Middle aged musings from farm & hearth
She was twelve years old. By rottweiler standards that’s a long life. We were wondering how she’d take the move to This Old House. Last night we had to make the decision to end her struggle with a tumor in her spleen which kept rupturing and rendering her weaker with each episode. Our vet explained her deteriorating condition and gave us time with her. She passed peacefully in my arms ….but how I hate those moments. How I hate having to make those choices.
See, this is where our differences kinda make for a humorous situation. *sigh* We need a new mattress. Our old one, a king, has hills and valleys probably where we do…. and it’s time.
This is my husband’s idea of comfort.
And this is mine…
So we went mattress shopping today. I got there before him, so I explained our issues to the saleswoman and she gave me a tour of the five mattresses she thought we could make work. One mattress was too soft, one of those temperpedic things… and I swear I was getting seasick laying in it. Something about that slow molding memory action makes me feel like I’ve got a hangover. Then there was the sheet of plywood very firm mattress, which made my shoulders and neck hurt instantly when I rolled on my side, which is how I sleep. I knew that would be the one for Mike. There was a mattress that felt heavenly, but it cost just about $5,000… and that’s plain ridiculous. There was a middle of the road, however, and I hoped I’de be able to talk him into it. It actually has some of that memory foam on the top of it, but not enough to suck you in.
Mike arrived and of course liked the plywood rendition, kept going back to it infact, but the middle of the road version appealed to him too… and so that’s what we bought.
Hmmm… we arrived at a compromise quickly and with ease. Could this be the beginning of a new era?
Don’t bed on it 🙂
HISTORY: Coke was invented in 1886 by Doctor John Pemberton, a pharmacist from Atlanta, Georgia. He concocted the Coca Cola formula in a three legged brass kettle in his backyard. The name was a suggestion given by John Pemberton’s bookkeeper Frank Robinson. Frank Robinson also had excellent penmanship. It was he who first scripted “Coca Cola” into the flowing letters which has become the famous logo of today.
Coca -Cola was first sold to the public at the soda fountain in Jacob’s Pharmacy in Atlanta. Until 1905, the soft drink, marketed as a tonic, contained extracts of cocaine as well as the caffeine-rich kola nut. In 1887, another Atlanta pharmacist and businessman, Asa Candler bought the formula for Coca Cola from inventor John Pemberton for $2,300. By the late 1890s, Coca Cola was one of America’s most popular fountain drinks, largely due to Candler’s aggressive marketing of the product. With Asa Candler, now at the helm, the Coca Cola Company increased syrup sales by over 4000% between 1890 and 1900.
That’s nuts. But you know what? To this day, I still have Coke in the house for whenever someone’s got a sour stomach. The bottom line is, even though it’s loaded with sugar and there is no nutritional value… it still really works as a tonic. This morning I went to Target for cleaning supplies and really unnecessary stuff for This Old House. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the logo…
This is why I love Target… $12.99 and you, too, can have a vintage Coca Cola Tee. I’de like to submit this photo to Snappy Di, who periodically posts “What Boomers Are Wearing” pics… Diane, I’m ALMOST a boomer, just two years shy of it..and this is what I wear almost always. A tee and worn jeans. These have rips and frays, much to my delight and my husband’s chagrin.
As for the concept of being brand-faithful, my grandmother had something. You can still find Coke, Ivory Soap, Jean Nate and Laughing Cow Cheese in your grocery story. I’ll admit I went to the other side for a while, but I eventually came back to Coca Cola.
Although it hasn’t done for ME what it apparently does for HER…..
A bunch of us were goofing off gathered at the shop recently and somehow we got to talking about beds, and which side of the bed we sleep on and why. One of us (you know who you are) said “I don’t have a side. We just fall asleep on whatever random side of the bed we end up on that night.” I’m sure the collective GASP was audible at the hardware store up the road. NO SIDE?
I don’t know about you, but I gotta have my side. The right side if you’re facing the bed. And there’s a reason! I sleep on my left side, facing out. I need air. As much as cuddling is good and great and necessary, I need my air, free and clear of his – because if I’m facing him he sucks all the air out of my space. If I’m sleeping alone when away on a trip? I’m still on my side of the bed, can’t seem to bring myself to use the whole space and sleep in the middle.
Another member of our group sleeps in a full size bed with her husband, always has. (as in twin, full, queen, king). Another collective GASP. They are average sized people and they have a very happy marriage (apparently!) and they are perfectly happy to be every-inch-up-against-each-other when they sleep. Awesome! But… what about the air?
I also like to have a window nearby, preferably open. If we’re on vacation in a motel room or staying at someone’s house and my usual side of the bed is up against a solid wall, it isn’t gonna work.
The bedding here looks so luxurious and comfortable…
So… what side are YOU on?
We live in such a great area for walking, hiking, and biking. Today I took Ben down to the beach to meet up with my sister and her friend for a walk along the bike trail. The beachroses were in full bloom and the scent was heavenly.
Wherever you hang your hat, whether it’s a condo, apartment, house or tiki hut… it’s a space you call your own. When you’ve had a bad day or you’re feeling less than stellar, where would you most like to be? Probably curled up on the couch or in your favorite reading chair or under the covers in your bed… in your sanctuary.. your home.
So can you imagine what it’s like if at the worst time in your life, when the chips are down and you’re most alone, there is no home. No sanctuary, no place to hang that hat…. if you own one.
Tonight I tagged along with my new neighbor, Carol, and her church group. On the last Tuesday evening of every month they come together at the Congregational Church kitchen and make a delicious hot meal using old family recipes. The food is then loaded into cars and taken to a nearby homeless shelter, where they serve approximately 40 people.
I wanted to take them all home, especially the older gentleman who looked to be around 80 and in poor health. He was so grateful for that meal and a pleasure to talk to..and I thought how does it come to this… why isn’t there a better solution for this man.? There were also young men and women, all of whom look haunted. I don’t know their stories, but their pain is clear. And so is their need… our need… to take better care of those who have not been so blessed.
Thankfully there are people like those I met tonight in the church kitchen. I plan to join them on their next Midnight Run, a drive to the New Haven green and occasionally NYC to deliver blankets, food and toiletries to the homeless. As I sit here typing out this post with all I need a stone’s throw away I realize it’s the least I can do, and I hope I remember to appreciate all that is good. Every. Single. Day.
I’ve been walking this walk for about 15 years. It’s a simple country road and usually my mind is in high gear as I walk or jog along… the worries of the day, problems that need solutions, planning the day ahead, fretting over what I need to get done or shouldn’t have done, said or didn’t say. Yesterday I tried not to do that, because I’ve realized I never give myself a break from it. Being “in the moment” doesn’t come easy to me but change is always possible.
It’s easy to be absorbed in the problems of the day and lose sight of what’s right in front of us to enjoy, in that very moment. Here’s to just “being”….
