Christmas Card 2012

PHEW!  

Now that was a blogging break.  It wasn't exactly intentional and not sure if it was just a bloggy block or just that we have been so busy!!  A bit of both, me thinks.

But what better way to feel inspired to do a post than participate in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop , in particular, a Christmas card share!  

Since our boys were born we always make our own cards.  I usually come up with an idea first, then I get Hubby, who is much faster on Photoshop than I am, to make it happen.  There's always a lot of brainstorming along the way, which is the part I really like.

So here's our card for this year.  After it was created and all cards were complete, the only thing I would have liked to add was our 'lil bunny Milo peaking around the corner of one of the gifts.  Always hindsight.  I still like it, though.

Here's hoping everyone out in bloggy land had a wonderful Christmas with lots of love, laughter (and Baileys!...or was that just me?)

I hope to be back blogging in the New Year, hopefully with a fresh new look to my blog!

Simply Merino = Simply FABULOUS!

Okay, here's a pop quiz.

1)  What material is all natural (i.e., chemical free), is anti-microbial and flame-resistant?

2) What material is super soft against your skin and regulates body temperature?

3) What the heck is this:

Yes, it's a sheep.  I think.  No, no, it's a sheep.

But do you know what type of sheep?  It's a merino sheep which hails from New Zealand.  So that gives away the answer to questions 1 & 2.  I'm talking about merino wool, baby.

Okay, pop quiz no. 2:

1) What item of clothing does your child or children practically live in and you probably would too if given half the chance?

2) ....

Oh, forget it.  I'm just going to give you the answer.  It's...

PJs!!!

Yep, Hugh Hefner isn't the only one who would prefer to reside in his pjs all day.  I'm pretty fond of it myself, but my boys are even more so!

Shopping for pyjamas for my boys, however, has never been a lot of fun.  First off, the selection in the stores leaves little to be desired, unless you're into advertising the latest Disney film out in theatres.  And I'm always a lot a little worried about what chemical they've put on the pjs to then prompt them to put a "fire resistant" tag on them.  Oh, and my boys usually sweat bullets in them...definitely NOT the most natural fibre in those types of pyjamas.

So along comes a Vancouver mum of 3, who was inspired at a preschool talk.  The speaker spoke of merino wool and of its natural, organic qualities, of it being naturally fire resistant and it hit her.  Not the actual wool, but the fact that her husband is from New Zealand and they have loads of the wooly stuff at home sent from his family as gifts.  So she had an idea.

It was as simple as that.

And Simply Merino was born.

Now, I'm lucky enough to know this stay-at-home mum turned entrepreneur as our kids go to the same preschool.  She is Jill Wood and she is my new hero.  Raising three kids and juggling their schedules is challenging enough, to now be the owner of this great business?  Like I said...hero.

Needless to say, my boys are now the proud owners of a pair of Jill's pjs.  There's only one problem that I've come across that I have yet to tell Jill.  (Well, I guess I'm about to.)

I can't get the boys out of them to wash them!

They absolutely love them!  I'm hearing words like "cozy-wozy" and "comfy" and "snuggly" and they don't want to take them off!  Let's just say those stay-at-home pyjama days are becoming a regular thing in this house!

They actually wore them for an entire weekend the first weekend they got them.  They had skating lessons and so we just put their clothes on top and they went from pjs to thermal wear!  After skating they became pjs again.

It's obvious I could go on and on about Simply Merino, but I encourage you to check them out for yourself.  They ship to Canada, the US & Internationally.

You will not be disappointed!  With Christmas on the way, a pair of Simply Merinos would be a wonderful gift for the kids in your life, giving you the peace of mind that they are snug in their beds with the safest possible (and most stylish) material against their precious skin.

Oh, I almost forgot...

Believe it or not, this photo was not staged.  They actually fell asleep like this!

It makes them sleep better too!  I'm not kidding.  They seem to sleep through the night when wearing these pyjamas.  I'm guessing it's the fact that their body temperature is regulated.  They always woke up either too hot or too cold before we got them.

Oh, and a little birdie told me that some adult sizes might be in the works!

Merry Christmas to me!

In the Blink of an Eye ...

On October 15th, 2008, you came into my world...

All of a sudden you were 1 ...

I turned my back for a minute and you were 2 ...

At the speed of sound, you reached 3 ...

And in the blink of an eye you are 4 !!

