September 4th, 2021

I’m 12 days away from being 53 years old.

No, I’m not ashamed to say it.
I’m actually quite proud that I’ve made it this far, without some fatal situation occurring.
AND I don’t say that with any sense of morbidity…not really…well, as much as one can’t be morbid when talking about death…BUT I say it with boat loads of gratitude.
You see, I’ve done a lot of to-ing and fro-ing in my life…in cars, on bikes, on rollerblades (god help us all, thank GODDESS someone stole those death machines out of my luggage on a flight from Cleveland to Halifax back in the 90’s), roller-skates (and hellooooo to the 80’s), snowmobiles (I had my own, for a while), motorcycles (that was a VERY long time ago…like the 70’s…I WAS A CHILD, PEOPLE), travelling all around the world on trains, boats, ships, planes, in canoes, kayaks (I’m still building up my confidence but I DO paddle on Lake Ontario…in a LIFE JACKET…CALM DOWN!!) and by the steam my own two feet…and during all these journeys, I’m glad that the universe has seen fit to keep me safe and alive…that being said, I will also give myself SOME of that credit…though I HAVE made a few dangerous choices and been in more than one tight spot, on a number of occasions.
Like the time I found myself in an alley way, by the ocean, in South Africa with a sea lion, and two guys with knives…they were using the knives to cut up bloody meat, to feed the sea lion…but still.
Don’t believe me?

See?
I hope that all makes me sound a bit badass, as well as illustrates the luck involved in getting me to today.
SO WHAT I’M SAYING IS, I’m grateful and blessed to have made it THIS far and I do hope to go on much farther…as long as I don’t need someone to manage my behind, after a trip to the bathroom…which is maybe FAR more than anyone needs to hear, BUT THAT doesn’t make it any less true…and, let’s be real, this behind situation probably will happen and I will deal.

I’ll be proud to be 53…though it does sound WAY old…but, what is the saying?
Oh yes…

“Aging is far more appetizing than the alternative.”

I paraphrased that, obviously.

In my life, and for MOST of my life, my birthday has been an exciting time for me.
Historically, I’ve always really looked forward to it, up until about five years ago.

If I HAD to put my finger on the beginning of the downward birthday spiral, like, if I was thrown into a cage with hungry tigers and my escape depended on that piece of information…I would HAVE to say that it started on my 49th birthday, a “celebration” that was sloppily combined with my 24th wedding anniversary (which was to be my last) and my soon-to-be-ex’s upcoming 50th birthday.
Something that should have been fairly exciting and upbeat, was actually a brutally depressing occasion, that took place in a very dark and questionable hotel room on the edge of Toronto…a setting which is NOW quite ironic, in my rearview mirror.
And like, really ironic…not Alanis ironic.
On my 49th, my soon-to-be-ex and I watched shitty TV in that yucky room (that had dirty socks in the corner when we walked in the first time…THE FIRST TIME) and ate greasy take-out in a uncomfortable queen size bed…surrounded by and drowning in a great deal of unhappiness.
This day was an expression of the death-rattles of a very unhappy marriage.

AND? To top it ALL off? NO CAKE was produced.

It was…it was just fucking sad.
That day was probably, in retrospect and without hyperbole, one of the most clueless and sad days of my entire life.
And the next day…sigh…was really no less brutal, maybe just a bit less sad…and also in retrospect.
The next day, I put together a hasty gathering at a bar to honour my soon-to-be-ex’s upcoming 50th, and, unbeknownst me, I invited, laughed and spent the entire evening with two people who knew my then-husband was in the midst of a two year affair.

I INVITED THEM.
READ THAT AGAIN.

Gross.
Just gross.
As I spent the next few crappy birthdays rolling THAT little nugget (among other nuggets) around in my mind, it was NO less gross.
A few weeks after the terrible hotel weekend, my then-husband actually spent HIS 50th birthday on the east coast, where his (unbeknownst…that word again…to me) mistress lived.
(WIDE EYED EMOJI)
His birthday trip occurred while I stayed in Toronto, still clueless, to perform a kid’s cabaret about anxiety and body positivity.
Ug, the brutality of this birthday situation is aching, right?
How clueless WAS my clueless?
Answer: Alicia Silverstone in Clueless.

SIDEBAR: During tax time the next year, my sister (who did my taxes with me, because…well, because I needed moral support, to be quite honest) and I went through my receipts and found some from my ex’s receipts from his 50th Birthday trip…receipts which had obviously gotten mixed up with mine…and the topper?
A found myself clutching a receipt from his 50th birthday trip, dated, which actually had the woman who he had the affair with’s name on it.
I mean.
What the.
Enough.
Enough already.
I waved the offending receipt in my sister’s direction like a flaming piece of garbage, and railed on about it for about ten solid minutes, punctuating each thought with a manic chug from my Diet Coke bottle.
She waited for me to flame out, then nodded, touched my hand, smiled and said

She: Well, at least you won’t have to go through this again next year, right? This is it. Let’s get this done! What do you want me to tally now?

God bless her.
End of Sidebar.

Well, much to my chagrin, the 49th was just the start.
It was like the DO…the DO of the DO, RE, MI, FA (like in the Sound of Music, you guys) of shitty birthdays…and yes, sadly, there was a FA.

And my 50th?
Well, humans, my 50th birthday happened to fall just months after my marriage finally experienced it’s own fatally explosive event.
Need I elaborate further?
Not really.
God bless my friends (Mike, Maureen, Lisa, Kirk, Louise, Joe, Rebecca, Trevor, Jamie, Karen, Sasha, Constance, Barry, Chandra, Ari, Thom, Micah and Bill) for helping me try to make the very best of that day…and they really did.
I will be forever grateful for my friends, but I can honestly say that since the depressing 49th birthday, all my birthdays (even with the Herculean efforts of my pals) have sadly continued to be a bit of a shit show.
Re.
50 was RE, in the Rodgers and Hammerstein shitty birthday equation.
Just in case you’re keeping musical score.
Ooooh…score…see what I did there?

