Age is just a (big) number

With my birthday around the corner it's my time of year to feel older.  The gray hairs I've hunted down recently don't help.  You know how they say that the sense of smell provides the greatest memory recall?  I figure the sense of taste can't be far behind, because when I tried some throwback Pepsi (you know, the stuff with real sugar, not high fructose corn syrup) it was a blast from the past. 

 

I know I've tasted this real sugar variety before, and if the info I hunted down saying that the switch to corn syrup occurred in the mid-80's is correct, I'd have been around 7.  That I was a sentient being 25 years ago is a little alarming.  On another note, it's so silly how lots of things are advertised with the word 'real.'  Made with real sugar, real cheese, etc.  I was just at Cub, where I bought some real milk, real carrots, real beef from a real cow and some real wheat bread with high fructose corn syrup.  

Michael came home from school last week with a registration booklet for middle school...another reason to feel old.  And since when do middle-schoolers get to choose from electives?  Well, on closer inspection, his only real choice was to be in band, choir, both, or some other general music class.  Okay.  But when he's in eighth grade, he'll have more options, like beginning German, Spanish, or French, and various technology classes.  Wowee.

Anyway, if I make it to 80 or 90, I know I'll look back and wonder why I was such a whiny brat about birthdays in my 30's...right?  What'd you say?  I couldn't hear you.  Nevermind, I've been sitting here too long and my back aches.  Gotta go find the hot water bottle.