In the words of Simon & Garfunkel ...

"Slow Down, You Move Too Fast!"

Happy Birthday, Buddy!

Love, Mum.

I'm linking up with Galit & Alison &
Tracy this month, capturing memories.

Instagram Addiction Alive & Well

Ahhhh, Instagram.

I've always described myself as NOT having an addictive personality.

And along came Instagram.

And I am an Instagrammin' fool.

Dictionary.com defines "addiction" as:

"the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma."

Other than the need to include Instagram as habit forming in this definition, I'd say this pretty much describes me.

Enslaved...Yep.

Habit-forming...Uh-huh.

Severe trauma...You said it sister - er, brother - er, whoever you are who wrote this definition.

I could almost give up my blog and just Instagram my life away.

It's. Just. So. Much. Fun!

It's that little bit of creativity in a day full of dishes, bunny poo and dealing with the wants and needs of others.

It's just for ME!

Oh, and it's great to connect with others.  You can really get to know someone and what their life is like through their pictures.  Pictures really can say 1,000 words...or at least 150.

And now they've gone and created Instacanvas.

Have you seen this?

"Instacanvas is a marketplace to buy, sell and discover Instagram art and photography from around the world."

Thanks to my Instagram pal, Christine, I now have a gallery over at Instacanvas and my "little" addiction has taken on a whole new direction.

With Instacanvas I can get all artsy-fartsy (in my own mind at least) and look at the world with a slightly more creative eye instead of the constant "Look both ways!" that I'm forever shouting at my children as we walk down the street.

It's kind of like living in the now and it helps me notice the little things.  And really, it's the little things that make the world go 'round.

So check out my gallery over at instacanv.as/mommyinconsistent and create your own and I'll check you out!

In the meantime, here's some of my most recent pics...

The Ladybug Saga

He cried real tears.

They fell upon his cheeks, one after another and he sobbed...that real kind of sobbing that just makes you cry along.

He sobbed at the loss of his new friend who he met and lost all in the same day.

I'm talking of my 'Lil K.

Yesterday he was with a friend walking to school and they came across a bunch of ladybugs.  I wasn't there, but the story goes, if I remember correctly, that 'Lil K kept trying to get one to walk on him and finally one did.  He was so excited and said things like, "He likes me!" and "Oooh, it tickles."  You know, the things you say when a ladybug is waltzing up and down your arm.

I believe he walked all the way to preschool with his new friend on his arm.  Two peas in a pod...until...

He put his new friend in his pocket.

He thought it would be good to take him home and put him in a box.  (The ladybug is a "him", by the way)

But ladybugs don't belong in the pocket of your brand new skinny jeans...or any jeans for that matter.

It was the talk of the preschool..."The Ladybug Saga", I think the teacher called it.

When we got home he started to cry again.

I decided to take the above picture that my friend had sent me and frame it for him so he could always remember his little friend.  I showed him pictures of my husband's grandmother who had passed away, and pictures of my pets who have died.  I wanted to show him that we had pictures too; we've lost loved ones too.  It's a part of life and it's nice to have pictures to remember.

He kept telling me that his friend had died.

"HE DIED IN MY POCKET!", he wailed.

"Well, how do you know he is dead?", I questioned.  (Genius question, I know.)

"HE WASN'T MOVING!"

(Oh, right.)

I then asked him if "he" was still in his pocket.

"He" was.

So I told him I'd get the ladybug out of his pocket and we'd bury it in the yard, that that is what people did when somethingone dies.

I got a tissue, and as gently as possible got the bug out of his pocket.  It was then I noticed something.

But of course it was in bad shape with a broken wing, at least one broken leg and probably numerous other injuries too small for my eyes to see.

As you can imagine, 'Lil K was beside himself with grief.

"I DON'T WANT HIM TO DIE!", he kept crying.

Since I'm of the mind that it's best to be honest with your children and just tell it like it is, I told him that he "might" not die, but he was in rough shape and that he probably would.  I tried to soothe him by saying that the ladybug had a great life, you were a good friend to him....yada-yada-yada...the things you say at times like this.

I decided the best thing to do for 'Lil K and his ladybug friend was to put "him" in the palliative care unit of our patio.  I got a plastic lid, some grass, a couple of leaves and some droplets of water (stop laughing at me!) and put him there to live out the last minutes of his life.

