We have now entered the very short window where, on paper, my husband is TWO years older than me. So far he seems to wear 38 well. To celebrate another year of having not been selected out, we stayed in for an extravagant breakfast of omelettes and hash browns, and later went to the movies to see "No Country For Old Men," which was excellent, though a little bleak. Wrapped up the day with some leftover pizza (there's a Flying Pie Pizza here too, though I think not connected to the one in PDX) and cake. OK, we might have busted into the cake on Saturday night.
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