It’s time to talk about physician-assisted suicide as a conscious choice.

We’re used to talking about choice. The choice to have a child, eat meat, recycle, marry. As responsible, conscious people we make decisions every day. But when it comes to end of life choices, as a society we’re a bit behind.

Jack Kevorkian’s recent death brought back a flood of memories for me. He was my grandmother’s hero. While she was admittedly—and quite proudly—a touch twisted, I happen to agree with her and Jack: We should have a choice when it comes to end of life decisions. Growing up with her in my life, it was impossible not to see suicide as an option. Our first conversation about this took place when I was four. She explained to me that it would be up to her, that made sense to me then and it makes sense to me today.

In my early twenties, well before I met and married my husband, I made my own plans for when I get old. They involve: assisted living, water aerobics and my best friend of 30+ years, Bevin. We have since opened the circle, inviting our men, our hairdresser and other friends to join us. We have scoped out a facility—we haven’t gone so far as a tour, which I assume would raise some eyebrows—it’s close to the lake, a movie theater, Walgreens and a grocery store. These are the things we assume will be important.

Bevin and I took ballet together. We learned to swim together. We take yoga together. We were married in a Jewish ceremony at a square dance—and while I stepped on a PBR tallboy at the end, the state of Illinois doesn’t recognize our union. The idea that if our spouses die before us—or better yet, they don’t—I may be lucky enough to spend my old lady years with her and members of my circle of people is comforting.

The stats on women outliving men support the idea that when the shit comes down, many of us might be relying on female friends as we age. It’s not pleasant to think about, but if you consider the popularity of The Golden Girls and articles like Jezebel’s recent “Are Friends the New Husbands?” it’s clear that women out there are thinking about aging differently than earlier generations, which, I think, means it’s a great time to talk about assisted suicide as a real, legal option.

More than just the specifics of the Old People Dorm Plan, the idea that I will have a say in my own fate is, at the core, what is appealing.

Suicide, assisted or otherwise, is a hard sell. I’m in no way saying it should be mandatory, based on one’s ability to afford care or based on anything other than personal choice. It’s about asking the big questions: How much pain can I endure? How much of myself, or my freedom, can I stand to lose? Has my life been fulfilling? Does the good outweigh the bad? What does my God say about suicide?

For many people, religion might be the deciding factor. And that’s fine. I’m not saying that anyone should break from a religion that has filled their lives with tradition, comfort and joy.

End of life decision-making should be intense and it should be personal. But it should be a decision.

Author Libby Lowe’s grandmother in the prime of youth

In the U.S., Oregon is the only state where assisted suicide is not a crime. The Death With Dignity Act, passed in 1997, allows terminally-ill adult Oregonians to obtain and use prescriptions from their physicians for self-administered, lethal doses of medications. Meaning, the assistance is defined as the ability to write a prescription. How and when to use the medication is up to the individual. In 2010, 65 people—of the nearly four million residents in the state—chose to end their lives.

In the rest of this country we have DNR orders (do not resuscitate) and hospice care for those deemed terminally ill, but we have no legal, dignified way to choose to die. Well ahead of his time, Jack Kevorkian fought to change that. His work on death and dying started back in the 1950s when he presented a paper suggesting that death row prisoners have the right to choose to die by anesthesia so that their organs could be harvested to save lives. It didn’t go anywhere in the 50s, or in the late 80s when he revisited the idea. I still don’t get why.

In 1987 Kevorkian studied in Netherlands, focusing on how Dutch physicians assisted in the suicides of terminally ill patients without interference from the legal authorities. During the 1990s, he assisted in about 130 suicides, ultimately spending eight years in jail. He was released in 2007 and died earlier this month in a hospital.

The progress he made is, in tangible terms, small. But the conversations he started are essential to our country becoming a place where conscious living extends to become conscious dying.

My end of life plan is, in theory, fairly sunny: Me and Bevin and our husbands walking to Walgreens and taking in a movie before going back to the home for 4pm dinner. I realize I may not be that lucky, or that even if I am, I may end up very sick and alone at the end. I can’t say for sure that I would choose assisted suicide if I had the option, but I know I would want the choice to talk honestly with my doctor and my loved ones and then make an informed decision.

