It's Daniel's birthday* today, and in what has become an annual tradition, I've made him a batch of my Fabulous Fudge. Damn, it's good!
Good? Did I say good? Heck, it's fantastic! If I do say so myself, and obviously I do.
The recipe is here.
* 40. I don't know how I can possibly have a 40-year-old son. Time travel must be involved.
3 comments:
My dad said that when I turn 40 (in 5.5 years), he's going to send me a pin I gave him when he turned 40. On the pin is a picture of a pine tree and the words "40 isnt' old...if you're a tree."
That he's held onto this pin since I gave it to him more than 20 years ago makes me think I won't like turning 40 very much...
This is the advantage of being the youngest in the family. At every milestone, I get a reprieve from being hassled/asked "How does it feel to be 30/35/etc", because they learn that my counter is always "How do YOU feel that your BABY (or Baby Brother, etc.) is 30/35/etc?" And that just makes them feel a lot older than it makes me feel, and all is right again with the universe.
Says the guy who's already a friggin' GREAT UNCLE.
Anyway, if it makes you feel any better, my mother is 62 years old and is already a great-grandmother.
I don't have any kind of emotional or self-image problem with Daniel turning 40. My mental image of him is a sort of continuum from when he was a newborn up to now, and it all seems to fit together seamlessly. If we only saw him every few years, perhaps that would change.
Anyway, my own self-image got frozen around 20, and despite that old guy in the mirror, it refuses to change.
My mother, on the other hand, kept saying how very strange it was when I turned 40, because I'm the youngest of her three children, and my two sisters are seven and nine years older than me. She said my turning 40 finally made her feel old.
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