But "he" was a fighter.  That's obvious due to the fact he survived in the pocket of an almost 4-yr-old's jeans.  For hours.  He kept teetering along in his make-shift hospital bed, but I'm afraid it was futile.

First thing this morning, 'Lil K wanted to check on our patient.

As expected, Ladybug, had died during the night.

We found a box, put him in, along with leaf, grass and a clover and with Big Bro T  and spade in hand set off to find a nice spot to bury him.

It was a lovely service.

Since then I've had to remind 'Lil K several times that once we lay someone to rest, we don't then dig them up.

R.I.P. Mr. Ladybug.

Linking up with Greta 

over at gfunkified  

The One

Two years ago today I married, The One.

The One I call "Babe" ...

The One I laugh with ...

The One I argue with ...

The One who kisses me daily ...

The One I kiss back ...

The One who frustrates me ...

The One I frustrate ...

The One I worry with ...

The One I dream with ...

The One I plan with ...

The One I grow with ...

The One I love ...

The One who loves me ...

The One who helped me create two amazing 'lil souls ...

The One who joins me in all my silliness!

Happy Anniversary to The One!

Heart Age

The other day I was visiting my mum.  She will be 80 next week.  She lives in a care home just down the street from us so I'm lucky I'm able to visit her often.  She suffers from a form of dementia and whereas she still knows who we are when she sees us, her short-term memory is practically non-existent.  I'd say she has less than a five-minute memory.

We've been having some wonderful weather for the start of September, warm and sunny, so during our visit I wheeled her to the outdoor patio and we sat enjoying the sun for a while until it got too hot for her and then we moved under a 'lil gazebo to cool off in the shade.

These days the conversations I have with my mum are pretty much always the same.  Basically it is my mum talking about and asking about how old she is and how old I am.  That's pretty much it.

"How old are you?", she asks.

"45", I say.

"45???"  She is always shocked by my answer.

"And I'm 75", she says, most certain that she is correct.

I tell her, "Well, you're 79.  You'll be 80 next week, but you can be 75 if you want to be."

She's always in disbelief when I tell her she's going to be 80.

"I can't be 80.  How old are you?"

And so the conversation goes...

After a little bit, two other women came and joined us; one a resident in the home; the other, her younger friend.

There was chit-chat about the gorgeous weather and then my mum started asking me how old she was again.

"You're 79 and you're going to be 80 next week", I said.

I've long stopped being irritated by my mum's continuous questioning of people's ages.  She can't help it.  Every time she sees Big T, she asks him his age, every couple of minutes while he's there.  He's very sweet with her and just says politely, "Still 6".

She always laughs at that.

After about 5 minutes of hearing my mum and my conversation about our ages and the boys' ages, the younger of the two women sitting at the table with us asked my mum:

"How old are you in your heart?"

My mum seemed to instantly understand what she meant.

Without hesitation, my mum said, "40".

The woman asked my mum if that was one of the best times in her life and my mum answered that it was, because she had us kids.  I am her youngest and would have been 4 years old.  My brothers would have been 6 and 11.

The woman said in her heart she was 17.

I thought what a great way to think about age.

What age are we in our hearts?

Whereas I still feel like a teenager and am still surprised that I'm not carded anymore (or perhaps that's just vanity?), if you asked me what age I am in my heart, I would have to say 45.

That's somewhat surprising to me because I often find myself complaining about little things.  But as hard as this parenting gig is at times with all the whining, the fighting, the lack of a wardrobe (mine, not theirs), a house that is in a constant state of disaster, this is the best time of my life.

I know it is.

That's not to say I think it's all down hill from here.  Quite the contrary.  I feel people get better with age and if they don't, then they're doing something wrong.

Of course there are things I'd prefer were different.  I'd prefer not to have to work three nights out of the week and be away from my boys and my hubby.  It would be cool if I could get this extra weight off my middle, don a bikini and go on a cruise.  But these things are superficial.  They don't really matter.  (well, except the being away from the boys part, but that will change)

After this conversation with the lady at our table, my mum again asked me how old I was.

"45", I reminded her.

"How can you be 45 when I'm only 40?"

To that I just smiled.

And she laughed.

She's always laughing.

So I'm 45 and my mum is 40.

I've got to say, it's pretty cool having such a young mum.

How old are YOU in YOUR heart??

I missed linking up with Shell this week,
but I'm pouring my heart out anyways.

