Pandora's Box

C had her last day managing the bookstore yesterday. She is now planning on switching careers and will go through certification as a dog behaviorist in June. In the meantime, she has a paid apprenticeship at an animal shelter. But paid is an overstatement, as the hourly pay is minimal and the hours infrequent.

C grew up with "back-to-the-lander" parents who probably could have qualified for food stamps if they'd been willing to work the system, but that is kind of in opposition to the whole Back-to-the-Land philosophy. Regardless, she takes great pride in her white trash roots. I was not surprised, as a result, to see a great sparkle in her eye when she asked me on her last night of work, "Do you think I'll qualify for food stamps?" Of course, A, who really did grow up on food stamps, rolled her eyes at C's enthusiasm for reconnecting with the poverty aspect of her childhood.

MC and A have been very supportive of C's career change. MC is investing in C's dog training in June. And to celebrate her last day at the bookstore, MC and A took us out to Burma Superstar (our favorite restaurant - Burmese food rocks!) for dinner and Mecca for drinks.

Over drinks, we got to talking about our first alcoholic beverages.

A started drinking beer with her cousins at 11.

MC had her first sip of wine as a child, but didn't started drinking until 18 when she promptly got violently ill.

C was "straight edge" until I corrupted her in college with champagne "Truth or Dare" parties in my dorm room. And she soon drank until she passed out. Something I tease her endlessly about. Though last night she asked me for the first time, "You've passed out from drinking before, haven't you?" The truth surprised her, "Me? Hell, no!"

I had my first sip of a drink when I was about nine. My Aunt Cynthia had a pool in her back yard and would make grasshoppers for my parents as we sat poolside. I *loved* the grasshoppers and would beg and beg for more sips. But my Dad was only able to give me one sip before my Mom set her foot down. I didn't drink on my own until I was 14, when I drank wine coolers continuously until I started puking up blood - I think I'd had about six by that time. My youthful stomach couldn't handle it. And my eyes couldn't look at another wine cooler for years. And in fact, I've never had another one since!

So, C's response to my teases about her passing out, follow suit, "No, that's right. You've never passed out. But I can't believe you ever picked up a glass of booze again after puking up blood from it!"

What was your first alcoholic beverage and how old were you when you drank it?