I've been thinking a lot about entering that 'time' in my life. You know the 'time'; your kids are nearly grown, it hurts to walk when you get out of bed, your hips seem to have dropped, you use more anti-aging cream than hairspray, you think sensible shoes are sensible; yeah that time. MIDDLE AGE. Uhg. The average woman in the United States lives to be about 80 years old, so by my calculations I'm on the falling side of the dreaded metaphorical hill. Or am I? The way I see it, the first 40 years is like riding a really scary roller coaster (I know its an overused cliché' but play along). One that zips and jerks you around, drops you when you're not looking, spins you in circles until you're about to barf, then surrenders you into middle age where your hair is a hot mess and you've had the shit beaten out of you. You’re left with only a simple, knowing smile on your face. Now, with 40 more years ahead of you, you have a choice. You can say "that took too much out of me, I'm going to go get ice cream and ride the amusement park train" OR you can say "WHOA! That was crazy fun, let’s do it again!" Only this time you know.