One Thing I Won't Miss About Summer...

Well, September has arrived.

The sun is still shining; we're still wearing shorts & t-shirts, but there is definitely a change in the air.

A new school year has begun.

Yep, that's it.

Over are my our lazy mornings, staying in our pjs until noon or later...going where the wind takes us, when it takes us.

No more afternoons guzzling sipping a Strongbow in my favourite garden chair, feeling such pride as I gaze at what for sure would be my prize-winning green onions, at the same time feeling melancholy about the lack of growth in my carrots, planning next year's strategy.

Evenings at the beach playing 'til the sun sets will now be replaced with coaxing my new Grade One student to do some night-time reading and getting my wide-awake 3-1/2 year old to shut his eyes and Go The F*ck To Sleep so as not to mess with an already chaotic morning by not waking up in time to have breakfast before we rush out the door.

No road trips, no last-minute bar-b-ques, no bike rides, no runs through the sprinkler...

I'll miss those things.

But there's one thing I WILL NOT miss.

The seemingly nice Ice Cream Man in his seemingly innocent Ice Cream Truck, playing that seemingly fun, but more often than not out-of-tune music.

Nope, won't miss this one bit.

I've grown to despise him actually...to avoid him with all my might.

But he finds us.  Every time.

Sure, they seem fun and friendly, with all their cool, icy treats, but really, they taunt us, children and parents alike...drawing us to their trucks with their trancelike powers...those sorcerers.

They are just too much...the way they drive slowly past a park or a playground, stalking us, tempting the kiddies, making them scream those all-to-familiar words "IIIICE CREEEEEAM TRUUUUUUCK" and run uncontrollably in its direction.  We parents do not stand a chance against this type of seduction, this accepted form of cruelty.  At least I rarely do.

I know, I'm going on and on.

I have three reasons I dislike these trucks and the ice-cream pusher who resides inside.

Reason no. 3:  It messes with my already fragile willpower.

Reason no. 2:  Since it's summer and I've often let the wind take us to the beach/park completely unplanned and spontaneous, I rarely have enough cash in my wallet so the whole scenario usually ends in disappointment.

But the No. 1 reason I dislike the Ice Cream Truck:

UGH!  These are disgusting!

Check out the ingredients of the Dora bar:

* * * * *

Ingredients:
Ice: water, sugar, maltodextrin, corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup, natural and artificial flavors, guar gum, modified cellulose, locust bean gum, mono & diglycerides, cellulose gum, polysorbate 65 & 80, carrageenan, citric acid, malice acid, pectin, yellow 5&6, red 40, blue 1, and annatto.
Gumball: sugar, dextrose, corn syrup, gum base, corn starch, artificial flavors, resionous glaze, glycerin, tapioca dextrin, carnauba wax, yellow 6, red 40, blue 1 BHT (to maintain freshness)

* * * * *

Now, I am by no means a fanatic when it comes to healthy food.  My kids get treats...too many treats.

I draw the line with these.

Of course the kids love them, they are like crack to them, with their tempting colours and likeness to their favourite cartoon characters.

But I've put my foot down.  I've been strong and not succumbed to the begging of my children.

So to the Ice Cream Man and his wicket confection, I say "NO!" and we will continue to enjoy other treats, like a regular 'ol popsicle, a regular 'ol ice cream sandwich, a regular 'ol fruit bar.  The treats of my childhood.  Still not the most ideal ingredients, but a little more acceptable in my mind.

Nope, will not miss the ice cream truck...not at all.

A Coffee Lovin' Review

For those unaware, I am a coffee LOVER.  Lover, I tell you.  I'm sure I've written of it before.  I love all things coffee.  Coffee ice cream, coffee candy, coffee liqueur...coffee, coffee, COFFEE!!   When asked at a restaurant if I want dessert, I will most always choose a cup of steaming hot coffee instead!

He was my cream, and I was his coffee - And when you poured us together, it was something.

~Josephine Baker

Look, I can even get romantic over coffee.

So why am I blogging about my love for coffee?

Here's why:

"Delicious Goodness in a Cup!"

I was approached by Liz over at Nuvia Cafe asking me if I would like to review an exciting new product, a breakthrough in healthy coffee.  She said that they were looking for reviews of this new product and so were giving away free samples.

Did she say COFFEE?  HEALTHY COFFEE?

