See you next year.

I went out to dinner with my 3 best mates last night. It was to celebrate that the first quarter of our gaggle had just turned 40. The rest of us will join her swiftly over the upcoming year. I know many people freak out at 40, and I will not be one of them. I look back at me at 30, pregnant and trying to navigate corporate life in a series of meetings with speakerphones and whiteboards. I will take 40, thank you very much!

Almost without exception, most gals I know just get better with age. Do you agree? Or is that just me….

My mates were running late and I was running early, so I ordered a glass of Prosecco and treated myself to a little reflection time. I do not do New Year Resolutions, because I have an innate  fear of success and do not like to set the bar too high.

Recently I met with a client who told me that he wanted to see my plan. How do I plan to double my readership in 12 months? How do I expect to build my empire

“What empire?” I asked.

He made it sound like I needed to go back to the white board and meeting rooms. And that sounded like to much work to me.

For about 3 seconds I felt a bit like the ultimate loser. 

Here I was, daring not to build an empire or implementing goals and plans. 

Here I was, on the most basic of all blogs. My photos are rubbish, all taken on my iPhone, and my subjects are more or less mundane.

I just do not think you can build an empire on mundane. Empire makers have PIZAZZ! 

I told him that I had no plans to build an empire, double my traffic or do anything that I wasn’t doing already. I have a small loyal band of readers and my mum. Truth was that I am happy doing what I am doing. I really like writing, simple as that. This is a blog for me.

(But special mention must go to Judy from Canberra, who positively hates my guts and sends me emails to let me know. Happy New Year Judy! I love your turn of phrase. Thanks for reading my blog x)

But mainly I must thank you for visiting each day and reading my mundane. This community (that sprung from no planning) is amazing. Supportive, smart and did I mention funny? The joy I get from reading the comments is unmeasurable, especially the ones that have me rolling on the floor.

One particular post produced some chronic crack ups and small urine emissions this year…

I have been sucked by a wobbegone, but it was all my own fault.  That’s all I am saying. – Seana

Would you believe I got bit on the bits after sitting on two green ants. My whole body welted up, I passed out, peed on my husband (while unconscious omg) and was ferried off to hospital by ambulance. Am now severely anaphylactic – need to carry an epi pen 24/7. Happy days. It was Christmas Eve to top it all off!! – Jules

When my husband and I were on our honeymoon in Tahiti, he was jumped on from behind by one of those massive stingrays. It tried to hump him like a wild horse. 
Left a nice hicky on his back too. – Lisa

I have been kicked by sheep, stood on by cows, thrown on my head by horses, stalked and attacked by a boxer, and you are not going to believe this one but it is totally true . . . I was dragged off the beach by a gigantic octopus when I was three.  No shit.  Next question. 
– Laney

The sea cucumber which attached itself to me with those weird goodgy tentacles when we were in Fiji in the summer of 1983. I thought it was a pretty shell, picked it up and the tentacles came from nowhere to encase my hand. I remember screaming – Kim

Readers make writing this blog so easy. Thank you, all of you. Thanks for the emails and Facebook messages and story suggestions and pointing out my spelling mistakes. Thank you for reminding me that it is ok to be flawed, and that there are plenty of us out there.

And for those 1973 vintages who will be turning 40 with me next year, bring it on! I have decided to be braver with my life. Not resolving to do so, just going to slightly push the boundaries a little bit more than I normally would. Who knows where I might end up in twelve months time?

Hopefully, not being sucked by a wobbegone, but if that is the worst that happens, I will be ok with it.

So here’s to 2013 my friend – May your merkins be glossy, your condom dress stretchy enough to fit in a second helping and your sav blanc forever be poured with a positive meniscus!

See you next year! And thanks again.