AuburnChick's Adventures

This afternoon, after work, I headed out to run a couple of errands. One of the things on my to-do list was to pick up more Amaretto and Sour mix.

First, I need to assure you that I do not drink much. I do not like beer or hard alcohol. I’m more of a fruity kind of gal. To be quite honest with you, I really don’t even like the taste of alcohol.

When my children were young, Mr. AuburnChick and I went on a cruise to the Bahamas. It was the first time we were away from the young ones, and at first I was terribly distraught. I got over it and enjoyed the pampering I received that week. When we got home, we were a bit depressed. We knew that real life was going to be an adjustment. The first evening, we went out to eat. I have never liked to cook much, but I was especially gagged out at the idea that night. We went to the bar while we waited for a table, and I lamented my grief to the girl-bartender.

“Honey, I’ll fix you my favorite drink,” she said with a wave of her hand.

Presto! The drink she put before me was an Amaretto Sour.

That was the best drink I’d ever had! It could have been a combination of the taste and my depression, but ever since then, Amaretto has held a special place in my heart. It’s smooth, doesn’t go to your head like the hard stuff, and you can mix it with other yummy stuff.

Hence, my errand today.

I’ve been knitting dishcloths each night while watching the Olympics on TV. Amaretto Sour goes quite nicely in this scenario. So, I headed over to my local liquor store.

Now, I have to tell you that even though I have been adult for quite a few years, I felt very uncomfortable pulling into that parking lot. However, I didn’t have much choice because the regular grocery stores do not carry my favorite Amaretto. As an up-and-coming teacher, I would really hate for a future student to one day recognize me as “That Lady Who Frequents the Liquor Store, Brown Bag in Hand.”

Anyhow, when I got there, I be-bopped out of the car into the store. I had not taken two steps before I hear the words, “May I see your ID.”

I looked behind me. There was nobody else there.

“Me,” I asked, pointing to myself.

“Yes ma’am.” (remember that I live in the true South).

Um, okay. I held up my billfold with my drivers license showing.

“No, ma’am. We need to scan it. Can you please pull it out.”

Um, okay. I watched as they ran it through one of those credit card scanner things.

Yep, it confirmed that my age really is what it says. Heck, I could have shown them the stretch marks on my belly.

“We’re sorry, ma’am, but we just had to check.”

Um, okay. Let me see if I can get this right. I am 38 years old, and you’re apologizing for carding me??? Are you kidding? Why in the world would I be upset? You have just made my day week year!

It’s nice to know that I can throw on a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops, put my hair in a ponytail, wear very little make-up, and look under 21. (Good thing they didn’t check out the hair too closely…they would have seen the white hairs starting to crop up.)

Soccer Chick was not amused when I recounted the story for her. Actually, she didn’t exactly believe me. Eat your heart out girly. When you get to be my age, you’re gonna wish you were carded occasionally too!

With the Chick children starting school this week, Rockin’ Rooster entering high school, and the reminder that I’m getting older along with them, it sure was nice to feel young again.

Filed under: This-n-That |