Did she say FREE SAMPLES???

Blinded by my love of all things coffee (and all things free), I thought about it for all of 1.3 seconds and then eagerly sent her my contact info.

I've received product-review requests from others in my over a year of blogging, but wasn't quite sure I wanted to take my blog in that direction, and no other product really ever caught my eye or suited my blog, in my opinion.

Until this.

So here it is...my first ever review of a product.  (Ahem...)

First off, some background:

Nuvia is Sumatran Arabica coffee infused with a trifecta of legendary ingredients:  Ganoderma (an immune enhancer), African Mango (a natural appetite suppressant) and Pomegranate (a super antioxidant).  The Sumatran coffee beans are roasted to perfection yielding a superior flavor that is rustic, yet rich and full bodied.

It claims to support healthy energy, support immune health & is a premium appetite suppressant.  

I don't know about you, but I could use a good appetite suppressant in my life, especially after my overindulgent summer this year.

One thing I really like about Nuvia Cafe - other than its GREAT taste - is that it is an instant coffee.  I know a lot of people screw their noses up at instant coffee, but I'm not one of them.  In fact, currently I don't even own a French press or a drip coffee maker, so I absolutely love the idea of an instant coffee.  And this coffee is truly delish!  The convenient little pouches are great.  I love that I can just chuck one in my bag (or two or three) and take it with me.  All it takes is a mug, 6-8 ounces of hot water and a pack of Nuvia and you're set for a great coffee experience.

Going Dutch!

I've not been blogging much lately.

Yes, it has to do with summer and lazy mornings puttering in my wee garden, hanging out with my boys at our local outdoor pool with friends.  You know the drill.

I guess I could blog about what we've been doing this summer, like our first-ever road trip with the boys that went surprisingly well...but my mind is elsewhere ...

My mind is here:

Super Deluxe 3i Lady

and here:

Love the Pannier

oh, and here:

Nice colours and white-wall tires!

But mostly my mind is with this beauty:

Amsterdam Royal 8i Lady (notice the skirt guard)

Yep, I am recently obsessed with getting a new bike....a cruiser to be more specific.

I've been riding my old mountain bike to work or whenever I get the chance, but less for "exercise" and more for just commuting to and from where I need to be.  And I've gotta say:  I am loving it!  I've given my bike a tune-up, some new tires, a couple of baskets and a new comfy seat.  I've got it as "cruise-like" as I think a mountain bike can be, but it's not quite doing it for me.  

What I'm really loving about riding my bike these days is that I'm not changing into work-out clothes to go for a bike ride.  It's like a "come-as-you-are party"... I just hop on and go, flip-flops and all.  And since it is summer, more often than not I'm in a summer dress.  

I have discovered something about myself and that is that I love riding my bike in a dress or a skirt.  LOVE IT!!  I've recently read about the "Mary Poppin's Effect" and that is that when a woman wears a dress while cycling, people - and especially drivers - are far more courteous to them than if they weren't wearing a dress or skirt.  I mean, who in their right mind would be rude to Mary Poppins?

Sexist?

Perhaps.

Do I care?

NOPE!

Apparently, it goes for men too though.  Men in a suit or regular clothes get treated better on the road than those in more sporty or biking attire.

Whatever it is, I could always go for someone being more courteous to me.  Bike shorts be gone!  

I have dreams of me casually riding to the local veg store, grabbing some cilantro for my bunny, a baguette for dinner, a bottle of wine, putting them in my basket and cruising down the street...wind blowing through my hair on my hip cruiser. 

It just feels like the right thing to do.

The Toughest Questions

As my boys get older, they are starting to ask questions that I am finding to be a challenge to answer.  Whereas once I worried if I'd be able to answer questions like "What makes a cloud?" or "What's the square root of..." (math has never been my strongest skill), now I'm dealing with questions that I feel are a million times tougher.

