At 50 an Old Jewish Woman Arises

I just need a bowl of soup.  Chicken soup with broth.  Kosher chicken.  Kosher broth.  And a shawl, parasol and poodle.  Oh, wait, I've already got the poodle.  So, yeah, this will be easier than I had thought.  I just need a shawl and parasol.  And then I can be the old Jewish woman that I think I'm becoming.  Mouthy, opinionated and wanting to stay within my comfort zone. 

In spite of thinking that I harbor an adventurous spirit, the older I get, I'm not so sure.  I'd like to think that I'm the backpacking type.  The kind that could travel through Europe with just me, a backpack, and a crapload of Euros.  That's a lot of Euros, in case you're wondering.  My alter ego would like to be open to sleeping in hostels instead of fancy 2 1/2 star hotels with thin towels and coffee stains on the drapes.  I'd like to believe that I'm open minded and up for anything.  Available.  Looking for new opportunities and chances to take.  But I'm not so sure. 

Chatting over Indian food with a good friend last night, this topic of conversation came up.  I'm not sure how it turned to me but it did.  I don't know if it's age.  Or even my job.  The more I fly, the more I want to be home.  Settled.  Comfortable.  I like a schedule and routine.  I want to do tasks one time.  Not two.  Doing things right the first time.  I'd like to think that I'm flexible and always say "Yes" to change and whatever others ask of me. 

But the truth is that I think I'm quite the opposite.  Or am I?  I'm not sure.  Who knows.  Is it a middle-age sort of quandary?  I find that being flexible and willing to negotiate or do things that I don't want to do is getting harder and harder.  I'd be more than happy with my iPad, a recliner, and my coffee.  Oh, and the poodle.