Most of the time I am happy to be myself, a regular person on the boring side of the bell curve, not chic or stylish or cool in any way. I do not keep up with the latest fashion styles. I have never heard of most celebrities under 30, a very few between 30 and 50, and a handful over 50 but not yet Medicare eligible. Never into cars and not impressed by brand names and glitzy ads with skinny women wearing almost nothing, I barely remember the make of my own car. I rarely see the plays, TV shows or movies my friends discuss soon after release, eventually viewing weeks or months later. The same with food fads, hot vacation spots, kitchen gadgets, video games, and the list goes on…
This lack of up-to-date information on cultural trivia usually does not bother me. When I visit the grandkids, however, I feel as if I live in a time warp. I exist in the 20th century or maybe the early years of the 21st, moving ahead like the tortoise while the kids are hares, proceeding speedily into the 21st century. The gap widens. Often we do not meet on common ground. We are apples and oranges, a generational divide the equivalent of Venus and Mars.
Why am I thinking about this now? Because in a couple of weeks hub and I begin several weeks visiting, babysitting, and traveling with the kids. Rather than browse travel brochures, scour maps and research tourist attractions, I probably should read People and/or Us magazines, watch Entertainment Tonight, download video games on my phone, find out about the latest teen idols and listen to their music, and the list goes on…
But of course I will not. I cannot concentrate on that stuff. It is as if my brain aged and no longer tolerates the rap, rock, electronic or whatever music that blares in my sensitive ears, the vapid celebrity gossip (unless it’s about politicians), most junk food and the continuous flashing lights and whine of video games. Oh, wait, the kids whine. The games ping or ring or clatter.
On the other hand I cannot wait. I will pack sweaters for Vermont, return home and choose shorts for Florida, but probably need the shorts in Vermont and a raincoat in Florida. I have a knack of not packing what is needed as weather-wise it turns out to be colder than normal, an unusual hot spell, more humid than ever before, wet in a dry season, or find accommodations with no working air conditioning in a heat wave or no heat during an ice storm.
This past weekend I travelled out of town for a bridal shower. I checked the weather report while packing, but made the mistake of believing the report.
I dressed Sunday morning in a spring outfit and sandals and walked out the door. The weather was cloudy and cold for a May spring day, in the 40s warming to the 50s.
I had a shawl for warmth, but my feet felt ice cold within minutes. The only other shoes I had with me were sneakers. Luckily a shopping center was close by. I drove to Target and bought a pair of socks and flats, both on sale. Not my first choice, but I was in a hurry, it was Sunday morning, a lot of stores were closed, and the price was right.
Comfort before style.
I remain unhip, uncool and definitely not trendy. But before beginning my travels I think I will stop by my hair salon and browse through a copy of People magazine.