The 51st?
Well, if you weren’t already sitting, sit down, humans.
FOR the marking of the 51st day since my birth, I decided to reclaim my day, and made a bunch of plans in the small town that I lived in.
A couple of weeks before the big day, I was in my local small town coffee spot, drinking tea, as one does, and noticed a poster on the wall for an upcoming theatre benefit, that would occur ON my birthday.
It was for a cause that the man I was almost divorced from at this point, was heavily associated with and after some prophylactic digging around, I found out he was performing in it.
On my birthday.
In my small town.
What?
WHAT!?

Me: Well, okay…it’s a benefit, Sharron…suck it up. You are bigger than this, Matthews. Suck it up and have your day. ENJOY YOUR DAY.

I straightened my shoulders, and tried to breathe through this information, and decided to keep all my plans.
Should I just have gone to TO for my birthday…maybe?
In the end, I just didn’t want to leave my small town, because he was coming to my small town.
It might have been a way more peaceful day, if I’d left…but…but…I just didn’t want to.
And then?
And then…the kicker, and there’s always a kicker, right?…was that he brought along the woman, whose name of was on that memorable receipt, WITH him TO my small town on my 51st birthday, which was his prerogative.
But that wasn’t the crunchiest part…
…THIS is the crunchiest part (I really do hope you are sitting)…I may never have known he’d brought her, BUT, as is the way of small towns, EVERYONE saw them, and texted and called me to TELL ME.
I mean…COOOOOME ON.
ENOUGH ENOUGH ENOUGH ALREADY.
AND THAT, people, was my 51st birthday….that’s MI.
FUCKING MI.
For reals.
I know…I’m laying down and shaking MI head, too.
OH WAIT, I ALMOST FORGOT, THAT NIGHT?…I PIVOTED, with the HELP of THESE FINE PEOPLE!!

I DID go to TORONTO that night, and had an amazing time at the Dakota Tavern, listening to the music of Harrow Fair!!
Lord, the shit of the day almost made me forgot that RE actually turned out in the end!!
ALWAYS a good lesson.
REEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

And my 52nd?
We went back to the sad times….because…
COVID!!!
COVID!!!!!!!
COOOOO—OOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOOO-VIIIIIID!
FAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!
DO, RE, MI, FUCKING FAAAAAAAAA!!!

Honestly, the last four years, with the exception of that wonderful night at the Dakota, and with the addition of the covid times, have really beaten my love of the day out of me…as I sure you can understand….so, about five days ago, when I realized that my birthday was a couple of weeks away…and I’d literally forgotten OR blocked it out…when I remembered, I just thought

Me: Oh fuck…THIS shit again.

Maybe, Sharron, THIS is the time of your life when you just simply don’t care what happens on your birthday anymore.

Maybe my birthday is NOT exciting anymore.

Huh.
BOO HOO, SHARRON.
BOOO BOOOO FUCKING HOOOOO.
So, to be frank and honest with you and myself, I sat in that BOO HOO state for a couple of days, slowly wallowing in a stinky, sticky spiritual mud puddle of my own creation.
Then my friend Ari, who is coming into town, asked me what I would like to do on my birthday, because he would actually be in town…and my stomach turned.
Not about him being here…obviously, because that’s awesome…but about my friggen birthday.

Me: Oh, I don’t know.

He: Well, we gotta do something! I’m your platonic husband…this is what we do! We plan birthdays.

Me (smiles the TINIEST bit): Let me think about it.

So, I started to roll scenarios around in my head…and all of them made me feel blue.
THIS is the continuation of the something I call the Boo HOO State.
The Whoa-is-me state.
The WHY ME state.
Nothing good comes from this state…it is like spinning your wheels on the slick, winter ice.
Yes, as soon as WHY ME shows up, attention must be paid.
You go nowhere in this state.
There is no healing.
There is no joy.
There is no growth.
There is NO peace.
I don’t like this state…AND I’m mad at it as much as I’m mad at Texas right now…which is ALSO a state.

REMINDER: MY BODY, MY CHOICE.

Then, just a couple of days ago, I quite suddenly decided to change my perspective.

Me: Sharron…what if you celebrated EVERY day of September, instead. Like FLOODED OUT THAT SHIT!

So….SO!!! DO, RE, MI, FA, SSSOOOOOO, that’s what I’m doing.

SOOOOOO, I’m turning 53 years old, in the way I should’ve turned 50 years old…but instead am turning 53.
SOOOOOOO, I’m doing something nice, fun, cool, collaborative, and life affirming every damned day.
EVERY GODDAMNED DAY.

Some are big things…some are small…some are simply a change of perspective…like today, I am sitting in the park near my place, typing this and enjoying the outdoors while we still can.
It’s day four of the GREAT SEPTEMBER BIRTHDAY RECLAMATION and I’ve gone for a pedicure, taken my friend Lisa to Wasaga Beach…oh yes, after being balls-hot for weeks, it was all of a sudden cold BUT we didn’t care…I’ve gone out for drinks with a friend I’d not seen in a while, bought a book I’d already read because it made me smile the first time, planned a tubing adventure while it’s still warm and started to plan a big trip for next month (STAY TUNED) to celebrate EVERYTHING…these are things that bring me joy…things that are big and small…these are things that lighten and brighten everyday…things that remind me to celebrate the day I was born…the month I was born.

Things that help me reclaim my life.

AND I say this a lot…but I WILL SAY IT AGAIN because it takes a very long time for this to sink in, but healing takes it own time…healing does not stop or wrap up just because others think it’s time to move on.
Also?
I don’t want to stay silent about the truthfulness of a time in my life that was very difficult because it is uncomfortable for some to talk about or read.
If you don’t like it, don’t listen.
If you don’t agree, don’t read.
Just sayin’.
I don’t think anyone who has experienced this sort of event, should feel like they cannot be honest about how ALL OF THE THORNY AND TERRIBLE PARTS made them feel.
We should not be afraid to tell our stories.
This is what happened.
This is WHY I started to hate my birthday…to be clear….

