spring chicken

i turned 21 back in december. the last "milestone" number.
my brother informed me last night that i'm old enough to get a concealed weapons permit. (be very afraid.)

~i'm old enough to be the adult in the front passnger seat, teaching a permitted minor how to drive. (again ... you might want to stay home.)

~i am also old enough to be a peace officer.

~there is talk of placing age limits in both nba and nascar - at 21. even if they do, i'll still be old enough to be a professional basketball player or racecar driver. still debating between the two.

~and of course (need i even say it) i'm old enough to go to bars and order alcoholic beverages.

somewhere back there, when i wasn't paying attention, i merged onto the fast track to midlife crisis, forgetting my age, and i've already begun to notice the beginnings of smile lines and (nooooooo) the dreaded forehead frown wrinkles!!! i'm a hop, skip and a jump away from botox!

let me put this to you straight, people:
in mary kay language, i'm not a velocity anymore ... i'm a timewise. my life is over.


and yet...
i had the most wonderful conversation at work today with a lady named beth. she has stuffed the bulletin inserts into the bulletins every week since long before i started working at grace. she spends an hour on the rowing machine and treadmill everyday, thinks doctors are out to get you, and only takes pills when she has a bad migraine.
beth is 89 years old.
that's 68 more than my pitiful 21.
she asked me my age, and, startled at my response, informed me of my spring chicken status (in the chicken coop of life, i can only assume).

i don't think beth has ever had botox, and i don't think i'll need any either. her life-lines are the prettiest thing...
(but what do i know - i'm just a spring chicken!)