Husband is now officially 40. He has slept his first night as a 40 year old, and the news is as old and stale as a three day old baguette. I avoided blogging about his birthday over the weekend, since we were actually having his birthday, for real, and I preferred to participate in it. Even writing as little and as poorly as I do, there's something about writing about an event (especially as it happens) that turns you into a total spectator and not a participant. It's like being the one with the video camera at the birthday party: you can't help your child blow out his candles with that thing pasted to your face.
So the day was filled with peace and harmony, presents and food. The most amazing man I've ever met is officially a year older, and I love him 20 times more than I did when I met him 20 years ago. Life is good.
May God grant you many years, my dear one. I love you.
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