On June 8, 1997 I made tacos for dinner. (Don't ask me what I made yesterday. I've already forgotten.)

But 23 years ago? I remember making the tacos because I was very hungry for tacos but didn't get to eat them. We'd invited two of our single guy friends over to eat with us, I made tacos, we had just getting ready to gather around the table, and THEN:

 

My water broke. 

 

Our single guy friends were almost beside themselves. I mean, they'd just fixed their plates. But there I was. :) :) :) We all spent a few moments engaging in several varieties of nervous laughter.

 

Then Matt and I were like, well hey, you guys might as well eat the tacos. And then would you put away the leftovers since we're going to go to the hospital and have a baby right now?

 

Ahhh, good memories. Good tacos. And good grief, that baby turns 23 tomorrow. 

 

Tonight, he and his girl are coming over for Alfredo and family birthday celebration. I'm thinking that tomorrow I should make tacos. AND EAT THEM THIS TIME.