Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson

It's official. I am a dirty old woman.

Perhaps my lack of sleep is pushing me off cliffs of conclusions, but stay with me here. There is a popular restaurant in town that has a rather good looking waitstaff. No, we're not talking Hooters! A family establishment. I've been there before, both with my family and with the girls and the people there leave, shall we say, a lasting impression.

So this afternoon I'm in the midst of a conversation with a person I've known since 1992, and he makes the comment that he and his two brothers were in the same restaurant recently through no plan of their own - two as customers, one as a server. Upon further discussion, I learn that the server is the youngest one, the one I've known since he was pre-teen. And now he's one of the servers that my friends and I have ogled.

I don't know what's more disturbing - recognizing how attractive my friend's younger brother has become...or the fact that my friend's younger brother is now old enough to be serving me drinks.

Either way, raise that glass high. Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.