Those Were The Days

This morning I got a good laugh while recalling the youthful days of 11 years ago, when I would secretly anticipate- dare I say wish- to get carded. I would proudly whip out my legitimate photo ID, displaying a young, freshly legal 21 year old who could buy any bottle of alcohol desired. Finally! A real ID! I was of legal age! It took 21 long, agonizing years, but I had arrived, and I was most likely buying cheap wine to celebrate.

Fast forward to today, just days before my 32nd birthday, and not much has changed. I still like to buy wine, especially if it's cheap and delicious (Trader Joe's Coastal, at $3.99/bottle, you never disappoint). I like to spare the cashier the awkwardness of having to ask, so I still get excited to whip out my photo ID and have it ready before even prompted. The only difference now is...9 times out of 10, the cashier usually responds with, "Oh, that's ok, sweetie. I don't need to see that." ROUGH TRANSLATION: Let's face it lady, you are obviously over 21. Just put the card away nice & easy, and stop the wishful thinking. And perhaps it's time you rethink your moisturizer routine. And while we're at it, is that an entire patch of gray hair growing on the side of your head?

So today when the grocery checker asked me if I remembered a certain character's name from the 1970s hit show, "The Waltons" I may have accidentally used an "outside voice" to announce the fact that I wasn't even born when that show was a raging hit. And when he raised his eyebrows in utter shock and said in his "outside voice", "REALLY?", I might have thrown my pork tenderloin at his forehead. (Just kidding, you know me; I would never ruin a perfectly good pork tenderloin.)