I started to hate celebrating the day I was born.

No sir.
No ma’am.
Just no.

And, I know what you MIGHT be thinking, will this post make my upcoming birthday any easier, in regards to posting my own truths? (even writing that makes me feel a bit ill…yes…writing about this four years after 49 is still scary)
To be honest, probably not.

And, now that I think of it, I may just wait till after my biggest of big days to post this…yes…yes, that.
Maybe, I will just wait till AFTER September 16th.
AND, TA DA!!!
That is the wisdom of 53, humans.

But, IN THE END, will the posting and the month long celebration make my NEXT birthday even better?
Yes.
I think the answer is yes…AND I’m knitting for my future joy, here folks.
For LA.
AND who knows what the LA of DO, RE, MI, FA, SO, LAAAAAA holds.

Oh, musical threads, they’re my favourite…like one of my FAVOURITE THINGS.
(snorts)

AND, I know what you might be thinking right now…what will I actually do on THE day?
Well, I’m attending the Yom Kippur breaking of the fast, with my platonic husband and his family…and what an honour to be invited.
Yom Kippur, the holiest of days in Judism.
I’ve NEVER celebrated Yom Kippur before and have done a little research about the day…AND PLEASE CORRECT ME IF I MESS ANYTHING UP…but, from my research, I gather it’s a day, that is the peak of the Ten Days of AWE (how inspiring is that?), the ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
The Ten Days of Awe, also know as the Ten Days of Repentance.
From what I’ve read, The Ten Days of Repentance are seen as an opportunity for reflection and change.
Which feels very fitting.

I hope and plan to fill this 30 days with joy…and my use my voice…take in whatever this writing produces, and learn from that, whatever it is…and celebrate the day, the month, that I came into this world.
We all deserve to think we are that important in our own lives, right?

Of course, right.

That’s Bock and Harnick…just to be clear.
Do you know what show I am referencing?
Who knew how much classic musical theatre I was taking in all these years, huh?
Not usually my favourite musical theatre expression, but there you go…you never know what parts of your life you will use to express yourself!!

L’CHAIM!!!

Namaste.

HIGHLIGHTS of the GREAT SEPTEMBER BIRTHDAY/BIRTHMONTH RECLAMATION PROJECT 2021

September 2nd – Lisa and Sharron to Wasaga
The day Lisa and I went to Wasaga Beach.
After WEEKS of 29 degree heat, Mother Nature did her yearly Ontario-Gut-Check…reminding us all that FALL IS ALMOST HERE. It was 17 degrees on the beach on September 2nd.
We wrapped up in sweatshirts and towels, sitting there for four hours, eating trail mix, drinking Bubbly’s, talking shit and laughing.
We both got windburn on our faces.
AND I banked one spit take. Lisa’s fucking funny. Magic.

September 6th – Lady Group on the River
After asking a NUMBER of people to go with me on the Elora Little Rapids Tubing Tour, I almost had to shut the adventure plan down from lack of interest…outside of me, that is.
Everyone was going to be away (the proposed day, was Labour Day), or busy, or would literally rather die than float down a river…so, after I decided that tubing down a lazy river on my own was even TOO solo for me, I contacted my Lady Group.
Yes.
I have a Lady Group.
Yes, you could be jealous…or INSTEAD? You can make your OWN Lady Group.
You see, there’s this awesome group of women who ended up going to the Ritz for cocktails about three years ago, after a TIFF party…and yes, I know how fancy that sounds, and it was, and I embrace it…and this same group of ladies has ended up going for awesome dinners, about every three months after, until COVID struck.
Everything we say at our dinner is in the cone of silence, every drink we have is fully drunk, every morsel is savoured (we eat GOOD food) and every story that is told, is pretty much golden.
These women are rock stars.
I don’t see them all the time, but they are all pretty solid bets for fun and support.
Anyhow, I was really feeling the birthday-bummage around September 1st (this was kinda the tipping point for the GREAT SEPTEMBER BIRTHDAY RECLAMATION) and after asking a good number of my closest humans and being turned down, I was waxing a bit pathetic.
Then I thought, “You know what? Fuck this shit…I’m reaching out to the Lady Group that I have not seen in forever”, and I sent the following message:

Okay, Women.
I don’t know what your Labour Day is like…but I’ve been trying to find someone to go
with me on this River Tube Ride on Monday at 1:30pm.
It’s a little late notice…and I almost booked it by myself…but I cannot imagine a sadder thing that a solo woman SLOWLY bobbing down a lazy river.
You might as well put on Stevie Nicks singing LANDSLIDE, as the tortured soundtrack.
What do you guys say? Anyone?

My phone immediately started to ping.

Jeni: Yes!! Yes, I’d love to go! Can I bring my one of my girls?

And then

Arwen: Oh my god, yes! You are NOT floating down that river alone, girl. NO LANDSLIDE FOR YOU.

And in that VERY second I was SO glad I reached out.
In that VERY second I felt transported to Happy Land.

When we left Toronto on the morning of September 6th, it was 22 degrees, by the time we got to the Grand River Raceway, the staging ground for this little adventure, it was 19 degrees.
For reals.
But we are Canadians, goddamn it.
And like any good Canadian, we put T-shirts on over our bathing suits, put our phones in those (hopefully) waterproof cases, slathered ourselves in SPF, strapped on ugly water-shoes (that was just me), grabbed our tubes and life jackets, donned our masks and boarded an ancient school bus, and like a middle school trip, we all chugged along to the entry point.
After we got off the yellow school bus, our rag tag socially distanced group of twenty was pointed towards the river, and told not to fall down the VERY steep hill on the way to the entry point…a couple of times, they told us not to fall down the hill, as we all pumped up our tubes…then the bus left.
That was the guide part, I guess.
We were totally left to our own devices…of course, we’d signed a waiver and had been given general directions, and the river only flows one way, after all…so, we scaled the hill, which was indeed steep, and we entered the river.

