Do you ever find yourself too old for things that you love? Increasingly more, I do. For example, at cocktail hour tonight with my cofriendworkers (a word I JUST invented), I found myself making a joke about how the soap at the hotel smelled like flowered butthole. Sure, it is hilarious and they dutifully lauged (fueled by our many glasses of wine). But afterwards, I just cringed. I am too old to make jokes like that. And in a few years it would be just downright sad, but I loved the joke… was so proud of myself for my ability to be like an inappropriate 20-year old girl without a husband, reputation, mortgage, or stepkids.
Parcel bags are something else I should give up. They are very hip… hip beyond my years. (How do I know? Because they sell them at Urban Outfitters.) And I have successfully avoided buying the ones with the Warhol banana or the farm animals. But when I was young enough to buy Parcel bags and not feel like a poser, I got this canvas messenger bag, and I love it. It is my standby for when I need something bigger than a purse but smaller than a backpack. It has nice long, adjustable straps so that I can make it big enough to fit my less-than-lithe frame, and it has all kinds of pockets and stuff. And I feel cool, but not hopelessly idiotic, toting it around.