This morning, my neighbor, Rosa, was out fussing around on her porch, getting ready for summer, and all of us who sit there in the mornings to drink our coffee, and say the same things we did the day before.  Her daughter, Elena, and her angelic-looking granddaugher, Rose, were visiting.  I asked Elena how her Easter had been.

"Oh, fine, fine...I’m so poor, though, that I had to dye one egg, and just keep hiding it over and over again...."  She was kidding, of course, but that cracked me up.  "She’s only four!  What does she know?"

"Rosa, I came over because I’m baking bread again tomorrow, and I wanted to know if you’d like a loaf or two."  Rosa looked at me like I had just asked her if I could poke her in the eyes with a pointy stick.

"That’s all I need.  MORE fat."  She shook a towel at me.  "It’s people like you who make it so hard for me to lose weight!"  She drew herself up to her full height (about five feet nothing) and frowned at me.

"Oh, for heavens’ sake, Rosa - let yourself go a little.  You’ve been eating rice cakes and drinking diet soda for the four years I’ve known you, and you look exactly the same as the day we met.  You’re healthy - who cares if you’re a little fluffy as well?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, of course, I want a loaf of fresh-baked bread...I’ll get that faster than I’ll get the butt I had when I was twenty, I guess."

Yes, that’s how it goes...but I’m glad I can eat a slice of fresh bread just slathered in butter and jam without worrying if I can skinny into a pair of tight jeans anymore.  The train keeps on running - there’s just a bit more caboose, that’s all!