Who What Where When Why Wednesday

So.

(SHANA!) has completely ignored my begging and pleading for a quick how-to-set-up-a-blog-carnival-successful-or-un.

So.

I'm pressing on.

Cuz it's Wednesday.

And last week, well, I left out the 'why'.

Which makes today, "Who What Where When Why Wednesday".

Last week, I veered a little toward the negative.

This week, some might view this as a 'regret' post, but it really isn't that at all.

I'm still feeling the shock of "Pia" from last week's American Idol, so this isn't a 'regret' post, merely a 'reminiscent' post.

Sort of.

It goes something like this:

I am 40 years old (and quickly approaching 41, dammit), and the goal I set for my 40th year was to lose 40 pounds.  Yeah, I did that already, and then some, and still losing.  Yay me!

That's NOT the post!

I am 40 years old, and now that I can actually say, I am 40 years old, I feel somewhat, well older, but um, validated.  Like, I graduated from college!  But "I am 40 years old" somehow seems more...I dunno, it seems more IMPORTANT than it did just a few years ago, and perhaps even more IMPORTANT than that pretty piece of paper that hangs in a pretty frame on an obscure wall in my home that I really, really, worked hard for, but in the end...did it really matter?  Does it really matter?  Because if you think about it, I've really, really, really worked hard at 'making' it to 40.   Really.  I've stared death in the face more times than I can count, and more times than I can remember, and when I go to Walgreens, or I'm admitted to the hospital, 'they' still say to me, "you are far too young to be this sick." 

So.

40 has become a milestone I wasn't quite expecting, in ways I never would have dreamed.

Which has made me a bit reminiscent.  That, and the joyful high school reunion wedding my family attended last week.

Anyhoo.

Here's my question and answer session with myself, or someone else, if anyone still reads 'me'.

If, I knew that someday I would lose my health, WHAT would I have done differently in my TWENTIES.
This has nothing to do with my choice of husband or wealth of children.  It's simply, if I knew I was going to become 'sick', then WHAT would I have done that would be impossible, today.

1). Join the Peace Corps (which sends my radically right-wing Republican conservative husband into a Keith Olbermann-like tailspin, but hey, it is what it is.)

2). Given more blood.  A lot more.  Cuz I used to, every now and again, and well, now I can't.

3). Imbibed in alcohol a whole lot more, learned how to smoke cigarettes, and maybe even, well, experiment with 'stuff' that is illegal in all 50 states.  At this juncture, I can't do any of those things, and honestly, I never really 'drank' until I was 29.  In retrospect, I would have liked to have tried some of these things with people I trusted.  But there weren't very many of them around.  But I could have asked my Dad, hey Dad, here I am, at oh, 26, and I think I'd like to try THIS, because I've never tried it before, I want to know what the big deal is, and I know that you won't let anything bad happen to me.  There it is. I wrote it down.  I made it real.  Yeah, sinful as it may seem, sinful as it truly is, I would have experimented, just a bit, with someone I trusted, Dad or no Dad. 

4). I think I would have had a lot more fun in the past 20 years if I wasn't so guarded, if I just 'let loose' and TRIED to have a good time, rather than built up more walls than Ft. Knox.  Judge me if you like, but the Jeopardy Queen hath spoken, and wonders if I would have gotten more or less answers correct if I were intoxicated at 7 pm on a Thursday.  Interesting. 

5).  I would have stayed single longer, worn makeup sooner, and accepted the fact that yes in fact, you are a girl, Rojo, accept it and move on, cuz you damn sure ain't getting anything altered, duh.  Again, 29 was my magic number, and I really don't know why.  But I think if I had done all these things sooner, I never would have had....

6).  The blasted 'first'.  I can't even use the word 'marriage' here, because it wasn't.  Let's just say, that KNOWING WHAT I KNOW NOW, it never would have happened, and I regretted it as I was saying the vows, KNOWING it was a mistake, and I have since conveyed that fact and those feelings to my little 8 going on 23 year old daughter, in the hopes that she'll trust her 'gut' someday.  So maybe that was 'the reason'.  So I could spread the word.  If you ain't feeling it, don't do it.

6).  Toured the world before it became unsafe to do so. Unsafe not just because I am an albino of an American, freckled, frail and fair, and could never 'pass' for anything else, but also unsafe because I got sick with an inflammatory autoimmune disease that a Pakistani psychiatrist in Clermont, Florida translated into "brane injuree"?  I would have gone to the Motherland (Ireland), and I would have fit in beautifully.  Heck I might have even stayed there awhile.  Attempted to attempt to speak the 12 years of French that I allegedly 'learned', while traipsing down the Champs-Elysees, which happen to be what I believe are the two prettiest words ever spoken, in any language - chaun-zz-aye-lee-zay.  Say it with me:  chaun-zz-aye-lee-zay.  Like butter.  I would like to have said chaun-zz-aye-lee-zay while sitting at a cafe along the Champs-Elysees, with a mouth filled with French bread and French butter.  And of course, French wine.

7).  I would have been kinder.  Not just once.  Not just twice.  Always, and to everyone.

End of discussion.

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