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Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five.

In honor of my fiftieth birthday, which is today, I am finishing my 50 Things About Me series.

41. I have a tendency to mark my birthdays these days with things that make me feel young. Four years ago, I went indoor rock climbing because I’m afraid of heights. I managed to make it to the top of the fifty-foot-wall, which, come to think of it, I should do today. I’m totally out of shape and still scared to death of heights. But maybe I’ll sneak over to the gym and try it.

This year, of course, I decided to have my adult bat mitzvah for my birthday. I did it on my Hebrew birthday, on what would have been my original bat mitzvah date. Due to a change in rabbis, I did not study long enough ahead of time to do both haftarah and Torah readings. But I’m going to work with Elisson to learn haftarah trope the right way, and do it again next year.

42. I don’t usually profit from other people’s mistakes. I’ve always handed back the extra cash I get from a bank teller or a cashier who miscounts and gives me one bill too many. I feel terribly guilty if I do. The one time I didn’t was back in 1977, when I was driving from Seattle to San Diego with about $50 in my pocket, and someone at a rest stop restaurant gave me an extra $20 bill in my change. Actually, I felt a little guilty about it, but I also felt a little grateful, because I needed that extra twenty to get me where I was going.

43. I have a tendency to do things that people think are courageous, but I think are just taking advantage of my options. Like flying across the country to live with my cousins to see if I like Seattle enough to move there, or changing careers because typesetting was dead-ending and web work needed to be extended into programming. Or moving to a new state at the age of 44 because, well, what the hell—my old life was changing so extensively that it wasn’t much of a change to also change locations. Old friendships were ending; I’d been laid off from my entry-level programming jobs due to the tech bubble bursting, and my roots were as shallow as they had ever been in New Jersey. So I gave Richmond a try. And here I am, five and a half years later, with roots deeper here than they’d ever been in New Jersey. And mostly happy. Can’t complain. (But of course, I will. I am only human.)

44. Self-improvement is a standard in my life. You can delve into the psychological reasons for it all you want, the fact is, I am constantly trying to change, move forward, and be as happy and satisfied with myself and my life as I can be. This weblog reflects that tendency of mine. I don’t know if I still have anyone here who’s been reading me since the beginning (spring/summer of 2001), but this weblog has undergone as many changes in the past six years as I have.

45. I will admit when I am wrong. I know this seems like a no-brainer, but stop and realize that almost nobody ever admits they are wrong, particularly in the blogosphere. Think about the people in your life, at work, at school, wherever: Nobody ever takes responsibility for screwing up. People rarely apologize. Well. I do.

46. I hold grudges. It’s not something I’m proud of, and I’m trying to change that part of me. But if you piss me off badly enough, you’re done. I have a tough time forgiving. But I will say that forgiveness is a hell of a lot easier if the person I’m angry with actually apologizes. Yeah, that apology thing—it works wonders.

47. The only real regret of my life is that I won’t have a child. Hey, I’m fifty, and the pre-menopausal hot flashes started a year ago. That ship has sailed, that bird has flown, Elvis has left the building. As to adoption, I don’t know. I really don’t want to be a single mother. I was the child of a single mother, and it kinda sucked. On the other hand, I have a legacy. I’m teaching little Jews to become big Jews. Students from every year I taught (and even students who were never my students or assistants) came to my bat mitzvah. So I think that I’m making up for not having one of my own. And then there are all my “nieces” and “nephews” that aren’t blood relations. Yeah, I have kids. They’re just not mine.

48. I make terrible choices in men. That’s why I’m still single. I don’t trust my choices any more, and you know, life’s too short to be constantly hurt by someone who’s supposed to care for you. So I think it’s highly likely I will not be getting married anytime soon.

49. Birthdays tend to make me reflective. This list would probably be a lot less personal if I hadn’t waited until my fiftieth birthday to complete it. On that note, let me assure you that although I have given out a fair amount of personal information in these fifty items, that doesn’t translate into your knowing me well. I have always been offended by people who presume to know me when they don’t. There is a shortening of my name that only my family and very close friends are allowed to use. I get especially annoyed when a new acquaintance shortens my name, and I say in a very frosty tone at its use, “My family calls me that. YOU may call me Meryl.” (I know, I know, it’s petty and stupid, but I really hate presumption. What can I say.)

50. I am still the same dreamer I have always been. I still think I’ll finish and sell that novel that’s been kicking around in my head (and in notes) for years, and then move onto the others. I still think that I will accomplish anything that I set out to accomplish, providing I make a plan and work for it. I believe that the heart has enough room for as many friends as you can make during your lifetime, and then some. And I am still constantly surprised and delighted by the good things that happen. I’ve always been a glass-half-full person. I agree that a cynic is a disappointed optimist, and I have always been cynical—but I’ve also always been optimistic, except during the worst of times. But I recover from the worst of times. Two years ago, I was working three jobs, seven days a week, and still not making enough money to cover my monthly expenses. Today, I have an excellent job with great prospects, I’m getting out of debt, and I discovered this fall how many friends I have made over the last five years. It was a great discovery to make. And best of all, last night I discovered that I fit into my size eight jeans for the first time in months.

So I’m looking at fifty, and life is looking damned good to me. Screw that half-century talk. My grandfather lived to be 98, and he was all there and mostly healthy. The second act of my life awaits. I’m sure it’s going to be better than the first. I’m not too worried. This is a picture of me, Rob (NZ Bear, on the right) and Scott (Citizen Smash) from late January. Try to pick the one who is ten years older than the other two. Yeah, that would be the one surrounded by two hot guys.

I never thought I’d say this, but I’m fifty and lovin’ it.