A Birthday Poem

Today my wonderful hubby turned 42. I think he looks great for his age, if I do say so myself. We celebrated by having a mid-west favorite, Tator Tot hot dish (they don't say "casserole" back there, but use "hot dish" instead. Also his wonderful "hot dish" is 20 WW points per 1 cup serving (and you cannot eat just one cup!!!), so needless to say I make it only once a year! I have not stopped chugging the water since dinner, and I still feel parched!), and Apple Upside Down Cake. He recieved a great Packers golf shirt from his Dad and his wife, and I got him a bird book he has been wanting for months (we get quite a large variety of birds here, so it should be fun to have around). He also received this fabulous poem from his brother Kris. I had no idea you were so poetic Kris!!!

Happy Birthday Honey! And thanks for doing the dishes on your birthday so I could post on the blog and check my email!

Forty two. Whooo!
By Kris Bjorlin

What do you do at forty two?
Logistics/Sales at a berry farm that's what you do.
Shovel snow until your face turns blue.
No more bike rides like when you were thirty two.

Forty two will make you a father for two.
More diapers with poo.
Disposable income goes kaploo.
Muscle definition in your body is few.

What you will miss later on looking back at forty two.
Your kids laughed at a sound ending in moo.
The economy blew.
Your town should own a snow plow or two.

Advice for forty three.
Be careful of increased frequency to pee.
Watch out for soccer leagues who increase their fee.
Your wife will most likely be expecting number three.

Happy Birthday!
Your much younger brother