Four decades, plus four years.
Ten years, four times. Then another 10% again.
It feels... well, it definitely does not feel like 25 or maybe even 30. But it feels alright.
Especially when your family knows you so well that when you return home from work the evening before your birthday (when you will be very busy all day), you get...
Yes, it's a zombie cake.
Not to be confused with Zombie Lake,
which I believe had a smaller budget.
Oh it's in a witch's cauldron, but Zombie punch, anyone?
A savory noodle/tomato filled pastry actually called a zombie but which
I prefer calling a zomboli, along with little handmade tomato-filled... umm... zombolini.
Served with tomato soup. Brraaiiiinnsss... yummy!
Had this little guy for ages now. Feels like home.
My little undead buddy can't seem to free himself but
nods in pleasure at the festivities...
... as purrs Hallowe'en.
They even had a little fine entertainment on the tube.
Yes, as we ate zombolini, they ate Sloppy Jimbos.
All was right with the world.
I do love my family.
Anyway, 44 sure feels just like 43. Who knew?