The latest, toughest question actually had to do with Santa Clause.  Although I'm not super traditional, I do love the tradition of children believing in Santa for as long as possible.  Santa is as magic as childhood should be.  (Every childhood)  My boys definitely believe in Santa as evidenced by them talking with him on almost a daily basis.  Whenever they see something that they would like, I hear, "Santa, can I have that black corvette/spiderman toy/lego something-or-other for Christmas, please?"  (At least they say please)

The question came after seeing a tv commercial showing poor families in Africa and more specifically children.  My boys were acting particularly selfish this one day (as 'lil kids often do) and I was overly frustrated with all their "I wants", so when that commercial came on, I paused on it.  Of course I am conflicted about this because I don't think my boys should ever feel guilty about what they have, but I also want to instil a sense of gratitude and compassion for those less fortunate then we are.  I want them to feel lucky and, more importantly, thankful.  Of course they were fascinated with the images of the children on the screen and because of my frustration of the day, I eagerly explained that these children didn't have any toys and how lucky my boys are to have what they have.

It wasn't until hours later as we were driving in the car that my eldest son asked me about the children he saw on tv.

"Doesn't Santa bring them toys?"

Ugh!  I never thought of that.  That's a toughie!  How do I explain this without giving the magic of Santa away?  Santa is supposed to bring toys to all the boys and girls of the world.

I can't even remember what I mumbled about this.  As I recall, Hubby was pretty much silent as well.  I still don't know quite what to say to a 3 and 6 year old with regards to why Santa missed these children.  Did his sleigh break down? (Lame) Did he lose his way? (No, Rudolf would have found them)  Did he forget them? (No way he'd forget them)

Once again, this parenting gig has thrown me for a loop.  I have no problems explaining how babies are made and where they come from.  I tell it like it is.  But Santa?  I am so conflicted with keeping the magic alive and telling the truth.

Suggestions anyone?

I'm linking up with Shell at Things I Can't Say.

Wordless Wednesday

* sigh *

Brothers Are Forever ...

Life this month is CRAZY busy!!  

With Big T's 6th Birthday (working on that post) and my sister-in-law's wedding AND a road trip, I haven't been able to get to blogging.

I can make the time for Instagram though.  

"Hi, my name is Jill and I'm an Instagram addict."

One of my most recent photos I played around with in Instagram and also a new app I've just downloaded called "Phoster"... was this one of the boys at a water park.

In our house these days, the boys are doing a lot of bickering and there's a huge amount of competition going on...and complaining...and whining...

"I want the dark blue bowl" ...

"No, I want the dark blue bowl" ...

"I said it first" ...

"No, I said it first" ...

You get the idea.

I find myself telling them that "Brother's are forever".  You know, so be nice to each other, etc.  I'm pretty sure what they hear me saying is "Blah Blah Blah...or no treats!"  (Oh, they heard that last part, all right)

So needless to say, whenever I see a moment when they are truly getting along like I feel brothers should, I grab the phone and snap away!

Here was one such moment as they watched a leaf float down the water-park river.

And thanks to my pal Kristen over at The Preppy Girl In Pink, I'm linking up with Galit and Alison for their Memories Captured linky.  I think Kristen reminded me about it last month too!  Now that's a great bloggy friend.

Hmmmm ...

The Preppy Girl In Pink

Thanks again, Kristen!

Card Me, Please!

"McLovin'" and his fake ID

Did you see the movie "Super Bad" where one of the characters gets a fake ID made so that he can buy some alcohol for him and his friends?  It's pretty funny.  Worth the rental me thinks.

Anyways, I must admit...I'm jealous of "McLovin'".

Jealous right down to my core.

The reason?

I DON'T GET CARDED ANYMORE!

It really is a slap in the face.

Because of this I've come to the realization that I must have an extremely warped view of myself.

I'm young!!  I mean, would an older person enjoy a movie like "Super Bad"?  Would they even know about it?

Don't get me wrong.  I have nothing against old people.  I like them.  My mom's one of them.  I'm interested in their life, their stories.

I'm going to be "old" one day....

It's just not today!

When did it happen that I no longer look too young to drink?  I certainly don't feel that way...unless you count every morning when I'm awakened by a screaming three-year-old.  Gotta admit, I feel pretty old before 6 in the morning.

But in general, I'm young...or young at heart...

I'm not immature...

Unless I choose to be.  That's different.

No, no.  I'm guessing it's a conspiracy thought up by all the liquor store employees out to make me feel like an old woman.  They've even at times used the word...ahem..."Ma'am".

Cruel bastards.

To be honest, I'm a bit inconsistent in my opinion of aging.  (No surprise there)

I think we only get  better as we get older.  If you don't, you're doing something wrong.  But I still don't need to be reminded of it every time I go to get a bottle of wine.

In summary, I just have one thing to say to the liquor store employees of the world: