That's me, forty. Feels weird, but what choice do I have? Lucky for me we had a three-day weekend to drag out the celebration. Here I am on Sunday night with the boys, blowing out candles on the yummy carrot cake from Grandma Bobbie and Granddad. (The cake was preceded by a face-stuffing meal at my favorite barbecue place, so if I look a little puffy you can blame the beef brisket sliders.)
Tonight I wanted to take advantage of the wonderful apples that Bill and Joan had given us from their tree - plus I had a box of phyllo dough - so Luke helped me construct the World's Most Perfect and Beautiful Apple Strudel. Good thing we invited our friends Brandi, Bruce, Eitan, and Daniel over. Otherwise who else would have believed we made such a great strudel? And how would we have eaten the whole thing ourselves? (Strike that, I think we would have managed.) So here I am, where I am probably happiest, in the kitchen with the boys. Forty is just fine.
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