Your grandmother is so old...

Your grandmother is so old, that her 26-year-old grandson moved in with her so she could keep living in her house.

Wait... That's a terribly joke.

Why would you say that, Phil? You're a really crappy comedian.

Ah, you're right; I am a terrible comedian, but I am a great grandson and I have two really great grandmothers.

I moved in with Baba (mother's mother; remember that name, she'll be a recurring character) and I live less than 10 miles from my Dad's mother, Grandma, here in the greater Philadelphia area.

I haven't done a piece here in three months, and in that time a lot has happened.

I finished my time in Boulder, at VeloNews. In that last month I really soured toward Boulder. I rode a ton (30 hours in about seven days, averaging 10,000 feet of climbing five of those days). I was fried from riding and unimpressed with Boulder, as a possible place to put down roots.

I realized the relative importance of competitive cycling reporting in the overall hierarchy of journalism; we'll put it that way...

I realized how much I love the East Coast (that's right, both capitalized!), family and manufacturing. Boulder seemed to have very few things grounding it to a way of life that I find important. There's no industry there, beyond computer programming and other service-sector jobs. Had I desired to be a professional waiter, or dedicate ANOTHER four years to law school Boulder would be a great place to live.

When I describe my time out there I always make sure to say that I would go back to Boulder, or another place in Colorado, to vacation. A cycling or hiking vacation would be fantastic, when I have enough money to fly there, stay in a nice hotel, eat in nice restaurants, and fly back to civilization (East Coast).

But, to make a living out there for a liberal arts major in the manufacturing field, Boulder was not the place.

So, Southeastern Pennsylvania here I came. (That's what I said at the time, but now it's in the past, so you'll have to forgive the butchered verb tense.)

Baba needed and needs help to stay in her house. It's as much home for me as my childhood home in Newmarket is since we spent months at a stretch here in the summer.

It's also something of Baba's ancestral homeland. The four or so acres she has left, after selling about 35 acres to a developer with great apprehension, was a her and my grandfather's wedding present in 1952 (Fact Check). She has lived all but six years of her live on this land, and I think the last thing she would want would be to leave this land and house for an apartment in assisted living home.

As I was leaving Colorado, I spoke with a friend of a friend about my plans to live with Baba. He said he was the primary caregiver to two elderly relatives and it gave him a wonderful new perspective about life, aging and caring for others.

Therefore, as I started this blog to chronicle my adventures in Italy, I shall now try to convey the nuggets of wisdom and insight that I have gained and will gain from living with my grandmother, Baba.

That brings you up to speed.

Now buckle up and enjoy the motorized shopping cart ride through the next phase of my life.