Mentioning my wife’s age is verboten. Especially now that the square root of her age is more than the years our kid has lived on earth. So, even though today is her birthday, I can’t say her age. Be it here, there, in pixel or print – the surest way for me to wind up…
The countdown has begun. In 90 days, I will be 40-years-old. It’s like the last trimester before I’m reborn as “quadragenarian,” which reads more like a dietary choice than an age past 39 but before 50. In many ways, it is a dietary choice. At least according to my physician, who would prefer I answer…