The choice to end her own life with dignity is a luxury my own grandmother didn’t have, but it’s one I feel is fundamental to creating a conscious, kind society.

Top image of author Libby Lowe with her grandmother

Recently, the New York Times examined one of the most pressing issues of the 21st century – climate change. And then – wait for it – they looked at long hair on middle aged women. Writer Dominique Browning, aged 55, possesses a long, graying veil of hair that she likes to wear loose around her shoulders. She defends her choice of hairstyle to a world of cynics who claim she’s “acting out” and “stuck in the 1970s.” Her response? She’s letting all her gray hair hang out and screw the naysayers.

To which we say to Ms. Browning: you go ahead and rock your bad long-haired self. To each her own – you want long, gray hair, you flaunt it. But society seems to dictate that women chop off their long locks at the first sight of crow’s feet. Long hair is relegated to glossy youths who shake their locks with abandon and turn their dewy faces to the sun without concern. And why is this?

(And sure, many might sigh “Who cares?” We support you. For the rest who want jump through this veil of controversy, gather around. Because veils are like hair? Right? Sorta?)

We get the appeal of long hair. I chopped my hair in the 1990s in an attempt to mimic Winona Ryder’s “Reality Bites” hairstyle. A few years later I was caught up in Tolkien frenzy (long live Eowyn!) and decided to grow my hair as long as possible. It traveled to my elbows. I was able to play with as many Middle Earth hairstyles as I wanted, as I am a nerd. I had braids, bangs, and bangs with braids. Now, as I’m staring down 40, it resides somewhere in between. Am I supposed to keep it short now?

If you look at the more synthetic representations of modern womanhood, as evidence of reality shows and troubled starlets, you don’t see a lot of pixie cuts among them. The “Real Housewives” franchise all showcase largely middle-aged women with long hair, usually wigs or extensions. A walk around Beverly Hills confirms that women of all ages are sporting long hair – along with Botox and enough lip filler that could raise the Titanic from the ocean floor. Long hair is a societal marker of youth, and many women want it.

And yet, we cut it as we get older. Some women cut their hair when they have kids. I have more than one friend, (well, almost all of my friends) who chopped their hair after giving birth because they couldn’t be bothered with it. But others seem to cut it from societal pressure that they are “too old” for long hair. And while it might be unfair and wrong to think so, would anyone expect Hillary Clinton to carry curls past her shoulders while engaged in diplomacy? Someone besides Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi.

And by judging from the comments on Ms. Browning’s New York Times piece, there’s a lot of emotion on the matter. Some pointed out that your hair loses thickness as you age, and that long hair simply isn’t an option for some women afflicted with patterned baldness.

Others worried over the stagnant state of femininity in the world. Kellie from Shanghai wrote: “Reading this article and the comments, all I am left with is the saddening realization that no matter how old or ‘mature’ we get, we women seemingly will never be able to get over judging each other for how we look. I can’t believe that anyone feels the need to justify the length of their hair to anyone else, and worse, to insult (be it blatantly or covertly) those who would make a different choice.”

Suzanne from Denver took a different approach. As she commented, “Good for you if you can pull it off (no pun intended), but many older women who wear gray hair long look a bit witchy or worse, a bit pathetic, as if they’re trying to regain their lost youth. There’s a great expression for this: mutton in lamb’s clothing”.

But Blondtitude, 58, from San Francisco, perhaps summed it up the best. As she wrote in response to Ms. Browning’s article, “Oh yes, middle-aged should wear their hair short, bobbed and tamed? Dear God, you may as well put us into Eileen Fisher outfits where all the pieces were created to be worn together, homogenized like milk.” We raise a fist of support to you, Blonditude!

Tell us, do you think middle-aged women should forgo long locks? (And if you have a decent exit strategy for Afghanistan, we’re all ears on that too.)

Images: evil erin, nrbelex

Age is relative, and you’re only as old as you feel. Right? Certainly, but society sure has a way of making you question it all. Yes, we’re not supposed to worry so much about aging. But there comes a time – usually at the exact same moment you see a teenager ironically wearing something you wore in high school – you realize that the years have ticked on and you are staring at your 40th birthday.

