A subdued celebration, beginning with a nice soak at the tub, replete with fine scenery. However, SA found himself, as they say, “trunkless” and scurried home to find his. He arrived just as we were getting out. So, it was off to Hal’s by way of our first TFC portage down a flight of Alameda neighborhood stairs. Kong was waiting at Hal’s. The Farmers then proceeded to set us up and knock us down like so many bowling pins. Kong and I finally broke through with a win to end the evening, but the damage had been done. Got to stay out until the first minute of my 40th, right? To the Standard. However, no one was up for whiskeys, so it all came crashing in on me in the end, making for a concerted effort to get home. So that’s it.  I’m 40. Not to worry though, it’s all downhill from here.