This weekend I turn 39. In the fine tradition of my Grandpa Benac, I've managed to arrange for birthday festivities to last at least three days. (Who can tell me where Grandpa's birthday issues began? Something about different dates recorded on church/state/immigration documents?) The real day is Saturday, but we'll be trick-or-treating that night so we'll have cake with the kids, but Mark and I have moved our birthday date to Friday. And then Mark came home from with tickets for the Jazz home opener tonight. (Whoo!) So of course that's now part of the birthday fete.
But here's an even bigger milestone: I have now lived with Mark longer than I lived with my parents. (I went to BYU two months shy of my 18th birthday, and Mark and I are less than two months from our 18th anniversary.) We like this fact. I loved living with my parents, but it feels right that the scale has shifted and now the bulk of my life has been here, raising up this family with Mark.