This year I turn Sixty. Once I said it out loud, I thought I would drop dead of a heart attack. For years, I feared that if I ever walked into my bathroom and saw a python floating around in my toilet bowl (it could happen), I would die. My heart would not be able to take it—the same thing with accepting that I will be turning 60. It’s freaking scary. But I said it, and I am still here.  I planned to sit down and write something profoundly moving about this milestone. Fat chance of that happening. I play casino slot machine games on my phone and watch all of The Real Housewives, so no one is taking life advice from me. Nevertheless, the best way to accept this is to acknowledge it.  There are still many months (a few) till I turn sixty. I like to spread out…