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I know, I know I’m only twenty-seven twenty-six (wow, I can’t even count anymore!), however there are quite a number of things that are beginning (and continuing) to make me feel old.

First, my former roommate for during my first three years living in Los Angeles, Brett, is mounting a political campaign for his local neighborhood council. VoteForFlater.com simultaneously gives details of his candidacy and puts me in the good company of those like Tommy Lee Jones, whose former roommates are now politicians.

Second, today my sister and her husband are celebrating their first wedding anniversary. Holy cow. A whole year has passed since that chilly and blustery weekend last year, when my sister and Jason tied the knot, and I returned to Los Angeles a few days later to find that my roommates had taped a headshot of UTLA president AJ Duffy to my bedroom ceiling, an image which remains there to this day. Happy Anniversary!

Lastly, my kids make me feel old, not because they tire me out, as much as the fact that they were born in 1996! Nineteen-ninety-six! Rodney King, OJ Simpson, and the L.A. Rams mean the same thing to my kids as Jimmy Carter, boycotted Moscow Olympics, and “Who Shot JR?” mean to me.