The good news is that the view from the fifth decade is looking pretty good. We’ve already brought you 10 Best Reasons to Turn 30. Now, we invite you to throw some Nirvana onto the CD player, sit back, and check out why it is great to be 40.

You’re more likely to be flush with cash.
You might even have flush retirement funds. Which means, of course, you’re that much closer to retirement and play time.

You already know your body is beautiful.
Maybe you’ve had kids. Maybe you’re a triathlete. Maybe you’re Martina Navratilova who won tennis titles well into her 40s. Many report that 40 was the first time they shed their smaller body insecurities and embraced the whole package, stretch marks and all.

Sex is better than ever.
Know what you’re not going to put up with in your 40s? Bad sex. You have the confidence, wisdom, and experience to shed subpar sex. Some people might try to call this being a cougar – to which we say, bring on the cat nip.

Hair color gets kick ass.
Going a little gray? You can start to tell people that covering your gray hair is just a way to look more striking. Or you can ditch the dye altogether and embrace the new with the old. Anne Hilton is a 46-year-old attorney in Arizona who recently put pink streaks in her hair and rocks the look from her minivan.

Motherhood is in motion.
Some of us might be first-time mothers while others might be first-time grandmothers. But even if you’re in the middle of your motherhood marathon or just starting the race, experience makes you most likely one of the most competent mother on the block.

You know how to get things done.
Susan Katz is a 44-year old stay-at-home mom in North Carolina. She can wrangle three kids, maintain a household, work a part-time job, and get organic meals on the dinner table – all in one day. “I’m more organized and efficient than I ever was in my 20s or 30s,” she told me before hanging up the phone to shuttle someone off to ballet.

Michelle Obama, and Tina Fey, and Halle Berry, oh my!
Behold, the three sisters of inspiration for turning 40. Obama’s intelligence, Fey’s wit, and Berry’s body are three pinnacles of impressiveness. Sure, you can argue that these are all characteristics attainable at any age, but a woman in her 40s has experience and self-assuredness to enhance all inner and outer beauty.

You know what you want to be when you grow up.
Some share that the 40s are the first time you take the time to really think about what you want from your career, not what your career wants from you. Sprinkles Cupcakes founder Candace Nelson was an investment banker who decided to try her hand in the cupcake business. Today this forty-something has a nationwide business on her hands and the best cupcakes this side of the Mississippi.

You know how to take care of your body.
If you take an interest in healthy eating, you have your menus down by your forties. You know what exercises you can handle, how hard to push yourself, and that push-ups will never become your idea of “fun.” And this can mean health and heartiness in our 40s we never thought possible in our 20s.

40 is inspiring.
Amy DuFault is a recently turned 40-year-old Ecosalonista who lives in Massachusetts. As she told me, “I just am and I say bring on the next decade. I’m ready to kick some ass!”

Images: Egan Snow, amagill, blmurch , davidberkowitz

In 2009 alone, 4.2 million Americans turned 30. And while some of the latest additions to the fourth decade of living may not be happy to be there, others are diving into their 30s with optimism. When I turned 30, I threw a party at a bar that no longer exists on Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood. Was I any wiser the next morning? No, but almost a decade later I can look back as a serene auntie. Okay, not really, but check out what some of our comrades had to say about why it’s great to turn 30.

“Everyone wants to be 30.” Journalist Gail Sheehy calls 30 “The Golden Age.” As CBS reports, Sheehy asserts “Everybody wants to be 30. 50-year-olds say 50 is the new 30. 40-year-olds are saying 40 is the new 30. And interestingly when I interview people in the mid-40s, in their 50s and ask, how do you feel inside? They almost always say 30.”

Your 20s are over. In your 20s, you’re young, you’re healthy, and you’ve got a skin tone that can’t be beat. But it’s also a time for actions that may have you smacking your forehead with a “what was I thinking?” for years. Which is why turning 30 can be a great time to put that all behind you (under lock and key, buried under a moonless night) and look forward to a decade of smarter choices.

