42

Sigh. Yes. I'm officially 42. And about 24 hours. But who's counting?

So for my 42nd birthday (43rd if you count the actual day of my birth, but I need that number to be bigger like I need a hole in the head) I got Superman DVDs -- I & II. Chas told me shortly before I got them. Not so good with secrets, that boys.

That was from the booys onn the day befoe my actual birthday. For my birthday proper I got, among other things, a Canon Rebel 35 mm digital camera. These photos were taken with it. I find it, in a word, bitchin'. But then I'm a geek. It has a way cool (to me anyway) 3 fps burst mode. This is the sort of feature that would have made the adolescent and teen me positively orgasmic. It's the modern equivilant of the holy grail of my young photo fantasies: a motor drive. Best of all, with digital, I can goof around and take 300 or so pictures with it, fooling around with settings etc. and not have to go into bankruptcy or prostitution just to get them processed. Oh, the young geek in me rejoices at this new toy. Her heart sings. Hell, the 42-year-old me is still pretty damned happy about it.

The other big news of late is that Chas is no longer afraid of the battery-operated ride-on car that we gave them for their birthday. In March. This was heralded by screams of joy from Eddie as he drove his brother around the cul-de-sac: "Mommy! Look, Chas isn't scared anymore."