Today I am 39.  I’m sitting on my couch with a heating pad on my hip and a huge chai latte next to me.  As of right now, I have no bunions, arthritis (except in my knees), and neck problems.  I do have plenty of stretch marks, surgery scars and wrinkles, however.  I’m also a bit bloated (thanks, mother nature!). 

I’m pretty emo about turning 39.  My sis said 39 was worse than 40; so far, I’m agreeing with her.  Next year I want to be on a booze cruise with my girlfriends cougaring around, hitting on 21 year old boys and vomiting over the side of the boat.  Okay, I don’t want to do the cougar or vomit thing, but the rest sounds nice.  Next year I will officially be a divorced single mom of 2 and 40 years old.  This isn’t exactly going as planned, my life, but it’s working out.  I move to a new house in less than one month, I’ve got some amazing people in my life, and I’m healthy and strong (in a myriad of ways). 

Some goals for year 39:

1.  Lose the last 15 pounds.
2.  Run a half marathon.
3.  Run more than 3 miles without dying.
4.  Train Thora to shake and lie down.
5.  Be an incredible mom.
6.  Bring all three of my businesses back to profitability.
7.  Begin repairing my credit which is about to be pooped on.
8.  Have healthy relationships with both men and women.
9.  Stop seeing my therapist so she can go on the booze cruise with me (she’s also turning 40 next year).
10.  Visit Julie in Colorado (and her new daughter!), my sister in Texas, and my friends in Michigan (Tricia, I’m lookin’ at you)

I might be able to accomplish half of those things.

Additionally, it should be pretty easy to have a better year than 38 was.