I asked Marshall Herskovitz, cultural god of the thirtysomething decade, his opinion on turning 30. Marshall is co-creator and executive producer of the iconic TV series Thirtysomething. As Marshall told me, “Turning 30 serves one good function only, and that’s getting you out of your crappy twenties, a decade in which you didn’t get nearly the respect, success, sex, or money you thought you were supposed to…”

Been there, done that. Fashion changes for some in their 30s. No, we’re not saying skip the latest looks because you’re too aged to pull off jeggings. But some feel that fashion in your 30s is more about knowing who you are and what you want. As 39-year-old Chicago banker Amy Hoffman told me, “I thought one of the liberating things about turning 30 was you no longer felt the need to follow every fashion trend. There’s more I think I’ll sit this one out or better yet, I already did that in the 80s.”

It’s a reality check. Aysia Wright, co-founder Project Green Search and aged 36, found herself asking at 30: “What am I doing with my life? Am I being true to myself?” Because so many people hold up the age as a marker, it’s a positive time when people can take a moment to check in and get oriented in the right direction.

It’s a good time for mommies. Andrea Schmieg is 38-year-old physician in Virginia and a mother of three. When I asked her the best reason to turn 30, she shared simply: “kids.” We sure don’t advocate panicking over a biological clock because you’re three decades in. But it is nice to note that since you’re often self-assured in your 30s, it makes parenthood all the more powerful.

Milestones, schmilestones. By the age of 30, you see for the first time how hard life can be for people who feel they aren’t hitting their milestones. It doesn’t matter if you’re settling down or not, having babies or not, or hitting your career goals or not. It just matters that you are on the right path. The right destination really is all about how you get there. I know I sound like I’m in a serene, meditation pose while writing this, but it is true. (I wish I could be that limber.)

Your most common way to die is by accident. You’re as healthy as you’re ever going to be at age 30. So drink (moderately) to good health!

Your career goals may be firmly set. Via 11points.com, “the average person has had 7.5 jobs by 30, and you’ll have 2.4 more by age 35.” Okay, so that’s a lot of jobs. I had two jobs by the time I was 30. Both of them involved a variation of what I am now — a full-time writer. By the age of 30, you are most likely going to have a good idea of what you want in terms of a career. And odds are that you are heading in the right direction.

Getting carded becomes fun. Age isn’t supposed to matter, right? And we’re not supposed to care about fine lines, wrinkles, and the odd ache and pain creeping up, right? Well, some of us do. So if our day is just a little brighter because someone refused to sell us a bottle of supermarket red wine, then so be it. Let the cardings continue!

It really does keep getting better. Sometimes, it seems that we can get hit with one huge emotional life event after another. And for many, this can happen right around 30. Grandparents pass away, childhood homes are sold, and relationships can end in spectacularly bad ways. (As may be the problems when you are healthy and operate of your own free will.) But then you settle into life with a little more experience under your belt and a boatload of perspective. And what does that mean? A smoother road into your 40s and beyond.

Photos: Sleepishly, titlap, a4gpa

Last year, I turned 40.

Impossibly surreal. Mystically bizarre. Just yesterday I was fleeing high school, with shoulder pads and stilettos underneath my graduation gown; absolutely certain that the world was my oyster and that extra-strength hair mousse could carry me through any encounter. I can hardly believe that I can say, “twenty years ago…” in reference to anything I was alive to witness.

Dear Danielle at 20:

• Credit cards are (mostly) evil.
• Algebra is (really) useless.
• If he doesn’t stay until morning, he’s probably married, deeply insecure (or both).
• Talk is cheap. And action is priceless.
• Tragedy happens. Yes, everything happens for a reason, but life can be cruel and wrenching and while it all comes out in the cosmic wash, some souls collide.
• There is no soul mate. This won’t be easy to hear, because you are longing for The One 24/7. But, guess what? The One is The One because you say he (or she) is. And that’s way more liberating and empowering than anything preordained or supposedly destined. And while we’re dissing cosmic romanticism..
• There’s no such thing as destiny. Sorry. Life really is what you make it. Oh, and another thing…
• If you don’t kiss girls in your twenties, you’ll probably never get around to trying it out. You should try it out.
• Diplomacy is overrated.
• Mistakes do happen.
• Go to more concerts.
• Those books you lent out? You’re not getting them back.
• If your boss tries to French kiss you, that’s…uncool.
• Kindness is one of the most powerful natural resources there is…infinitely renewable.
• Your heart, your heart, your heart is where it’s at.
• When you turn 40, you shall be rocking like never before, grateful for absolutely everything, and you will finally, finally feel like you interlock with the planet – minus the shoulder pads.

