FORTY

The following post was written by a blogjacker and is not necessarily the views, wordings or picture selections of your regularly scheduled blogger.

First off, why isn't it fourty? I mean seriously. It's like eleven. What is that? Why not tenty one, tenty two, tenty three, etc?

So it was my birthday. Yep. That person right there is forty.

And this person right here was there.

And we were here.

I was kidnapped and taken to a place for which my eldest daughter would only give me the smallest hint. "It isn't real," she said. (I guessed it -- only because it's kind of a trademark of our family to look weirdly at things so as to make jokes out of them -- and because I trained her) 

The Natural Bridge in Westernish Virginia of course isn't a real bridge because it wasn't man made. But it is very much a bridge. Spoiler alert: It really is a bridge.

It rained the whole time we were out.

And the hotel room was tiny.

And Poppy was fussy for lots of the night.

And we had the best time ever.

Lyd even let me make a video of her playing the uke.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bjShpT8zGY

And here's a picture of Magz sniffing milk.

And now back to your regularly scheduled blogger. (Who is awesome at birthdays)