Eye Of The Tiger

My husband and I are moving to Philadelphia. We just didn't think the air quality was poor enough in New Haven. We've already spent a day apartment hunting with only a mild amount of sulking on my part, mostly alleviated by sushi and gelato. I mean, you'd think a town known for using massive amounts of Cheez Whiz would naturally be a good fit for me, but I have my reservations. We explored neighborhoods, looked at six apartments and even met a dog that is an exact replica of Truffles if she were really fat and old. We decided on an area commonly referred to as the "Gayborhood" because we feel it's a good place to raise a small dog. I mentioned to a Philly native that I assumed all water fountains in Philly squirted out Cheez Whiz because everyone is always eating a cheesesteak sandwich and was promptly told lesson #1 about Philly is that it's not called a cheesesteak sandwich, just a cheesesteak. I have so much to learn.

Yesterday was my last day at one of the weirdest jobs I've ever had: working with the elderly. I'm going to miss them, and one in particular who I'd been with for 13 months. Over those months, we played a lot of UNO, her favorite card game, which she cheated at like a Wall Street banker with your retirement savings. She'd hide wild cards under her MUMU dress and say things like "did I drop that?" Sometimes I'd let it slide thinking meh, you're in your 70s and if this is what you enjoy, ok. However, at other times I'd be feeling a little competitive and I'd make her stick to the rules so I could win a few hands. I'll miss chasing after her easy-go MartKart at the grocery store trying to toss in bottles of barbecue sauce while she zipped corners at top speed and toppled pastry displays.

I had one lady who would consistently answer the door with no pants on and say things like "God, aren't you ever late?"

I also had a lot of crazies - usually I wasn't with them very long because they'd accuse me of things like trying to steal their dog or their husband's ashes because I was in love with his memory. . . that sort of thing.

I love old people the way most people say they love children and they're a child at heart because at heart, I am an 80-year-old woman. I'm so good at complaining, you'd think I'd been doing it for 79 years. I'm frugal like someone living on social security and continue to cut my own hair and reuse ziploc bags.

Final note: Google sometimes tells me how some people end up on my blog and the search terms that they've used and most recently, a visitor to Anonyblog ended up here by using the search phrase "how to make love on a toilet seat." So I'm expanding my use of search words.