flattery

Yesterday at work, while waiting for a meeting to start, I was chatting with two of my favorite people. (Just to be clear, I have lots of favorites; these weren't my *only* two favorites.) For some reason I can't even remember, we started talking about voting. One of them asked when I first voted. I did the calculation and said "1976." The other, a sweet young thing, did the math and said, "You can't possibly be old enough to have voted then." "Yup," I replied, "I was 18. I'm about to turn 49." His lower lip started to quiver and he said "That's impossible. You're 33!" Yes, perhaps, and prematurely grey, too. Much as I don't mind growing older -- the process of graceful aging -- I did let it go to my head ever so slightly.