Mavis: Nearly 50.

My husband turned 42 yesterday. 42 is a very good number according to my sister... because 4 is divisible by 2 and both numbers are even, safe and solid... as such descriptors make everything okay. To most people, 42 signals early forties.

To my husband, 42 means "nearly 50."

Well, at least he's consistent. Last year he was "9 years away from 50." He was never, by his own admission, 41 years old. As each year passes, he is simply a year closer to being 50. 

I'm not really sure what will happen when he reaches his 50th year. I assume it will be like this:

Whereas when I turn 50, I will want to have a huge party and do back-bends in fringed frocks with Jack Nicholson, like this rockin' bitch:

I don't know why people fear getting older. I don't. I'm mostly looking forward to getting older. Here is a short list of awesome rewards that we will get we get old:

1. Retirement $

2. Longer naps

3. Better parking

It's important to consider the good with the bad. So as my husband scrunched up his sour but handsome 42-year old face this weekend to blow out his birthday candles, I thought hey man - this isn't really that bad. According to Vogue, 42 is the new toddler. And given his youthful appearance, impish enthusiasm and adorable addictions to regular fitness, a healthy diet and the occasional ice cream and doughnuts, I'm sure his 42 is even less offensive than most other people's 42. Yet he fears old age as if it lurks on the other side of every door he opens, waiting to drag the life out of him. Perhaps it's this perpetual fear that keeps him so young.

Anyhoo, cheers to you my love as you continue on your rapid ascent to ... 50.

(Just kidding.)