Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

This is my Dadoo wondering if I'm
going to eat ALL the hot sauce.

I'm a bit sensitive about my age. Actually I'm really sensitive. It's not that I'm embarrassed. It's more that I just don't feel that old nor do I want to be that old. I'm almost thirty!!!

I don't know why it freaks me out so much, but it does. It freaks me out to be one of the older ones at work. It freaks me out to think that I graduated from high school almost 10 years ago, because it really doesn't seem like it was so long ago. It really freaks me out when I go back home and see these kids that were tiny when I last saw them. Now they're tall gangly kids playing basketball or winning spelling bees or being homecoming queen.

I know that everyone is going to get old and that's just the way the cookie crumbles but sometimes it just hits me. Sometimes it comes out of the blue. A couple of years ago, I was sitting in my car at an intersection and suddenly I thought "Oh man! I'm twenty-four!!!" It just didn't feel right! And then there's other times, when it hits me because someone's shoving it right into my face.

My dad is a bit of a troublemaker and will bring up things just to "getcher goat." (I certainly didn't inherit that from him, thank goodness! I never cause trouble!) I was back home this weekend and we were discussing this kid and how I couldn't believe how old she is.

"That means you're really old! How old are you going to be this year? Twenty-seven?" "Yes." "Oh! Really?? I was just trying to give you trouble! Are you really going to be twenty-seven? I thought you were just going to be twenty-six! Haha! You are old!"

At least he made me a giant loaf of bread this weekend. That almost makes up for 1) Forgetting my age and 2) Giving me crap about my age. Thanks, Dad!