It was gorgeous.
It was rocky.
It was WAY harder than we ALL thought it would be.
We paddled a lot.
A lot.
Like…a real whole bunch of paddling.
We tried not to run into the rock faces that lined the river.
Our asses were dragged over stones.
We ended up in the weeds.

Me (as I madly paddled to find a current): Nowhere on the website did it mention we’d be fighting for our lives, the whole time!!!!!

Honestly, it was the fastest two hours of my life.
I love it when you are so engaged in the activity, that you become a part of time.
In the moment, Sharron, that’s the place to be.
At one point Jeni, who like the rest of us had been madly paddling the whole time, directed our attention to a young man, who had taken off his jacket and water shoes, and was smoking a doob, just going with the flow…floating right by us.
He was just living his best life, while we were struggling.
We all stopped paddling unless we really needed to, and let the current take us.
Right?
When I told this story to my trainer a couple days later, he pointed out that THAT dude was kinda floating by us…just like the patriarchy.
I stopped mid stretch, and pondered that.
He’s not wrong.

It was a really glorious day.
When Izzie (Jeni’s girl, who I ended up doing a great deal of the journey with) and I, rounded the last corner and realized it was over, we were just astounded that two hours had gone by.
I pulled my red tube out of the river with a bit of melancholy…BUT I had not missed one moment of the ride.
Not one.
Oh, also? I fell out of my tube at one point and Jeni was laughing so hard I thought she would pee herself.
I DID pee myself.

Then Arwen and I went for fish tacos, after.
The were fucking amazing.
It was a truly magnificent day.

 

September 7th – Saw My Pals After Almost A Year
I met my pals Joe and Louise at the ice skating rink at Harbourfront, to have an evening drink.
There are a number of picnic tables arranged on the place where we will be skating in just a few months, after the weather turns.
We’d not seen each other for the entire pandemic, what with the rules and bubbles, so now that we are all double vaxxed, I rode my bike over to meet them in the middle of our two places.
It was so wonderful to see their faces, and we talked and talked as the sun went down.
I told them about my GREAT SEPTEMBER BIRTHDAY RECLAMATION (they’d been at my 50th) and Louise asked what my special thing was that day.
I put my arms up towards them and smiled.
After I left them, filled with the singular joy of having connected with humans that I love, I had the most warm and wonderful summer night bike ride home.
You know the kind, I bet…where the wind is just the right temperature, to cool you BUT not make you cold.
My legs were just so strong, moving my bike like a rocket.
Musicians were playing on the waterfront as I zoomed by.
Couples were walking hand in hand.
Skateboards flew by me.
I knew it would be the kind of summer night that I would hold onto, and picture behind closed eyes, when winter takes over.
I will hopefully skate on that surface later this year, and I will remember sitting there in my shorts and missing taking a picture of the brilliant sunset, because I was too engaged in the moment, with my friends.
THE MOMENT, SHARRON. That is the thing.

September 10th – Tattoo #3, Then Went Out For The Caesar Salad, Stayed for the Rats.
LA.
THIS IS LA of Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, LAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Early in the day? I got a tattoo.
Yes, I did. My third.
I wrote about it in one of my earlier posts on How VERY Dare She…the word TATTOO is in the title, so it should be obvious…I explained it ALL there.
After I was tatted, moisturized, taped up and sent on my way, I met my dear pals, Dave and Tim for dinner in the West End.
We went to this cute little Italian restaurant in Parkdale, scoring a great table on the patio.
Just after we ordered, I watched a rat run down the Tyrollean staircase from the second floor deck, to about six feet from my feet.
I felt like I was in Cinderella for a moment, re: Tyrollean staircase.
Then I screamed.
Then I laughed and pretended I was fine.
That rat made three more appearances during our mostly wonderful dinner…and yes, I am going to pretend it was the same rat.
That being said, the company was primo and the Caesar salad was the perfect amount of garlic-ie.
The rat…well, the rat can fuck off.

September 11th – Dirty Dancing…again.
Yes, I watched all of Dirty Dancing.
For the 2456778666547th time. IT HOLDS!! FOR ME, ANYHOW!!
I think Patrick Swayze is still a fucking dish.
Gorgeous.
Dangerous.
Mostly shirtless.

September 12th – 13th -Solo Camping with a side of SHAWSHANK
I took my new camping gear out for a spin to Earl Rowe Provincial Park.
Just for one night, people.
I’m more realistic now, about how hard it is for me to sleep on an air mattress, on the ground.
It was fairly awesome, though.
It rained like the devil and my new tent held UP.
I got up, everything was wet (also, as the devil), so I packed my wet stuff, got in the car in my pyjamas and drove home.
I was so unkempt, that when I got on the elevator in my building, a dude looked at me and said, “Camping”.

Me: It’s that obvious, huh?

He laughed.
When I got up to my apartment, I stripped off everything, had a 45 minute shower, then laid down on the couch…turned on SHAWSHANK Redemption and marvelled at the combo of Stephen King and Morgan Freeman…and a very good tale.
I watched it for the 4664700021415166th time.
Take Away: If Andy can live through two months in solitary and then crawl through 500 feet of shit to get free, I can certainly learn to sleep in a tent.

September 15th – Roses Are Pink, I Am Blue.
Found myself Birthday Eve blue today…decided to just let it be, and not try to fight it.
Had a baked potato for dinner, bought myself roses (deep pink) AND daisies (white), and French braided my hair.
I forgot why people love roses so much…the smell is just glorious…and they are SO meaty.
Talked to Lisa on the phone and she never fails to cheer me up.
Watched the sunset off my balcony as we talked. I felt content.
You never know where the day will take you, right?

