Some praise and a tale of Yold*

I felt obligated after my last post to stay true to my word...I gave you all one day free of my banter...well, that's all you get! ;)  (picture "No soup for you!" guy from Seinfeld...no?...did it for me)
It's another one of  those days that can't end without a little bloggin'! I have big news, news that I never thought would thrill me so much until it actually happened...I have FOLLOWERS! You might say, "Well yeah, I know...I'm one of them." If so, thank you! I was a long time in deciding to start this blog (I needed 2 gypsies, one to read my fortune and one to give me a good swift kick in the ass) and it is so satisfying to know that someone gives a rats caboose about what is going on in this abnormally large cranium of mine! I promise I won't let you down.
But I digress, onto the real reason for this post.
As of late, I have been noticing how out of place I feel. In my own town, I feel as if I don't fit. Now let me point out, this has nothing to do with the ski hill. Nor does it have anything to do with the plethora of new and interesting people that have made Revelstoke one of the many stops on their fantastic trip thru life. It seems to me to have more to do with my age... I no longer feel like I belong at those trendy little cafés, with all their young fresh faces, sipping gaily on their grandé, low fat, soy latté, caramel machiatos with the cinnamon shavings. (Starbucks intimidates me, can you tell?) I'm afraid to even walk into one of the many little coffee shops that have popped up for fear one of those hip, young 20-somethings might set off the "interloper" alarm and start yelling "Why are you here, Oldie???" OK, perhaps that's a little extreme, but you get the gist. Even more depressing, I'm only 31. Where do I go from here? I've already decided. I am going to go to one of those dreaded places tomorrow. Not Jus Juiced, though I do feel safe there, it's like my warm blanky of coffee houses. No, I am going to march right into Sanga Bean, order myself something I feel confused about, bust my way through the "fit-ins" and claim my place as fashionably "Yold"*
* Yold = Young + Old...I've decided I'm special and have the authority to create new words!