Old People, the Gossip Edition

Do you ever wonder what others think about your foibles and quirks? We all have them. Those little things we often do without forethought or because we've mimicked a mannerism from someone so far in our pasts that we wouldn't know how to break the habit if we tried. Hair tossing is a common foible for teens and young women these days as is the habit of posing for photos with a hand on an outwardly turned hip. Key the fashion model scouts who might see them on the internet and say, "That's the next Kendall Jenner! Another American Mannequin!" Me with my fatty-fatty-two-by-four stature I pose for photos standing behind someone else. That's one of my foibles and I'm owning it.

I had these thoughts while sucking up coffee at our cafe too early in the morning for me to be up and be social at the same time. I was hiding out from my cleaning woman who causes me to get up with an alarm clock the first Monday of every month. I don't like it but I can't change it; I'm in building one, the first apartment on the first floor and she' cleans on a grid, down one hall and up another. She's a nice young woman of color who will talk your ear off if you give her a chance. I usually give her ten minutes then I excuse myself and walk over to the other building to grab some coffee. 

I was alone when I got to the cafe but soon after five others showed up and sat down at another table but they asked what I was doing there; its rare for me to be out in public in the mornings. When I told them, our resident Trumpette said, "Oh, you don't stay around and watch her like a hawk? I do!" Then she shook her head and laughed, presumably at my perceived nativity. Aside from her politics that often gives me blog fodder I like many things about this woman. She's generous, funny, bold and sure of her self and her convictions. But I do wish she didn't turn a blind eye toward the x-president's lack of a moral compass and his many transgressions. Talk about foibles and quirks. I'd be here all week, glued to my keyboard if I tried to gossip-write about his.

Soon after another woman I like to write about showed up---Ms Social Worker. One of her many quirks is she takes an Uber 3-4 times a week to go to Starbucks for coffee. She's constantly falling---well, not daily but sometimes it seems like it. The fire department always comes pick her off the floor and sometime she gets hauled off to the hospital to check her out. In the 25+ times she's fallen since she moved in she's never broken a bone or broke her skin. Me, I've fallen once and broke several ribs. 

The art professor I fan-girled when I first heard about her living here on the continuum care campus told Ms. Social Worker that doesn't get hurt in her falls because she's got a "marshmallow body." Other times she's told Ms. Social Worker that it's her "body fat" that's protecting her bones. Ms. Social Worker is a little smaller than I am and once I spoke up to say, "I've got more body fat than she does and it doesn't keep me from breaking my bones. I don't even have to fall to break something." Foot, ribs, both elbows and wrists and I worn out both knees and had them replaced. Same with both shoulders. Oh, and I've also broken toes.

Ms. Social Worker now bad-mouths Ms. Art Professor at every opportunity which on one hand I understand but on the other hand it baffles me that she can't let it roll off her back because Ms. Social Worker delighted in offending people on purpose when she first moved in. It didn't take much. Several times she announced at a lunch table that she's an atheist and that's all it took in this faith-based, continuum care community to cause a few people to never talk to her again. One time she said she was going to confront our Director about the way the new pastor here ends her prayers before meetings and special events. Not sure if she followed through but the prayers still includes "in Jesus name." To me, you don't move into a place knowing it's Christian based and try to change it. That's like marrying a man thinking you can change a sloppy mamma's boy into an attentive, well-groomed guy. Never works. Or so I've been told. I never tried. Don could go from grease-monkey yucky to Cowboy Cool to Mr. Hot-Damn all by himself.

Ms. Social Worker is good for entertainment and we're both cut from the same political clothe but what's made me back off from sitting near her lately is a couple of months ago she started wearing a strong perfect that I can smell from ten feet away. She leaves a wake of spicy smelling air in the elevator and where ever she walks. It makes my eyes water and my nose get stuffy and---get this, she's always complaining about her stuffy nose. One of these days the filter in my brain is going to break down and I'll tell her she smells like she just took a whore's bath and I'd not only embarrass her, but also myself and anyone nearby. And don't suggest I pull her aside and tell her she's getting heavy-handed with the perfume because it did come up once at lunch and three or four of us said it was strong and she was shocked that we thought so. But she still wears it thicker than a layer of cake frosting.

As you can see from this post there really is reason to believe that old people lose the filters in our brains that normally would prevent us from saying inappropriate things like telling another woman she's fat or she smells like a whore. According to researchers, though, it's not so much a filter that we lose but rather our brains start to shrink as we age out of life, in particular in the frontal lobes. Sometimes it happens slowly over time and other times, when there is brain damage from a stroke or what is known as frontotemporal dementia, it can come on suddenly. I just hope I can hold on to my 'filter' long enough to document the quirky thing others around me say rather than me being Exhibit #1 on the Lost Filter Chart. Yes, and I'm aware that "documenting the quirky things others say" is just another way of saying I'm turning into a gossip. Lord help me!

Until Next Wednesday.  ©