She was just 17, and you know what I mean...
I had an interesting juxtaposition of experiences today and this past weekend:
While adding money to my Georgetown GoCard for purchasing such things as a hot chocolate on a rainy, cold day in early September, I was told that I looked like I was 17. 18 at the oldest. I am used to being mistaken for someone much younger that my actual age, but the woman really kept at it. I mean, really! Then, 20 minutes later a traditional nursing student (she's a junior) couldn't believe that I was 30 either.
Juxtapose that with the events of this past weekend when the Orlops got together for lots of laughing and a jaunt from Hartford to the place where it all began in Northampton, Massachusetts. We were loud and obnoxious alums enjoying our visit to the ol' stomping grounds, sweet-talking our way into such free things as seeing the artist-designed bathrooms in the basement of the new Museum of Art.
I went from feeling my age (somewhat) to being told that I looked almost less than half my age in the span of a day.
While adding money to my Georgetown GoCard for purchasing such things as a hot chocolate on a rainy, cold day in early September, I was told that I looked like I was 17. 18 at the oldest. I am used to being mistaken for someone much younger that my actual age, but the woman really kept at it. I mean, really! Then, 20 minutes later a traditional nursing student (she's a junior) couldn't believe that I was 30 either.
Juxtapose that with the events of this past weekend when the Orlops got together for lots of laughing and a jaunt from Hartford to the place where it all began in Northampton, Massachusetts. We were loud and obnoxious alums enjoying our visit to the ol' stomping grounds, sweet-talking our way into such free things as seeing the artist-designed bathrooms in the basement of the new Museum of Art.
I went from feeling my age (somewhat) to being told that I looked almost less than half my age in the span of a day.
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