So I'm finding myself becoming increasingly attracted to older women. And by "older" I don't mean a few years older. I mean older, as in: Remembers a time when refrigerators didn't keep ice cold but vice versa. Or could possibly have went to the opening night of any number of the b&w films in my dvd collection.

Let's face it, they have more to offer me than most women my age. Not only can we clothes swap ("Do you mind if I wear your green cardigan tonight, dear?") but we can drink our meals (a longtime dream of mine) and I can toss vintage slang words into everyday conversation without feeling conspicious ("Dinner was boss, daddy-o"). Not only that, but the expiration date on our relationship really involves expiring. The problem with ex-girlfriends fleeing the country is that they can always come back. The great thing about ex-girlfriends fleeing life is that they can't ever email you out of the blue telling you all about their current happy relationship in some far off tropical land.

I guess what has me thinking about getting older lately is the oncoming death of my own grandmother. She's currently in the hospital after some liquid was found around her heart that shouldn't be there. I'm not quite sure just what kind of liquid it was, but for some reason I like to think it's chocolate.

I've never really been all that close to most of my extended family, so it feels strange to be suddenly pressured into playing the role of the grandson, something I must admit to being pretty rusty at. But leave it up to my mother to put it into perspective:

"You're coming to Bridgewater on Sunday whether you want to or not. She's your grandmother, for Christ's sake! Besides, do you want your cousins to get everything in the will?"