So I head out into the Oklahoma hinterlands (and believe me, with the weather we’ve had lately, ANY excursion outside feels like that *g*), for…guess first…I dare you.

What would I, an almost-forty, stuck in a pit of non-writing woe, do?

Head to the damned liquor store, thank you very much!  LOL.

So I go to the place that’s a few miles away, but not one I regularly visit (hey, it’s not on my way home from work), and pick up a bottle of Chardonnay.  Medicinal purposes, mind you…I’m blocked, and Chardonnay usually manages to work past my actual rational thought and hit my writing psychosis.

So anyway, I bring my Sutter Home up to the checkout desk…and the woman behind the counter CARDS ME!!!  Damn!!!  Granted, I was wearing my hair pulled up into  ballcap (standard Oklahoma Saturday wear), and people have told me I don’t look forty, but…

Let’s just suffice to say that it seriously lifted my mood until my DH reminded me that a bunch of places had recently been busted for selling to underage minors.  Like I could ever pass for that…but damn him for being a buzz-kill!

And you thought this post was gonna be something momentous about my writing!

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