“He is oldish,” said my Argentine pal of more than three decades last night at a family dinner in Buenos Aires, referring to his cousin’s husband.
Oldish. A great word! Are you oldish?
It’s oldish, said Daniel Mazar Barnett, to think you’re a boomer when you were born before 1945, as he and I were. He added: “It’s oldish for Maia to think she’s a Millennial.” (His daughter is one.)
It’s not oldish for son, Alex, to take off some video-editing time to go to New Zealand on a work/tourist visa and pick kiwis or wash dishes.
It is oldish to think you’re flying to Switzerland to meet your fianceé on Friday and she reminds you that you arrive there on Friday and are leaving on Thursday. It’s more oldishly disconcerting to actually arrive for takeoff at the arrival time because you didn’t have a fiancé to remind you to get to the airport on time. But that’s another story.