@postaday 278; #postaday2011.
I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted, but I do think it’s funny. I really, really, really enjoy those colleagues of mine who are young enough to be my children. I have no idea if in their eyes I’m the old lady, the crazy broad, or Anne Bancroft in ‘The Graduate,” aka, Mrs. Robinson, but I don’t let any of that get in the way of my enjoying them. If you become old and act like it’s your way or the highway, if you don’t let the youngsters show their expertise, society will implode.
Do you remember what it was like to learn new cuss words when you were a kid? Or to learn the names of certain deeds done between the sheets? Seems to me old terms get revised into new ones. I am nearly blushing as I write this, but three of my younger colleagues yesterday tossed a few my way and declined to define.
“Check ‘um on ‘Urban Dictionary,'” said my favorite new kid.
Let’s just say it seems culinary terms have taken over the promiscuous vocabulary of my past. I know it’s pretty important that if you toss salad or toss snowballs in mixed company, that you be specific. And what do I mean by mixed company? It’s those times when several generations get together and the result is mixed metaphors.
Kids these days.