September 16th – Nothing Says “Birthday” Like GUT HEALTH
This morning I woke up, put on a fresh t-shirt with my underwear (because that somehow, at this point in the pandemic seems like dressing up for a Zoom appointment), and logged on with my naturopath.
On January 1st of this year, I vowed to take my body back.
…from aches…
…from heart palpitations…
…from sad gut…
…from hot flashes…
…from sleepless nights…
…from anxiety…
BASICALLY FROM ALL THE PERIMENOPAUSAL SYMPTOMS I’d been experiencing that were really affecting my quality of life…and to THAT end, among other things, I started working with a naturopath.
A naturopath who helped me get ALL my healthcare professionals on the same page…and if THAT is not powerful, I’m not sure what is.
So, after A LOT of self-care…many bumps in the proverbial road…it was wonderful to check in with her on this day of days, and see where all this care has gotten me.
I have A LOT OF WINS.
No aches.
NONE MANY HOT FLASHES.
Sleepless nights reduced to just one visit to the ladies (my bathroom, if it’s not clear)…with a lot of sleep on both ends.
Anxiety is managed…and if not, I have many tools that I go to.
Gut is 80% better.
Heart palps only happen once a month…sound familiar…and we are just focusing on those, right now.
A LOT OF WINS!!
TAKE THE SPIRIT BACK, AND THE BODY WILL FOLLOW…TAKE THE BODY BACK, AND THE SPIRIT WILL FOLLOW….Both are required.
I will say here…I think one of the greatest editions to my life, besides the naturopath and my trainer, is meditation.
It’s been life changing.
OH, and boundaries. : )

The funny thing about today?
Since I have been celebrating for the whole month (and will continue to), there’s no pressure to make today magnificent.
It’s special day, no doubt…but it is just one of 30. : )
THE crazy stress is off.

The Yom Kippur breaking of the fast at Ari’s parent’s house was just lovely.
It was the perfect evening, really.
I’ve not had a lot of examples of two really awesome parents, so when I was sitting in front of Debi and Alex Weinberg, watching them with my dear pal, Ari, it was a bit of a wonder for me.
It made sense as to why Ari turned out so special.
We had lox, bagels, cream cheese, blintzes (holy crap, they were good) and they got me a cake…my favourite kind, store bought vanilla slab cake.
I’m a gal who loves a grocery store cake…with sprinkles…sue me.
We played a board game.
Alex Weinberg is to be watched, he won three of three games.
I’m not saying he cheated? But I am not NOT saying it. (He didn’t)
And I laughed. A lot.
As you might have gleaned from my writing, I value a good laugh.
I was sad to leave, but when I drove home I felt so full…spiritually and with cake.
The night just flew by…again…I was a part of time. I was in it.
I was mindful.
MOMENT, SHARRON.

It was a really wonderful day.
I am fucking grateful.

Also, yesterday, I had a million messages in voice mail, email, text, socials…the internet is good for a birthday, it is known.
But just before I went to bed…I listened to all my voice mails and the last one was Brent Wees saying the following inspirational words

He: Happy Birthday, Fuck Face.

Poetry, right?

Also, I put up a video on the Insta in which I am naked AND YOU CAN ONLY SEE ME FROM THE SHOULDERS UP, SO CALM DOWN…and someone asked if I could be their Sugarmummy.

I will only say this

Me: How VERY dare you.

September 18th, 2021 – Back The IMAX. And Popcorn Needs Butter.
After a lot of navel gazing with Ari, I decided that I wanted to see a movie and go to dinner with a small group of pals, to further celebrate.
This is the day that Ari planned.
I’m going to say here, that it started with Ari at my place, watching the penultimate episode of Nine Perfect Strangers…I cannot tell you how much I enjoy watching Nicole Kidman eat the walls…while Ari gave me an honest to god foot rub.
I felt guilty at first, and then I just felt grateful.
I told him I felt weird.
He told me to prepare to feel amazing.
Halfway through, I said

Me: You know what? I would be fine just with just foot rubs, forever…if it wasn’t for orgasms. Which I can give myself. You know what? I need to think on this.

Ari looked nonplussed.
I laughed.
He continued.

We met my dears Lisa, Kirk and their kids, my honorary niece and nephew, Ella and Calum, and went to the IMAX in Yonge and Dundas Square, to see Shang Chi.
While we stood in the line to get popcorn, Lisa and I duetted on what we each had brought with us in our purses…cans of pop, twizzlers, chocolate bars…everything EXCEPT popcorn.
When I was talking to my trainer I was going to the movies for the first time in two years, I told him I was gonna get popcorn, he asked if I was going with butter or no butter.

Me: Why do you want to live unhappy? Why?

He: You’re right. It’s like sex without the orgasm, enjoy…8 more reps, Sharron.

Popcorn.
Butter.
Layered.
Orgasm like? Maybe.

The movie was awesome.
The company was even better.
We all went to Betty’s…one of my favourite spots…for dinner…and a few others came…Rebecca and Trevor, Mickey…and it was loud…and I loved it.
Then, I was suddenly as tired as I have ever been.
It was 10pm.
And I joyously embraced it.

Me: Well, I love you guys, but I’m tired.

And we all went home.
A grand day was had.

Sept 20th, 2021 – Hikes Are Awesome, Burgers Are Too, When I See Pink Glitter in Nature, It Makes Me Blue…and I vote.
So, I voted. Got up early to do so. It was very civilized…and I moved on with my day.
Shawn Hitchins, a wonderful friend, author, double vaccinated human, and raconteur (yes, I said it) and I drove about an hour to Ancaster to have an adventure day.
I love adventure days…the tubing day was ALSO an adventure day, just for clarity on WHAT exactly adventure is to me.
I wanted to hike some waterfalls. Shawn also wanted to hike waterfalls.
The first part of the hike actually pretty much dumped us at the BEST waterfall…like, 5 minutes in…right out of the proverbial hiking gate.

