25 is the new...25?

25 years ago today my poor mother waited patiently for my dad to finish his softball game at church so that she could give birth to her second child. To this day I contribute my competitiveness to my father -- we don't leave a game unfinished, contractions or no contractions. I'm sure his team won, too.

Other than being able to rent a car without ridiculous fees, turning 25 doesn't carry much glitz or glamour. Except that now I feel like a legitimate adult. (Legitimate adult. Ha. If you consider eating Dairy Queen for dinner something a legitimate adult would do, then ok.)

The Man has taken every opportunity to remind me of my age, and I can't blame him really. He's a young, hot, muscular man who works in security and I'm the mature, poised, older woman who works in the office. What can I say? In his words, I'm a cougar. (Although a 14 month age difference hardly constitutes a cougar in my opinion. I may be a wanna-be Jew by marriage, but I'm no Demi Moore.)

25.

Does anyone know if prune juice is on sale at The Jewel?