I was talking with my sister-in-law, Amy, the other day. We talk every couple of weeks, catching up on the latest of who's doing what, getting family updates, yada yada yada.

We found ourselves discussing the price of groceries, and why it seems that we spend more and more each week. (Eli is my excuse, that kid is eating like a horse these days- well a pony anyway). So, we're lamenting the price of milk, and we figure there must be a cow shortage, because the price is outlandish. Maybe because of the war, we don't know. Laugh, laugh, laugh.

Okay, so a little more of that, and we hang up, promising to call again in a few weeks.

Later, I'm thinking of this conversation, and it hits me. I'VE LOST ALL SEMBLANCE OF COOL.

Waah.

Nine years ago, Amy and I wouldn't have dreamed of talking for an hour and a half about something so mundane. We'd have been planning our night, coordinating with a dozen friends, wearing berets and carrying wallets with menacing chains swinging at our hips. We'd be laughing and dancing and drinking daiquiries that we didn't pay for. Maybe we'd have glitter on our faces and it would sparkle in the sunrise we'd stayed out all night to see.

We definitely wouldn't be talking about the price of milk.

And it's not an isolated incident. I distinctly remember a recent call in which we discussed, at length, what cheap brand of diapers is the best. (Luvs has my vote, by the way. Whitecloud never holds- an ugly lesson to learn.)

What has become of me? There's no hope, is there? Because by the time I actually have the schedule and the money to become cool again, it's going to be a midlife crisis, isn't it?

Shoot.

All that, AND the price of milk.