Every waterfall after that was a bit of a let down, but we still managed joy at their existence…except for the refuse that we found left on the rocks, at the base of Sherman’s Falls.
There was blue and pink glitter everywhere, plus blue and pink ribbons and paper launchers of glitter.
Gender reveals are already antiquated, as the person in utero has not told the world what gender they are. Only they know…and they are without voice, as of yet.
So, to see the litter of someone deciding who someone else is, is more than a bit offensive to nature…on a few levels.
The rest of the hike was fairly glorious, in comparison.
That part of Ontario, which is on the Bruce Trail, is so gorgeous.
I love going there, when I can.
Shawn and I then had HUGE hamburgers at a place he’d found years ago by inputting the wrong spelling of the word hamburger into google.
Life is funny, huh?
It’s his favourite burger place…and was the perfect food after almost 16,000 steps.
WE also saw a guy with a very vibrant FUCK TRUDEAU t-shirt proudly marching around downtown Hamilton, with a huge smile on his face.
Well.

SIDEBAR: One of my favourite parts of celebrating everyday of my birthday month, is when the someone I’m with asks what my celebration is that particular day…and I tell them that it’s them…and then the look of chagrin on their faces.
It’s quite spectacular.
Everyone I’ve said those words to has looked the aforementioned chagrined, quickly followed by chuffed…and how can you NOT love that?
Who doesn’t like to be a celebration?
END OF SIDEBAR.

Also, Trudeau won. : )

September 25th, 2021 – One Wedding and A Dating App.
The day was grey, the air was cold and I had pink lipstick on.
Pink.
PINK, again…huh?
Pink seems to be a theme this month.
You know what? I wonder if PINK is symbolic of something…hold on…I’m gonna google.
Oh, PINK represents femininity (which makes me shake my head a bit, but actually tracks as I am finally in a dress, wearing my favourite pair of knee high, vegan (read: man made), imitation snake skin boots, topped off by my lipstick) and, it says here PINK represents nurturing….oh, I love that…
…and ROMANCE…which really works because TODAY I went to my niece’s long-put-off-due-to-COVID wedding.
EVERYONE needed to be double vaxxed to attend and had to prove it…my niece works in long term care, so she isn’t fucking around.
The whole thing was outside, and since the weather forecast was calling for rain, there were two tents and my sister, who hosted the wedding, was more than too tense about the possible threat of rain.
Ha.
Hahahaha.
My plus one, a bow tied Ari, and I showed up just in time to whisk the dog leash (attached to dog, Jackson) from the groom and watch my niece walk through my sister’s garden, looking as beautiful as can be.
It was a lovely service.
It was a spectacular day, and it had NOT one thing to do with the weather.
The skies literally opened up after they said I DO.
One of the gents at the wedding ran to his truck, grabbed another tent and set it up.
No one…not one person cared about the rain.
We were just so happy to be almost normal, though we all still mostly wore masks.
I wore mine almost all day, till the crown thinned out.
I’d not seen my whole family in two years and I didn’t realize till today how badly it had affected my spirit…
…how much their absence had leaned on all my shit, as it were.
We had such an amazing day…we laughed…and laughed…and talked…and laughed…and I just kept saying to Ari (who was, as you might imagine, a huge hit) how thrilled I was to be there, and wasn’t it a great day?
Later in the day, when he and I drove back to TO, I couldn’t get the smile off my face.
We are perfectly, imperfect, my family…and I’m so grateful for each and every one of them.
They are the kind of people who stick.
They support.
They circle the wagons.
They piss me off.
I piss them off.
We piss each other off.
We figure it out.
WE…like most…have been through some shit…and we still get together and laugh. And laugh.

Oh, yes, at the beginning of the day, in the spirit of romance (PINK), I laid in bed and went through my dusty dating apps…as you may remember, I decided that I was just fine without them, but a little look during my birthday month celebration wouldn’t kill anyone, right?
Of course, right.
About ten swipes in, the man that I was married to for almost 25 years appeared on a dating profile, in front of me and I…I…well, to be completely honest, I made a very strange sound in my throat…then I paused…then, for some reason I cannot explain, I put the phone screen as close to my eyes as I could get it.
Then?
I laughed…and NOT because he was on a dating app…and I wasn’t laughing about whatever occurred to bring a him to a dating app… but because, as I laid there and looked at the picture, I realized I didn’t really car, AND I felt almost nothing about it all.

BLOOP.

Four years after that terrible hotel room DO (of Do, Re, Mi Fame) 49th…and I felt, almost nothing.
Three years after my RE 50th birthday, which was not one of my best moments, and really should have been…today, I felt almost nothing.
Two years after the weird, smalltown broken telephone ME 51st…which might have been better, but turned out to not be…but still managed to turn out….here I am now, almost nothing.
And one year after the pandemical kick-in-the-ass FA 52nd?
I do believe I’ve officially moved on.
Onward.
And part of moving onward, is being able to see where you’ve been.

Do(h)…the ouch-event.
Re(Ray)…the realizations.
Mi(Me)…looking inside.
Fa(R)…time passes.
Sooooooo….here we are, Sharron.

I laid in my bed and laughed and laughed and laughed, just spilling joy…and hit the X on the corner of the picture…threw the phone on my bed, got up, showered, put on my dress, my lipstick and faux snake skin boots…and went out into the world.
Light.
Free.
Unfettered.
ALMOST unfazed…
…it was fucking weird, no doubt, but it was…in the grand scheme of my life? Nothing really.
Live your life. I will live mine.
The synchronicity of the moment inside the SO WHAT, of my DO, RE, MI, FA, SOOOOO was not lost on me.
Not at all.
Life is soooooooooo fucking funny.
You just gotta laugh.
After I donned my foxy outfit, I put on my sunglasses, my mask, and stomped my boots forward, into the final turn of my amazing birthday month…and laughed some more.

P.S. Ari was hugged by every member of my family, when we left the wedding. EVERY member. Again, he was a real hit.

There was a point, just after the vows, where Ari and I (he holding my PINK umbrella over my head) took the dog, Jackson, to the basement, and while we were getting the dog to stay inside, my sister ran by and grabbed the umbrella from Ari in a mad-mother-of-the-bride audible call (and you thought I wasn’t sporty), stranding us under an awning for about 20 minutes, as the skies wept around us.
We stood there and talked, took our picture, laughed at stupid shit, waiting for my sister, who never came back.
Of course, she didn’t. She had shit to do.
But it was a moment of such air and joy, as the rain beat on the ground all around us, that I wanted to clock it.
MOMENT, SHARRON.

