I just turned 41. Two conflicting emotions always
compete for my attention every 8th of July. 
Delight in still being here, and slight discomfort
with aging.

The best medicine for such discomfort is a birthday
dinner with my mother. She is talkative to a
degree I don't usually love, but I really need
to cherish these personal relationships. They won't
be around forever.

We enjoyed some decent enough meals. I usually go
with beef chop suey, but pork in a sour and sweet
sauce was my way of continuing the pork kick from
the last Chinese restaurant. A pint of draft beer
was good for enhancing the flavour, or was it
simply to wash it down? Not sure, but I liked it.

Deep fried bananas, that great Asian dessert
classic, and a cup of coffee to go with it.
Admittedly the best part of the experience.
Anyway, on to 42 (I hear that number is special).