And at my age, too!
Trixie is fond of telling me all about what her daughter is up to, where she lives ("That's my daughter's house," she'll say as we walk by a very nice brownstone. I hope we can visit her.), what she drives (her taste runs to shiny red cars), or that "SHE has a "RED-handle cup!" My granddaughter's name is, apparently, "Fony" -- or perhaps it's spelled "Phoney" and I am being old-fashioned with my spelling.
I should also mention that Trixie tells me about her "DAWE-tuh" in the thickest, most Lorraine-Bracco-like Brooklyn accent imaginable. SHe didn't get it from me; though I have been living here for close to 17 years now, I like to think my varied upbringing and the mishmash of accents acquired thereby are still triumphant over any dropped Rs and guttural "awe" sounds. And her Daddy's LI accent is a) slightly different and b) less pronounced than it was.
Trixie and Fony had a good time today playing with chalk at the playground. Apparently, Fony is tired now, and needs to go to sleep. Amen, says I.