Editor’s Note: Danielle LaPorte is the creator of WhiteHotTruth.com, which has been called “the best place on-line for kick-ass spirituality.” She is the author of The Fire Starter Sessions: A Digital Experience for Entrepreneurs, an inspirational speaker, former think tank exec, and news show commentator. You can find her on Twitter @daniellelaporte.

Image: zigwamp

You call it a crisis. He calls it a quest. As euphemisms go, his term is a far more romantic description of the turmoil surrounding the transitional phase. Don’t be fooled. When you are in the thick of it, the only tangible aspect of his so-called quest is the one for money to pay the mortgage once he decides life is too short to earn it the hard way.

It happens to most male adults from ages 40 to 45 but can be experienced even at 60, and was described by Carl Jung as a normal part of the maturing process. How do you spot the signs?

First, know that the crisis du jour looks different than the crisis of yore, when madman hubby started feeling his mortality, dumped his wife for the young blond secretary and stole from the cookie jar to buy a red Corvette. In the era of strapped funds and males earning status from owning a hybrid or composting system, the 2011 crisis manifests more subtly before your innocent eyes until the picture comes clearly into focus and you get it. He is no longer the man you married. He has morphed into a balding college kid with bad taste in music.

Here are some of the changes you are likely to see:

1. Refusal to plan for the future

He balks about discussing that European cruise you have scheduled for 2012, arguing he wants to start staying in the present, ignoring that voice that tells him to get up, get out of bed, earn a good living and buy you jewelry. Not looking forward is part of the crisis. It often involves depression which can trigger the crisis in the first place.

2. Actions to recapture his youth

He is riding a bike full time, not to spare the planet, but to conjure those boyish college days on the bike path, backpack strapped on, balancing without gripping the handlebars, wind blowing his recently replaced hair. He is showering less often, not just to conserve resources but because dudes are sometimes too busy riding their fierce bikes and doing junk and can’t be bothered. It annoys you, but the baristas he has befriended don’t seem to mind.

3. Drastic wardrobe redux

Part of his midlife chuck-it list includes ridding his closet of cumbersome ties and embracing a more casual, sporty look, which may or may not include hooded sweatshirts, more fitted jeans and – if the crisis is one capable of spinning out of control – flip flops (sans the pedicure!). Backward baseball caps, once a red flag of the syndrome, have been outsourced by the ubiquitous beanie. If he begins wearing a beanie, begin emailing single ex boyfriends you let get away as a backup plan.

4. Seeks enrichment

He signs up for a seminar on killing chickens humanely and thinks it’s pretty sexy recounting it for you, how he held the bird in a way to work it into a trance before plucking the feathers and ripping off its head. He learns Mandarin, skydiving, how to cobble shoes or master wholesome Basque cooking. You are not invited to join him at the various classes because he needs to find himself and not be bogged down by the story the two of you have created.

5. He talks about quitting his job

You spot the course curriculum for city college where he says he will get a teaching degree and quit being a wage slave. You sweat bullets worrying he will quit his job before formulating a real plan. You should worry. We all hate work from time to time – especially if it is complicated by having to interact with other humans – but a crisis takes it to the next level. He won’t be on the planet forever (revisit Lester Burnham’s American Beauty saga), so imparting knowledge as a teacher or working at a vegan bakery seems just the thing.

6. Dabbles in ill considered romances

Finding lipstick marks on his neon yellow polyurethane-laminated nylon bike jacket. Who’s the ho he’s biking with, you want to know! Is it one of the baristas he met while setting up shop on his laptop in the free wiki shop? Is it his new yoga teacher or his colonic hydro therapist? Part of the crisis is not being young anymore and to prove he can still get action. It’s getting hot in here, but it is just your steam shower.

