Maybe it's time to move back to the mainland...
My previous blog entry admitted that I was a grouch.
Therefore, it should be no surprise that this blog entry will address the idea that I am of the older generation.
This is disgusting when one considers that I was 23 at the 1968 democratic convention. That's the convention with the famous picture of a young person (of which I was one) shooting the finger to the camera.
Picture me shooting the finger at aging. Yeah yeah yeah it beats the alternative.
But today, my principal (who is 38) counseled me to watch my phrasing in my email. Just so you'll know. She is a fabulous principal. She is broad minded and has great ideas.
But she counseled me on sending an email to the district office, saying that we had hired a new clerk. I described this new clerk as a "cracker jack clerk."
She and the people at the district office did not know what a "cracker jack" was.
Jesus H. Christ.
Maybe I shouldn't move back to the mainland. I'll just move into the first hippie oriented old folks home.
Love and kisses,
Zelda the Elder (and getting older by the minute...)