The Last Hurdle

Today, November 12, 2009, I jumped the final hurdle into adulthood with the addition of a single card to my wallet: a Sam's Club Advantage Membership card. Not only am I old enough to have one, I'm old enough to care about the price difference when you buy bulk. Sure, there are other things in my wallet that say, "Look at me, I'm not a little girl anymore," credit cards, proof of insurance, money...but there is something distinctly grown up about a Sam's card. Probably the fact that it's not something I will brag about to my friends. Oh, I'll tell them, as I'm telling you, but I won't brag, I'll bemoan its presence in my wallet, adding a fraction of an inch to the thickness and a decade of age to its owner. It's the only card that does that (except for maybe an AARP card, but ignore that, I'm being melodramatic). A credit card says, look at me, I don't even need money! A driver's license says, why yes, I can give you a ride! A learner's permit says, why yes, I can make the car stall in the middle of the road! But a Sam's Card...it says, yes, I can purchase 36 Cup o' Noodles in the same package!

So, if you see me around and I'm leaning on a large mountain of Cup o' Noodles, you know why. Give me a nod, and welcome me to grown-up-hood.

What if...

...Facebook stays around for really long time. And what if I'm still a teacher ten years from now. And what if my students 10 years from now are like, "Miss, you have a Facebook?" And what if I said, "Yes! And I've had a Facebook since before you were born! Stop calling me 'Miss'!"

Gah!

My friend mentioned on her 25 Things About Her list (if you don't know what this is, you're obviously not on Facebook) that she's turning 24 this year. (I am 100% sure there is something stuck under my delete key which is really bad, because I use it all the time. Grrrr...I need a can of compressed air) So, if she's turning 24 this year, then that means I'm turning 24 this year! When did that happen? Somehow I became a person in my mid-20s without noticing it. I can only imagine that the getting old thing only gets worse as I actually get old.

I was thinking the other day about how young my students are. One was born in 1994. I was 9 years old at the time. Freshmen this year have never lived in a world without cell phones or with the USSR. Wow. And then I told my dad this and he put things in perspective. My grandparents found out about my birth via telegram. Telegram! The thing where a guy in a uniform drives up to your house, rings your doorbell and starts singing "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling!" hands you a message! He also said something about not having direct dial long distance, but I'm sure they've always had that. I think maybe he was pulling my leg.