7. Changes music taste

Out with Norah Jones and Bad Company and in with Kimya Dawson, Kanye West and Jay-Z. He never goes anywhere without his iPod and when you have date nights, he plugs it into its iHome in his new VW Rabbit. He downloads tunes for you, as well, saying you should convert your listening to get more current. What ever happened to Rod Stewart?

8. Cries during movies or when watching Glee

A crisis not only involves symptoms of depression but hormonal swings that are also witnessed after open heart surgery when a man feels his mortality and has the scars to prove it. So, crying during grief-stricken Rabbit Hole might make sense but for God’s sake, while watching Yogi Bear steal picnic baskets? Get a grip, fella!

9. Starts keeping a journal

Sure, journal writing is highly recommended as a method for young, budding writers to loosen up and get thoughts onto paper, but the midlife crisis journaling is a different animal. If you saw A Beautiful Mind, you know what I mean. The crisis journal spells out theories for what happened before and after the Big Bang and how to solve all the mysteries of the universe, plus cursory ideas scribbled down for screenplays, cursory ideas scribbled down for novels and Broadway musicals. Sometimes, they contain notes on how to kill a chicken.

10. Infomercial purchases

He has become a sucker for products being peddled at 4 a.m. when he is most vulnerable. Infomercials didn’t become a $256 billion industry by accident. It’s all the middle age men on quests! He is up and can’t get back to sleep due to changing sleep patterns that exhaust him and add to the depression and hormone swings. Among his favorites: Snuggies for men (sometimes he cries during the ads); the Total Gym cause Christie Brinkley and Chuck Norris to look so damn fit for their age; and of course, anything peddled by Kevin Trudeau.

You awake one day and witness the encroachment. It’s not as invasive as bed bugs or a foreclosure, but not as pleasant as eating pumpkin pie or selling a novel. And you are left to ponder your roots and ask the tough questions: Do I head the gray way of George Clooney and Jamie Lee Curtis?

Should I stay perpetually in the black like Cher and Dick Clark?

Since I’m only 30, can I rock the gray like Lady Gaga or will commuters my age give up their seats for me on the bus, believing I’m Grandmama Addams? It’s crazy and it’s kooky! The signs of age usually are.

It happens much sooner for those in families where premature gray is mapped in the DNA, and you either embrace your destiny (no chemicals or costly and bothersome salon appointments) or reverse it with highlights, dyes and tints.

Experts argue going gray ages you 5-10 years no matter what. Still, women who get off the bottle and let the salt and pepper season their style can appear chic gray goddesses at any age; and fellas can emerge distinguished silver foxes depending on how they sport the silver.

“A good haircut and keeping healthy makes the difference in the gray looking like you’re letting it go versus showcasing it,” observes Michelle Sandoval, educator and colorist at Di Pietro Todd Salon in San Francisco. “It also needs to be a pristine tone (no yellowing) and you should change make up and clothes from earth tones to cooler tones to make the gray work.”

Sandoval, who says women comprise 95 percent of her sizable clientele, believes gray should go with the anatomy, including skin tone. She finds that the color looks best on olive skinned people.

“I don’t think it looks the greatest on warm skinned people, peachy skinned, red heads, or people who have really warm brown hair, because the warmth in their skin and hair tends to make the gray look yellow and the gray makes their skin looked washed out.”

For those who decide to succumb, Sandoval offers a few tips to tress for success:

• Big swatches of gray or white work better than just a sprinkle
• To brighten dingy strands, use a violet-based shampoo about every third washing (i.e. Okara by Renee Furterer)
• Add lowlights to brighten the gray that is left and to create a bolder, more playful look

“Jay Leno is a good example of someone who went gray but maintained a bold look,” suggests Sandoval. “He used to be dark with a white stream and now he’s white with a dark streak. And it works. He looks good and his hair makes the same statement. He almost looks like a photo negative.”

Images: BLMurch; Vanity Fair; Addams Family; Jay Leno;

How many of you moisturize and exfoliate your neck? I don’t, and apparently I am as foolish as this surfer who recently decided to stalk two great white sharks. (Yes, the neck is this dramatic.) The neck never lies. Because in this day of injecting ourselves with Botox and fillers and probably strawberry jam if it worked, the only sure-fire way to tell a person’s age is by his or her neck.

