A generic update…nothing special:
This is my experience ordering my first drink as a twenty-one year old:
My father came home from work during his lunch break to take me out for food. We both decided on a placed called “La Bamba” to get some tasty Mexican dishes. I decided to go for a Chimichanga and the typical Strawberry Daiquiri; simple but tasty, and I was sure I would enjoy it. No risks.
But here’s the good part– the waiter was a cock-eyed (seriously cock-eyed) Mexican who barely spoke English and lived in Alabama. Talk about strange. What’s more strange is that he didn’t card me even though the people I met at church this morning thought I was in high school. I figure the average age I appear is that of a seventeen year old girl. How disappointing.
Friday night, my dad & I dressed all “fancy-like” & attended the Army Birthday Ball. Colonel Jones, who I met the week before and absolutely adore, hosted the night with jokes & sentimental thoughts. While I’m not too fond of military talk & things relating to it, I met some really great people that work for my dad (one woman even informed me of her best friend who is looking to hire a receptionist for the summer at her hair salon…bwerry!).
Saturday, as “required” by Alabama “law” (aka–typical of the locals), I went to the gun range & shot a few dozen rounds, drank a beer with pops at home afterward, then spent two hours disassembling the gun to clean it & then reassemble. It’s actually something I missed doing—the perks of living with dad. (Below-my handiwork) While I’m going crazy here without a job yet & struggling with getting accustomed to the culture here , I’m absolutely loving the time with my dad & can’t wait for some future trips camping out, canoing, and shooting.
Life is good.
