Thirty-Niner

Jeff turned 39 yesterday. He wanted a "hundred layer cake"--you'll notice that there aren't any pictures of it. It involves cooking crepes. I made the batter and the vanilla pastry cream, but that was as far as I could go with that recipe. When Jeff came home from work I was standing over two of the sickest looking blobs of egg batter you ever saw badly cooked in your life.

He took one look at them and said that "he wanted to make the crepes and finish the cake tomorrow." "That he always wanted to make this kind of cake anyway and won't it be so fun to do with the kids...."

I think that it was a lie...and THAT is exactly why I love that man.

Fortunately, Jeff's mom either gives you a rotisserie chicken or a pie for your birthday--and we lucked out with a pie. The kids would have had a stroke if I told them that there wasn't any dessert for the party.

Jeff finally realized that true happiness is purchasing your own gifts. You can see the contentment with his new tennis racket. I also got him a backpack that doubles as a dry bag--and I'm praying to "you know who" that I will never be present on any hike that involves needing a backpack that also doubles as a dry bag. I've been looking for a backpack that folds out into a twin-sized pillow-top mattress, but I don't think that you can get them in the U.S.

Nevertheless, Happy Birthday, Jeff! We love you.