Think about it – how many times have you looked at the baby-smooth cheeks of a society Grande Dame, just to notice her neck matches her Hermes alligator bag? And I know that many of you would as soon as inject your eyeballs with glue than put Botox in your face. But that doesn’t mean we should continue to neglect our sassy necks or sexy upper bosoms.

Here’s why. As we age, our skin gets loser and fine lines make their appearance. The skin on the neck is thin and blood isn’t circulating around it as well as other places. The neck doesn’t have any fat to plump it up. It is often as exposed to the elements as much as your face – as can be your upper bosoms. You’ve invested in that Nixxi Fringe Collar Wrap Dress, so you’re going to want to bring on the sass with your cleavage.

Here’s how. First, it is important to keep our necks and chests moisturized and toned. Strawberry Hedgehog has a fantastic moisturizer. They also offer a detoxifying facial mask that is great for the neck and upper chest area as well. Want to tone? Here’s a list of some toners on the organic and natural market. (Though be sure to still read the labels, as some still contain chemical ingredients as well as organic ones.)

You can also eat your way to a healthy neck. Consider consuming foods high in omega-3s like flax seed and salmon. Spinach contains skin-strengthening vitamin A. Berries are high in antioxidants and vitamin C, which are both fantastic for your epidermis. Also think about giving your neck a massage with organic sunflower oils, which are high in nourishing vitamin F.

Next, think about your posture. Walk around with a book on your head. This will train your neck muscles to lift and elongate. (Suggests the person who spends most of her time hunched over a laptop looking like a turtle.)

You can also consider hot and cool compresses. Sitting in an armchair, wrap a warm, wet towel around your neck and clavicle for fifteen minutes. Then follow with a cool towel for the same amount of time. This will moisturize your skin and help you relax.

And finally, want a really great recipe for a homemade neck and décolletage wash? Try a Creamy Yolk Wash from Narine Nikogosian’s Return to Beauty.

Take one teaspoon of sour cream, one egg yolk, and one teaspoon of lemon juice. In a small bowl, mix the sour cream, and egg yolk together, then add lemon juice. Wash your neck and then rinse with cold water.

Image: teresawer

A view from sailing into Port At Fael, the Azores.

As I meet my middle thirties, I’m finding the lifelong, insatiable urge to see this world and be witness to new experience isn’t going away. When I’m home and the grass is long and the bathroom faucet is dripping, I start to feel as though the walls are closing in on me. I look at the objects around me, the possessions I’ve collected on the theme of “me” and I ponder how I got here.

If it’s been too long since I’ve traveled, I feel out of context even in the construct of my own design: this is not my house, this is not my beautiful wife. It’s not the old cliche about feeling imprisoned, but it is a bit like being fixed in a diorama I’ve built to suit my needs, my wishes and some of my desires. That’s the problem: it’s all me, me marinating in the thought of me.

We see these static dioramas in our lives every day. Like at cocktail parties. Conversations center around the health care debate, the relative greenness of bamboo flooring and what kind of Ikea furniture doesn’t look too Ikea.

And there’s always that one person at the party who just got back from backpacking in Bhutan or trekking in India. They are sharing a story of life off the beaten path and there is something about the passion of the story that makes us, just for a moment, deify that person because he or she “just did it.” For a moment, you fall out of yourself and let your imagination go wild as the yarn spins to the room. You experience life as an expression of navigation and let yourself become a character in the story being told. You dream of being wherever there is.  You imagine how resourceful (or not) you’d be. You taste the chimichurri, you bathe your bottom in the bidet.

But when the story ends, you find yourself back in your diorama, happy wine buzz fading away with it. Yes, it’s hard to get away. It’s hard to button up the house, forget the hedge trimming and jump into an ecstatic mode of being in some foreign place. But don’t you want it?

