As I listen to these old ladies next to me at the pool in Boca discuss plastic surgery (“You should SEE her nose now, she went from ogre to belle of the ball”), early bedtimes (“Irving can’t even stay up past the evening news, forget the late show!”) and 5:00 dinner reservations (“I wanted to do 6:00 but Estelle said too late, she’ll get indigestion”), I can’t help but shake my head in dismay.

At the fact that I don’t live here. This is my mothership.