Turning 37 (years? tons?)

So it was my birthday yesterday—don’t worry if you didn’t get me anything, ’cause I ended up with some really cool stuff.

The only reason I mention this is that, for my birthday dinner, my wife was introduced to the gastronomical greatness and excess known as Fogo de Chao. Officially, it’s a churrascaria, essentially a Brazilian steakhouse. Unofficially, it’s a night of flagging down servers carrying skewers of fifteen different preparations of meat until you’re ready to explode. Then, dessert.

However, she was also introduced to the little Brazilian cheese rolls (if you’ve had ’em, you know exactly which ones I’m talking about), and I think I’m now in trouble for having never brought any home from my occasional work week lunches at a nearby Brazilian buffet place.

(Ah—pao de queijo, that’s what they’re called. I just call them “gone”.)

Followup (Mar 16, 2005): And to top it off, one of the guys at work just brought by some homemade chorizo and potato breakfast tacos—his mom had heard I liked them and made some extras for me (!). I’m gonna weigh, like, 200 pounds by the weekend.