Since the day I turned 36, I dreaded turning 40. I knew it was a downhill trip from my mid-thirties, so why not give myself four whole years to stress about it. Apparently, I made the mistake of blinking because those four years disappeared in a flash. Today, a large anvil in the shape of a 40 came falling out of the sky and landed on my head. I was hoping it would knock me clear back to 30, but that didn't happen. In fact, not much happened at all. I didn't implode or lose any limbs. My arms are still just long enough to hold the dinner menu far enough for me to read it. Something did happen though that just reassured me that nothing had changed. I went down to Steamboat Landing on the lake to spend Happy Hour with my sister Ellen. We had a nice time talking and going over some of her photos from the last year. About an hour later, my wife and kids met me there for my birthday dinner. As soon as they walked in, it was like a warm fuzzy landed in my stomach. They are my life. Turning 40 hadn't changed a thing. Going home, my eight-year-old son rode in my car with me. He was in the back seat singing right along with the Black Eyed Peas as loud as he could. I couldn't help but smile. So far, I like 40.
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