It's in the Cards

Being nearly twice the legal drinking age, I'm always happy thrilled ecstatic to be "carded" when buying something alcoholic.

Since I don't do it very often the thrill never diminishes.

So Emily and I are in a "state store" -- as they're called in Pennsylvania -- and I decide to buy some wine for Stuart and me.

We'd been talking about it for awhile but haven't had the funds to splurge on this luxury. Somehow milk always wins out where the family food/drink budget is concerned.

Idlegrass.

So Emily and I are in the "state store" -- as they're...oops. I already typed that.

I put it on the counter beside the register and pick out a little bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream to add to some coffee later on.

The man looks at me as he's ringing up the two items.

I suddenly feel very guilty...like I don't belong in the store, like I'm way underage, or something. I'm getting a single bottle of wine, for goodness sakes.

"Do you have a license or an ID or something," he asks.

I blush with pleasure. Of course, I do. Am I getting carded at nearly 40 years old? "Wow!" I say. "Not often I get carded at my age."

"We have to card everyone who looks like they're under 30," he admits.

I blush again and pay for my items, chuckling all the way out of the store.

Emily hugs my arm, thrilled to have such a "young-looking" mom. "They probably ask for everyone's ID but say that to make you feel good," she says.

Pop! The moment is gone.

But I laugh and agree.

Still, it was fun to be "so young" for a moment...