From her home in New Mexico, Baba continues to navigate the unpredictable currents of old age with her usual ironic sense of humor. She is renting an apartment in a Victorian house where the heating and plumbing challenge her and her landlord... Her three daughters and her grandchildren live in Oregon, Indiana, and Pennsylvania, so she must tackle airline regulations if she visits. Damp and cold weather set off arthritis in her knees and spine, but she seldom babies herself to get where she is going. When she is not playing bridge or doing crossword puzzles, she contemplates decorated sweatshirts, her pleasures and displeasures gambling in Las Vegas, the laws of physics pertaining to clogged drains, plastic and pills to enhance sexual prowess, meerkats, cell phones, the ignorance of American tourists in the beautiful Alaskan wilderness, zombies and aliens, and teenage ego-centricity. She avoids the health police whenever she can but still manages to give up smoking.
