Is what I will be turning at the end of this month.
Thanks all for the guesses. @GaryChampagne got it right when he guessed 38 on Twitter; which I still am and was in the photo.
It’s a funny number. The last of my thirties. It isn’t bothering me, but it is surprising me. How did I ever get to thirty-nine. I still feel like a kid on the inside. I don’t feel like someone who has a house, a car, a husband, two children, a job that can support a family, and just in general a whole wackload of responsibilities. I look in the mirror, and on tired days I see the hollows around my eyes, and I am surprised.
Next year Tony and I both turn 40. He loves that my birthday comes first, and 6-year-old B loves announcing that I am the oldest one in our family. I don’t mind when she adds that that makes me the boss of the family, though. Of course, Tony wants to have a giant joint birthday party in between our two birthdays. And of course I want to crawl under a rock, and not because I don’t want to turn 40, but because I like to hide away from the world a lot of the time.
Gary, where shall I deliver the Timbits?