My long-time best friend turned 40 years old yesterday. Jeff turned 40 two years ago as of this coming Friday, which was quite okay. But when your best friend, who you remember hanging out with in high school, turns 40 – well, that’s like a whole different story. Of course, not because I am horrified that she turned 40. Au contraire, she looks pretty damn good for 40 years old and a mom of two. It’s really more about the fact that it means that I’m about to turn 40! GULP. I mean, wasn’t it like just yesterday that we were cruising down Baker Road among the peach and cherry orchards in her little VW Bug? (Well, okay that was before she crashed it – which she was sooooo afraid to tell her dad about – and got her even-smaller Ford Festiva that could barely contain her awesome 80s permed hair, but I still remember that cute little car.)

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