Feta burgers and facelifts.

Last night we had our newest favorite meal: turkey burgers stuffed with feta cheese on whole wheat buns with cucumber sauce. Served with Greek style spinach and brown rice (with basil, onions, garlic and feta cheese). You envy us, do you not? (If you don’t, you should.)

Before that, I went running. Two things happened that are worth noting. The first was that two guys in the neighborhood were playing on their four-wheeler, and figuring out how to make it pop wheelies. This was highly entertaining to watch. The second was that I ran past a group of teenagers and one of the boys was on a bike, and as I passed him, he said, “Oh, s—! I didn’t see that woman running up behind us!” Y’all. I have never been called a woman before. Except maybe by my mom when I got my first period. And this isn’t exactly the same thing. This is a harbinger of doom. Teenagers think I’m a grownup. Is it time for a facelift?

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