I do some of my best work in my mobile office (aka my car) … which also doubles as a mobile café and a mobile recycling bin. On my (obscenely) early morning trips to the rowing sheds (dressed in PJ’s and ugg boots) I often ponder life’s big questions … like, ‘what in gods name are all these people doing on the road so early’ or ‘why isn’t everyone else’s bins spilling over with rubbish like mine?’ It was on the way home from one such early morning outing that I had an epiphany of sorts. Dreaming of not so distant days when all my little peeps would be self sufficient and no longer requiring my chauffeuring skills, I was forced to acknowledge my impending obsolescence.

I’m approaching the life cycle equivalent of the land line …. good to have around in the event of an emergency but otherwise completely superfluous to requirements. It’s not like this should come as a surprise … I have been there for each and every one of the kids birthdays for the last 18 years, but I’ve found myself utterly caught off guard. Or maybe it’s more like downright denial … but whatever the case, I’m trying to view my impending redundancy, not as a cause for despair but a catalyst for reinvention. This notion of reinvention however must be tempered with a harsh dose of reality, because without sounding too defeatist, there’s a few childhood dreams that are no longer on the table.

At age 50, I am unlikely to become a prima ballerina and the chances of me securing a gig in the next Victoria’s Secret parade are slim at best. I resorted to brainstorming sessions (with myself) to uncover my true calling but my inner cynic (and realist) just can’t tolerate the ridiculous notion that there’s “no such thing as a bad idea” … There are plenty of bad ideas people and lets face it …the clock is ticking! My subsequent SWOT analysis and  venn diagram only served to reinforce that apparently there is absolutely no overlap between what (I think) I’m ok at and what I love to do. So, in desperation I resorted to google for some inspiration and uncovered an article “10 People Who Switched Careers After 50 (and thrived)” Apparently Colonel Sanders was 65 when he started KFC and Laura Ingliss Wilder (of Little House on the Prairie fame) didn’t publish her first book until she too was 65. So it seems as though the pressure is off … I’ve got a good 15 years up my sleeve to uncover my own combo of secret herbs and spices.