I was happy as fuck.
Like…as FUCK.
Life IS funny…and rainy…and funny in the rain…and peace…there is sweet peace and happiness that does not have to have a shoe drop on it.

In the end, Ari and I hitched a ride under someone else’s umbrella and went back to the party.
CAKE was HAD, this time.
Vanilla first…and then Ari and I split a chocolate piece.
Shrimp was eaten.
Stories of the last two years were told, like in olden days.
I saw people at that wedding, I’d not seen in twenty years.
At the end of the night, I had a woman take my picture…drunkenly hand me her phone…and asked me to text my name in so she could google me in the morning, because she heard I was on a TV show.
Again, life, right?

The sober drive home (neither Ari or I drank) was filled with questions, answers and a glow I’ve not had in a long time.
My gratitude at bed time, was almost too long to list in the dark comfort of my bedroom.

September 27th – 28th, 2021 – A Bike Rack, A Dealership Visit, A Dream
I went to the dealership…I know, but it was my only option…to get a hitch put on my KIA.
I asked the gentleman who checked me in, to look the car over, because of my fast approaching, big road trip (AGAIN, STAY TUNED).
He proposed service option #2, which when he ran down the menu, seemed like the perfectly appropriate course of action.
As I handed him my key, I added, through the foggy, plexiglass shield

Me: Please find nothing wrong with it.

And they didn’t.
Read THAT again.
My car was perfectly fine.
At the dealership…after asking for them to look for shit that was wrong.
I mean, if that isn’t a celebration, I don’t know what the hell is.
I got the hitch put on, so I can plop a rack on my car, plop my bike on that rack, and take it with me on my travels across Canada…a trip which commences in less than two weeks.
Doesn’t that sound goddamned delicious?
It’s the trip I’ve always dreamed of.
It will be the belated cherry on this month.
Well, if I didn’t know better, it would seem I’m determined to make this month last forever.
And yesterday? I bought my new bike rack, to put on that hitch
And today? I put it on the recently affixed hitch, without wanting to kill myself TOO much.
There was a moment when I thought I would not be able to get the rack on alone, but I was pretty determined to do it myself, that I figured it the fuck out.
SOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

As I basked in the glow of putting that heavy piece of metal on my car, I puttered around my place, listening to a message from my friend, Patty.
She was musing about how wonderful the birthday month was going.
She wondered out loud, if a person could live like this everyday…if one could do it without blowing your bank account.
I sent her a message

Me: You know what Patty? So much of this month was free. Seeing people, hiking, watching old movies, rereading books I love. So so sooooooo much of it was free. You know what? That’s my new dream? To try and do something nice for myself everyday. Something that reminds me how wonderful it is to be alive.

Two more days till the end of September. : )

September 29th, 2021 – Facebook Memories = Evil Genius. Discuss.
Opinion: Facebook Memories are indeed illustrations of moments…but, no matter how long or hard we try and turn off notifications, these stupid moments we sometimes wish to never see again, present themselves in technicolor…because, social media can really suck. And if you HAVE to see the fucking moment…you might as well learn something from it.

(Please read the following to the tune of The Beatles Song, A DAY IN THE LIFE)
Woke up, got out of bed.
Put my phone n’ front of my head.
Scrolled through my apps, and had a tea…
Up Facebook popped, it showed my mem-o-ries.

Clicked the link, and saw my post.
Spied my ex, and clocked my dogs.
Was a glowing thread from twenty seventeen…
I was extolling the virtues of a man turning 50 (this one does not totally scan…but I stand by it)

WHILE HEEEE WAS IN NEWFOUNDLAAANNNDDDD…
WITHHHH HIS MISSTREESSSSS, NOT WITH ME….
GetTING
ReCEIPTS.
WITH her NAME.
(end of song)

I mean, you gotta laugh, right?
I’ve written better parody lyrics, but still…I didn’t want to spend too much time on it…just wanted to get the general point across.
Yes, as previously mentioned, I’m not a big fan of the Facebook Memory feature…but…
…THERE is NOTHING like a healthy reminder, to help you clock your healing and your life.
FEELING very onward.
Like tattoo day, it was VERY LAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

While the post stung like a mosquito (it just did, that is being human), I squashed it like the minor annoyance it was…and I moved on.
I had a pretty fierce day, y’all.
One of my favourite ALL month.

After I dropped my bike off at a repair shop that was run by a man named Ang, who happened to be the central casting version of a man who would run a bike shop, I took Ari to the mothership.

MEC.

I AM SO EXCITED about doing the first leg of my cross country trip (Stay Tuned) with Ari…and hiking!!
With great energy and excitement I dragged Ari ALL around the store, pausing at my favourite section (bags and backpacks, I need none but still like to look at them), in search of new hiking boots and poles.
I’ve never owned trail poles.
So, I got me some poles…the kind a climber of the Everest might have…well, less expensive.
It makes me feel like a fancy hiker…and something of a fraud, at the same time, because they seem so hard core…but what if I need them on my big trip?
Well, if I need them? They will be hanging on my pack, won’t they?
BE PREPARED, SHARRON. You are NOT fraudulent.
I was so jazzed to be in MEC, that I talked a mile a minute and did the happy dance all the way around the store.
A number of people, including a couple very important-acting shoppers for movie wardrobe, asked me if I worked there.
What? ME!?!?
I COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE THRILLED.

Then Ari and I went out of the city, to a Cineplex Odeon in the suburbs, where there would be less humans, and saw a double feature.
Popcorn with no butter…you can’t party with butter every day, people…and two movies.
Free Guy…so good.
Dear Evan Hansen…also so good.
We showed our ID and vaccine passports like a boss.

Is there anything like the luxury of a two movie day, with a side of hiking poles and new boots?…and it WAS the most delightful day.
Again.
Gratitude abounds.
Tomorrow is the last day of my birthday month.
I don’t want it to every end, quite frankly.

