You know those ads with 50-somethings bouncing around tennis courts with perfectly groomed hair and suntans that advertise, 'Fifty is the new Thirty'? Well, not around here it ain't.
I don't want to be 30. I'd settle for, 'Fifty-five is the same-old Fifty-five' but my list of growing complaints is trying to convince me otherwise. I won't bore you here with the accumulation of details because I am trying to avoid membership of the 'Tasmalou Club' as the French call it.
T'as (tu as) mal ou? Or, Where does it hurt? A phrase I learned from Mme Riff, our beautiful and elegant French landlady in Juan les Pins as her husband launched into a description of his bad ankle.
|Pie d'Angloys & Brillat-Savarin with fresh black figs|
But maybe I don't have to wait that long. Red blood cells only live for about four months so I could have nearly a whole new set to juggle with by February. In the meantime I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry at the fact that the following snack bar represents excitement in my life right now...
In an idle moment I decided to Google the number 55 to discover any numerological, social or historical insights. It seems I have nothing to worry about. In numerology I am composed of Independence, Exploration, Self-determinism, Freedom and Adventure. In the I Ching I am the sum of earthly and heavenly numbers. I am also the 10th Fibonacci number and the international telephone code for Brazil. I am also quite happy that the 55th word of the King James bible is 'light'. But probably won't ponder on the fact that Adolf Hitler was the 55th member of National Socialist German Workers Party.
February 24th IS the 55th day of the year however. So my February goal is looking promising.
Hungry Writing Prompt
Write about numbers: your shoe size, your age.