I can’t let the date pass without a notice. It’s 10/10/10. I’m not into numerology, but I kind of think this one is cool. No idea why – maybe because it only occurs once a century? But then, so does every date. And every moment – they all occur only once.
Is there significance to numbers? What do you think? I am, by numerology standards, a nine. My number was calculated by adding together my birth month, day and year. I’d tell you what those were, but then I’d have to kill you. Or maybe myself. Those tiny wrinkles (aka “fine lines” and “laugh lines”) in the mirror serve as an awesome reminder of just exactly how old I really am. The good news, though, is that I have the same lustrous dark brown hair I’ve always had, not a spot of gray in it. Thank you, Sienna. I couldn’t even come close to telling you my actual hair color these days, but my guess is that it would be far more gray than I am comfortable knowing about.
Sorry – I meandered from my original point, which could, quite frankly, be the result of aging. Back in the day, I thought it was clever to put my birth year in my email address. I’ve had the same address for quite some time now, and that 19 *koff* *koff* doesn’t seem quite so clever any longer. Actually, it seems just a tad mocking. When I give people my email address, they look at me sadly for a moment and then mutter some lie like “wow – you look great.” Liars.
Just the other day, I mentioned my age to one of my many maintenance professionals – the brow waxer, actually. Apparently one of the joys of being my age is that the brows start to sprout like some crazy old man, which matches the mustache, I suppose. Thank goodness for the zillions of maintenance professionals who keep me looking like a middle-aged woman instead of a scary geezer with sprouting brows, a handlebar mustache and mutton chops who spends most of the time shouting, “You kids get off of my lawn!”
Shout out to Mindy, my facial hair maintenance professional. Anyway – I happened to mention my age to Mindy as she was pruning my brows and other assorted facial hairs the other day, and she said, “oh well you have great skin for your age.” mmmhmmm. It’s okay, Mindy. You didn’t have to make the effort. I’ll keep you around just for your ability to keep my brows from sprouting like the Andy Roony’s.
Ahem. Back to my topic of numerology. I am a nine. That, apparently, is the number of completion. According to numerology charts, this means that I am tolerant, generous, passionate and forgiving. It could also include hedonism, lethargy and the tendency to be a bit of a drifter.
I’ve never really given much credence to things like astrology, numerology and other similar -ologies. Still, 10/10/10 is cool, and really here’s why. It only does come once a century – just like every other date. And every moment – it only occurs just that once. Each moment that I have is a precious commodity. It seems that just a moment ago, I was young and vibrant without a gray hair or wrinkle in sight. In the blink of an eye, I went from being on the brink of my adult life to being smack dab in the middle of it. And there have been many, many times when I’ve forgotten over the years to celebrate those moments. I can sit here at the age of – okay, I’ll say it. *koff*44*koff* and look back over the 20 or so years that I’ve really been a grown up. And I can recognize how many of those moments I’ve wasted – longing to be doing something that I wasn’t, looking forward to the future, thinking about the past.
I joke, but I actually love the age I am right now. Cosmetic issues aside, I feel more alive and more me than I ever have at any other point in my personal history. Somewhere along the way I learned something that changed everything for me. I learned that what I have is this moment, right now. That’s really all I have. What has come before is already past, and what will be only happens in the moment that it arrives. And so – no matter what has come before, and no matter what my goals and ambitions, what really matters is just this moment, right now. And if learning that comes with laugh lines, gray hairs, occasional memory lapses, sprouting eyebrows and rising maintenance costs, then I’ll take where I am right now over where I once was. After all, now is what I have, so I might as well celebrate it.
And you thought this was going to be a blog about 10/10/10.