Friday, January 15, 2010

289/365 All in moderation

When we were kids, my parents referred to alcoholic beverages as "yuck drinks" to dissuade us from being interested.

If I asked to try a sip of her "yuck drink," Mom would say, "Okay, but you're not going to like it." And sure enough, it worked -- I didn't.

As an older teenager, the primary force that kept me from drinking with friends was the crippling fear (and surefire knowledge) that Mom Would Find Out. Sure, most kids fear getting caught. But my mom was seemingly inhuman in her ability to sniff out wrongdoing, with "sniff" being a key word.

Her sense of smell is ridiculously good. So good and so sensitive that I wasn't able to wear much perfume because it gave her a headache.

I just knew that if I was even in the vicinity of a keg she'd smell it on me. Even if I never touched a drop, just being in the presence of it would trigger the bloodhound instinct.

And then I'd be on house arrest until I turned 25.

With that in mind, I didn't turn into much of a partier. Even though I'm now fully legal (and have been for some time), I still feel a little odd having a drink in the presence of Mom and Dad.

Not many forces are more powerful than a parent, are they?

Camera: Canon 40D with 60mm macro lens and 430EX Speedlite, 1/125s, f/2.8 at ISO 640

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