It was on this swing that the elderly women sat one Monday morning in early July, side by side, staring down through wire-framed glasses at respective needlework projects held in their bony hands. Beyond the age of excess weight, no matter how much they ate, their thin frames were, as usual, draped in dresses. Creased faces did not resemble one another. Maxcine's fluffy, collar-length, silver-gray hair showed plastic curler indentations, while Isabel's straight, shoulder-length locks had obviously been dyed brunette. Both of them had plush animal slippers on their feet; pairs of pink pigs and brown bears, traded one for one, worn unmatched. This was possible because the sisters weren't particularly picky about fit. Sixty-eight year old Maxi was five-foot, five-inches in height, an inch taller than sixty year old Izzy, her tootsies a good deal wider.

As humans are prone to do on the downhill slide of life, their personalities had altered. But then, so had everything else about them. Yes, the bubbling exuberance of youth had been replaced by sedate 'oldth'. Innocence was long gone, superseded by experience. Cranky substituted patience. Humorous streaks remained intact

Vol II - Down & Dirty

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