Daydreaming of my 40th Birthday

I’m trying to decide what to do for my upcoming 40th birthday next year. 40!! Wow! I never thought I’d see the day. How glamorous and beautiful and terrifying… George wants to throw me a party, and I can’t decide exactly what I want–shocking, I know, with my Piscean nature.
On the one hand, I can see myself dancing in the middle of an 18th century Moulin Rouge nightclub with cancan dancers and scarlet and fuschia ruffles and glitter falling from the ceiling, preceding me coming down from the ceiling on a swing, bubbles floating through the air…But on the other hand, I can see me sitting quietly at a battered old desk, my eternal fantasy, writing with a notebook and pen, listening to Billie Holiday on a scratchy record player…And on another hand, (yes, I have more than two hands sometimes) I can see me watching fireworks on the beach with Henry, Annabelle, and George after having dinner with a princess and chanting “dreams really do come true!”…And on the other hand, I can see sitting by a huge roaring fire after a day of skiing, drinking hot cocoa with marshmallows in it and laughing with my dearest friends and family…And I’d also love to spend the evening laughing my ass off while watching the talent show that takes place at my family parties…And of course, nothing is better than coming home after dancing in a second line parade, taking a hot bath and putting on my flannel bunny pajamas and just lying around talking with all my favorite people…I’d originally wanted to rent a villa in Europe and send out invitations and just cook amazing meals and sing and eat and dance barefoot under the moonlight with starlight in my hair…