Trust me, you do. Make a plan, set a date. Read Travels with Charley. Even the planning phase will begin to disentangle you from you. You’ll start thinking of different ways of thinking and how different people live different lives. And once you go, you’ll come back to your diorama and it won’t look the same.  You’ll notice objects in your life that have been there for ages, but you never noticed them quite in the way you do now, with fresh eyes. Maybe they’ll even take on new meaning. You’ll think about the flavor of your tap water compared to where you were. You’ll think about the shape of your toilet, you’ll think about someone else’s health care debate and all of the sudden you’ll feel what all people who travel know: traveling makes you a better person in your home world.

No one growing up during the upbeat, Mattel-directed Sixties figures they’ll be worse off in middle age, forced to scrounge harder for work, buy less, live smaller.

Those Barbie songs my sister and I sang along to in our pink and green room constituted teenage visions of a supercalifragelistic future that we owned, co-starring Dick Van Dyke, four kids, a shiny Lincoln and full-service yacht.

“Here’s a cake, that you and I can make, I’ll share the recipe, if you say yes to me.”

But due to the recession and soaring costs of raising two girls in the city, I’m singing a different tune today on my birthday. Sure, I married Ken, but where are the other Camelot conquests I was guaranteed?

Gone is the wine country home, jaunts to spas on a whim, the black velvet boxes concealing gems he bought for me with cash from cases he settled.

Despite the unexpected Barbie plot twist, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude as I take inventory of what I do have.

For instance, I spotted a gold necklace on Fillmore Street with a round charm that that bore the words I am completely blessed. I didn’t dare buy the $600 trinket but I have kept the affirmation close to my heart.

So, I’ve decided to count my blessings today (my colleague Sarah Irani should know that quite a few of them came free!). Here are a whopping 50, plus one for good luck.

I am completely blessed because…

1. I birthed two healthy, spectacular daughters who teach me something new each day.

2. I married a great father.

3.  I follow my bliss every day that I write.

4. My girls are strapping amazons because God gave me super human breast milk.

5. I’m surrounded by friends who are like family.

6.   My mother is still around and down to just one biting criticism of me a day.

7. I am never hungry when I don’t want to be.

8. We live without war in the  streets of San Francisco.

9. I have not been killed by a truck like my brother.

10. My religious faith has connected me to a community of fellow yentas to grow old with.

11. My older sister is an exceptional auntie.

12. My older brother is keeping the family business afloat during rocky times.

13. My pug and cat think I’m their mommy and I am.

14. I married father nature.

15. I’m healthy and strong from exercise and can climb the fence when I get locked out.

16. The builder’s daughter has always had a roof over her head.

17. I have commercial-free TV.

18. I have art on my walls from friends who made it.

19. I have memorized dozens of bedtime songs.

20. My daughters sing the songs I have sung to them.

21. My children are known for being creative and kind.

22. My beloved camera almost always works.

23. My children can read and write and like to do both.

24. My children make me exquisite birthday presents and set a regal table with a tiara at my place.

25. I can walk to the movie theater on Saturday nights.

26. No one at the theater asks me if I want the senior discount.

27. My city has excellent public transportation.

28. I can still see very well when I wear magnified lenses.

29. My mom, who unloads much, has kept her box at the iconic Hollywood Bowl.

30. My children get to use the box at the Hollywood Bowl and hear live music.

31. No menopause yet.

32. Menopause will come sooner or later.

33. I think I’ve seen god.

34. I think god is the miracle of birth.

35. I have learned how to kayak.

36. I have learned Italian.

37. Henna makes me higher than jewelry.

38. I married a great teacher.

39. My husband rarely spends money. When he does, it is on books and candy.

40. I have kept my commitments.

41. I’m in a bad girls book club.

42. My book club is all about the food.

43. Decent chick flicks are still being made, i.e. Julie and Julia.

44. I can grow vegetables in my yard to make soup.

45. I can pick flowers in my yard for table bouquets.

46. I can find stylish Sixties-inspired fashion on sale.

47. My Weight Watchers Guru is a Stanford Nutritionist.

48. I have gained the wisdom to see my own culpability.

49. I was born a healthy female in a rich land.

50. I’m a survivor because my Polish grandparents were survivors.

51. Today is my 51st birthday.

Main image: Sparkleneeley

Second image: Luanne Bradley

This is the fourth in Luanne’s new lifestyle column, Life in the Green Lane.