September 30th, 2021 – End of THE GREAT RECLAMATION OF THE BIRTHDAY MONTH, and GOSH…are my arms tired.
Well, here we are.
I did it.
What an amazing month.
I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.
Every damned day, 30 in all, powered by my own steam, celebrated in a fashion drawn with my own choices, loves, wants and heart’s desires.
Some days, the joy and anticipation of what I’d arranged was almost too much to handle.
On those days, I couldn’t tell if I was anxious or excited…mostly both, I think.
It’s the same body feeling, it’s really ALL about interpretation.
Yes…to organize so much joy for myself was overwhelming, in moments.
But sometimes, happiness is oddly uncomfortable.
I’ve NEVER made so many plans for happiness, connection and love AND at the same time, AND set a million boundaries, to keep my peace and joy tight to my chest.
It was a humdinger of a lesson, really, safe guarding my time, my happiness and my heart.
What a fucking thing.
I think I can do this every day. Furthermore, I think I SHOULD do this every day.
I really do.
OR, at least WAYYYYY more.
It was a practice. I practiced it.
Without even really realizing it, I practiced scheduling my own adventures and my own happiness…and now, I can settle for nothing less.
I’m in charge of my happiness…AND of my adventure.
I won’t wait for someone else’s happy train to toot-toot by, so I can jump on.
I have my own fucking happy train.
HOW MANY MORE WAYS CAN I SAY IT?
And I didn’t even know what the lasting implications would be when I started this, 30 days ago.

I was quite simply trying to take my happiness back.

It’s fall, now.
There is no doubt about it, you can fill the chill in the air, here in Toronto…and I hope…as I have said ONE MILLION TIMES SINCE I WAS 49, almost 50…I hope, like the leaves let go of the trees, this is me finally letting go of the stain of the last four years of birthdays…five years, really.
You know what, y’all.
I believe it is…and now, after a lot of work, I know my mind.
I really think I’ve made it, you guys.
And if I can make it to the other side, we all can make it.

What is making it, you ask?

MAKING IT (for me) is thinking about those things that happened, the DO, RE, MI’s of it all, and feeling space, seeing the moments as history, grateful for where I am now…wishing no one ill…just honestly wishing them away from me, so I can continue the great search, the great gathering of peace and joy.
The collection of moments.
I made my own closure.
Yes, yes, I did.
Now, I’m quite busy, cultivating my own peace and joy.

AND here I am, celebrating 53 like I should have celebrated 50, but instead it’s 53.
I guess 53 is supposed to be my big deal, huh?
What’s in a number, right?

53 sounds round, smart, and good, to me.
A couple of days ago, I was all…

Me: Holy SHIT!! I am 17 years from 70.

And I laid down on my rug in the living room, and just breathed.
That sounds fucking fucked.

It was almost too much to try and unpack.
But as Ari, Mike and I drove home tonight from Riverdale Park (where Ari, Mike, Joe, Louise, Mickey, Chris and I watched the sunset together to mark the end of my birthday month, while we ate pepperoni and margarita pizzas), Mike mused that we might not make it that long, what with the way climate change is progressing, so from the backseat with my dog niece, Maxine, he suggested that maybe I should whoop it up, and not worry about turning 70.
Huh.
I took so much pause at this thought, I…

Sidebar:
Can you get charged for running a red light, if you admit on virtual paper that you ran it?
Bueller?
End of Sidebar.

….I took so much pause at this thought, I almost ran a red light.

Mindfulness, Sharron.
Moment, Sharron.

Okay, Moment.
And the TI…of the Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do…is that my life is just fucking filled with beautiful people, who I love so dearly.
That is the TI of this 30 days.
My favourite experiences were the ones that involved the humans I love, old and new…and some I REALLY like.
Hiking, floating, talking, eating, walking, sitting, storytelling, driving…almost running red lights.
In person, on phones, messages, texts, Zooms, and Facetimes…people from all around the world.

Also, as is the way of life, when you are trying to live it for the reals, I had great and changing conflict with some of the people I love, this month.
Like, huge.
If I made it sound like it was a totally easy month, which is what happens when you play the highlight reel, it wasn’t.
I hit all the high points in this list…but there were many low points. I’m keeping them for myself.
I had the kind of conflict that made me feel sick and sad, but using as much strength as I could muster I stayed in it…in the moment of it…in the truth of it…realizing all along the way, that I need to remember that I belong to myself, that I am true to myself, first and foremost.
That’s the only way I can be a GOOD friend, a sister, a daughter and any of the other things I might be…that’s the only way not to spin bullshit.
I had the low points…and I survived, to thrive. : )

And that, my friends, all you wonderful humans who have read this far…very far…god bless you…THAT will bring us back to Do.
The last DO.
What’s the circle?
What is the completion of the musical octave?
WELL, huh, I guess, since I’ve made it to the other side, there’s an ending of sorts, but, of course, the year begins again, continues on…doesn’t it? If we are very lucky, it does.
If we are lucky, there are more sides.
But they are different this time.
I think, I get to unhook the dead weight I’ve been carrying…and walk faster, walk lighter, climb stronger, create clearer.

Put down the flaming receipt, Matthews.
Put away the “this is what happened before on my birthday”, Sharron…it’s boring now…and only you care, really.
Bury the “my birthday is sad…” because it’s so not.
Unhook.
You flooded the fuck out of it, and have NO choice but to move on.
AND I really want to stop being afraid of the ramifications of writing facts. Truth.
I will not lie, even writing that line scared me…so I will flood that, too.
When you stop being a victim of the shit that happened to you, there is a strange release, that isn’t totally comfortable, I’m not going to lie.
But fuck it, I don’t want to be anyone’s victim, villain or hero…I would like to just…be me.
Do, Re, Me.
And humans, THIS…is fucking 53.

BOOM.

Namaste.

October 1st, 2021
Toronto, ON. – S.M.

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BE well, humans.