I've survived a disastrous divorce (and some equally disastrous first dates). I've survived my friends' menopause madness and my daughter's nerve-racking nuptials. I'm dating Tim (a Truly Extraordinary Kisser), my career is steady and fulfilling, the kids are launched, my ex has exited, and my best friends are as close to normal as they've ever been (which, honestly, is not very close at all). Yep, as I approach the day I turn the Big Five-O, my life is really humming along—but is it humming along to "Happy Birthday" or the theme song from Jaws?

Da dum da dum: I get a new boss who subscribes to the Idi Amin School of Micromanagement. Da dum da dum: Tim's amorous intentions might be turning honorable—or turning in another woman's direction. Da dum da dum: My ex schemes to rekindle our non-existent flame—eiouyw! Da dum da dum: My daughter tells me that I—sexy, youthful, Fabulous Fifty me—will soon be a grandmother!

(Really, all I wanted for my fiftieth birthday was some chocolate cake and a few Botox treatments.)

Not to worry. My best friends have a strategy to pull my life back together again: a rigorous regimen of bikini waxing and belly dancing, martial arts and Myers-Briggs—good grief!

I wonder if I'll survive to fifty-one. . . ?