discounts and all the other benefits of “old age” rose with it.
That’s fine with me. If society doesn’t consider me a senior citizen, I’ll be damned if I’m going to consider myself one!
Milestone or not, today I turn 55 years old.
It’s too early to say how the day will play out. Michelle supposedly has the day off, but may need to go into town for a meeting. If I still expect to bag a moose, today is my last day to do so—the hunt has been so successful, they’re closing it at midnight tonight, a whole week early. I also have the last firewood tree for the winter laying on the ground, and I need to buck, chop, and stack it for drying. Today will be another day of homestead living, with a birthday celebration squeezed in around the edges.
But, hopefully I’ll get a short Skype with Aly, and calls from my siblings, father, and perhaps in-laws. We’ll have cake, most certainly (see Recipe: “Mom’s” Chocolate Cherry Cake) and it looks like the birthday boy gets lasagne for dinner!
We will celebrate not only my 55th birthday, but the start of October, a particularly wonderful month in our homestead year.
As for turning 55, I don’t dread it. As I mentioned 5 years ago, in this neighborhood, it doesn’t mean much (see I’m 50, Dammit!).