You know what one of my pet peeves is? On cooking shows, when they make something and don’t fully scrape out the bowl. That drives me crazy. I realize they probably don’t want the hosts wasting precious air time scraping every last particle out of the bowl. But seriously, they leave half the batter in the bowl.
Sorry, I got distracted.
Anyway, it’s been awhile since I’ve written. How is Christmas already done? Wasn’t it just the Fourth of July? My favorite part of Christmas is caroling. This is a long standing tradition and I love it. Singing to people just brings so much joy.
Unfortunately, it was raining cats and dogs on the day we were scheduled to go caroling at church. So, we cancelled. And I was sad. However, never fear. My college ministry group carols too, so disaster averted. We all loaded in a van and drove around Fayetteville to houses and a retirement home to sing. My friend, Jordan, who is a grad student at OSU, went with us and it was her very first time to carol.
At our last house, one of the ladies was greeting us as we left and said to us, are you ladies freshmen or sophomores? Hmm, neither. We kindly informed her that we had both already graduated from undergrad and that Jordan was in grad school. Sadly, she’s not the only one who has questioned my age lately.
Literally, no one knows.
On a recent flight, my brother and I were seated in the exit row. He boarded ahead of me and the lady informed him of his “exit row duties” and let him on. As I stepped forward, she told me I was seated in the exit row as well. When I told her that was fine, she looked at me a little puzzled and said, you are 15, right? Apparently, you have to be at least 15 years old to sit in the exit row.
Yep, I’m over 15. By 9 years.
Then, I went to the movies with some friends this past weekend and the movie we happened to choose was rated R. They went first, gave the girl their tickets and walked through. But, when I stepped up behind them, the girl said: I need to ask you, how old are you? Confused as to why she was asking, I said I’m 24. She looked embarrassed and let me go. I forgot that you have to be 17 to see anything R rated.
15, 17, 24, who cares at this point? Age seems pretty relative anyway. To my delight, caroling was rescheduled with our church group and we got to sing to Santa! Literally, one of the little girls thought it was really Santa’s house.
But, as we all know, the real Santa lives in the North Pole.
Wait, how old am I again?