Saturday, August 29, 2009

THINGS I MISS....

I guess I'm in some weird nostalgia place right now, because the past couple of days things keep popping into my brain that I miss, and I started a list.

Maybe it's the position of the planets, moon phase, or some other cosmic occurrence that is causing these random thoughts; two friends curiously report the same.

Please feel free to add comments with your own things you miss, too!

THINGS I MISS:
  • Cashmere Bouquet and Dier Kiss talcum powders
  • Baskin Robbins English Toffee ice cream (not an ice cream fan, but loved this one!)
  • Prescriptives cosmetics 'Magic' line
  • Reaching a real English speaking person on any phone service call
  • Frito Lay 'Bistro Gourmet' Potato Chips (Best ever)
  • Carnations that actually had that spicy carnation fragrance
  • A long handwritten letter from a friend
  • Woolworth (and other drugstores) Soda Fountains (always the best burgers & fries)
  • The Door County (Wisconsin) of my youth, including: Peninsula State Park camping & Friday night bonfires with whole skinned pine trees in a 'teepee shape; Gill's Rock smoked whitefish; Bailey's drugstore & do-it-yourself sundaes; Cornell's Riding Stable, & 'Uncle Thad," who let us wash dishes for free horseback rides; "Pebble Beach," and skipping pebbles into the water; Hansen's shetland ponies and the Nickelodean collection in the barn; the village of Ephraim
  • Elizabeth Arden's 'Cabriole' perfume, my favorite, ever.
  • Square - and better yet- crinkle-cut french fries when ordering out.
  • $9.95 Oil Change specials
  • Neighborhoods with sidewalks, streetlights, and no fences between neighbors
  • Block parties & potlucks
  • Being in a movie, restaurant, rest room, fitting room, etc., withOUT cell phones ringing & having to endure loud conversations
  • 4th of July firework extravaganzas at almost every park
  • Drive In's: Movies AND restaurants
  • Airline travel that was actually fun! (i.e., no security restrictions, up to 2 free bags (no weight limit) and (hard to believe!) free hot meals!
  • Shiny chrome bumpers and grilles on cars
  • My grandmother's fried chicken
  • TV Series: Dirty Sexy Money; The Gilmore Girls; Once And Again; Reunion; Invasion; Providence
  • Worrying that gas might someday reach (shudder) $2.00!
  • Anticipating the photos you were waiting to be developed
  • Record stores (and listening booths!) And records!
  • Julia Child's live cooking shows
  • The "brrrrrrrrrrring" sound of old phones
  • White soda (a midwest thing)
  • Four distinct seasons
  • "hard roll," butter, and liver sausage sandwiches from my childhood
  • Real butter on movie popcorn (though some small indie theatres still have it)
  • Walking in the woods at Menomonee River Parkway and gathering abundant buttercups and violets to make necklaces and crowns (Where I lived & Parkway location)
  • Actually finding 4-leafed clovers in my own yard
  • The sound of my little girl (now grown) giggling uncontrollably when we had tickle contests
  • Flying homemade kites with my Aunt Sylvia
  • Station wagons with a back-facing third seat.
  • Old friends I have lost track of, but still think of all the time.
  • The Steak n' Shake drive-in (They took your order at your car, served you, & hung a tray on your door)
What can you add? The only rule is you can't add people who have passed that you miss. I would love to hear some of yours!

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Grateful Attitude, Bountiful Life

"The Secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, not to worry about the future, nor to anticipate troubles, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly." - Buddha

I love going to the farmer's market. The Wednesday afternoon market in Santa Cruz is like a flashback to the 70's - a plethora of tie-dyes, dreadlocks, Birkenstocks on dusty-footed hippie types, mixed with the thinkers, the artists and poets. There are homeless or just plain hungry who stand in front of the offered "samples" plates at each booth, spearing one after another cut piece with the same toothpick, though the signs clearly state the practice is unacceptable. The age range is as wide as the social class, but everyone is there to partake of the bounty.

Saturday's market, in Aptos, is a different crowd, a more "white bread" type - or at least few to none are vagrant in appearance. Saturday morning shoppers are generally of a more established social status, with families, children in tow, couples, and many silver-haired, but exceptionally spry, heading down or climbing the hill where the canopied stands cover three full tiers on the fairly steep grade.
There is a wide variety of offerings: fruits, nuts, vegetables, fresh local eggs, orchids, herbs, cut flowers and outdoor plants. Welcomed hot coffee stands, oysters and fish, fresh roasted corn on the cob, local applewood smoked ham and bacon are favorites, as are baked goods from two friendly competitors. Pottery, hemp bags and motley assorted other goods one wouldn't expect at a farmer's market are found. A van that says "The Peace Mobile," with a woman holding a sign that reads "Hands of friendship to Cuba" is parked next to "The Farmer's Market String Band," playing very non-Latin, but rousing Cajun Zydeco. One can always find at least one petition to be reviewed, local mountain honey, and the mushroom man, with an array of the ordinary to extraordinary fungi. It is, simply put, an aphrodisiac to all one's senses.

Today I have parked at the top of the hill, and walked down, instead of my usual opposite routine. I realize the error of my judgment, as I climb the path with heavy tomatoes, melons, sweet corn, and my weekly purchase of individual quiches Normandy, from Sweet Elena's Bakery. A bag seems about to lose it's flimsy plastic handles, so I stop and sit briefly on a rough log bench on the top of the hill under a stately old conifer, where two very loud and very angry squirrels are in the midst of a disagreement.

As I attempt to adjust and reallocate my purchases, I notice a very elderly woman making her way up the long inclined path in my direction. She is carrying cellophane bags with 3 orchid plants in one hand, and a large overflowing basket in the other. The hand grasping the orchid plants is also resting on a gnarled walking stick that she is using to help pull her up the grade.

I am contemplating offering help, alternating with a little voice that tells me no, she does this every week. She wants to do it herself. As my inward debate continues, a Santa Claus bearded man with a bald head on top, save thin side and back-of-the-head hair coaxed into a very skinny four-inch ponytail overtakes her, momentarily exchanging pleasantries, a laugh, and a quick pat on her shoulder. He is bent at the waist, in at least a thirty degree angle. He has a backpack full of his purchases, about three huge bunches of cut sunflowers in one arm, and a large arthritic dog as old as he is on a leash. A lady going down the hill in front of him drops her keys, and he immediately stoops the rest of the way to pick them up, handing them over with a smile and a, "Here you go! Beautiful day!" greeting.

It is, in fact, cold and gray with drizzly fog.

The woman with the walking stick arrives at my bench and I quickly scoot over, imagining she will rest for a bit . She doesn't. Instead, she smiles brightly and cheerfully calls over, "No thanks, honey. If I sit down I might never get up again!" and continues to the parking lot.

As I arise from the bench behind her, two teenagers are passing abreast of each other, and one bumps into me, offering no apology, but rather continuing a rant about too much work around the house and being tired, while his companion, apparently not listening, is saying, "Dude. They didn't even play a twenty minute set last night. Shit, man, that's seriously top of my diss list..."

A pine cone falls, hitting my head, and I look up to see my squirrel friends. They have apparently called a truce and they are close to each other on the same branch. As one squirrel scurries up the branch, the other, which I now see has only 3 legs, ambles gingerly behind him.

I turned another year older the day before yesterday. Though I'm not thrilled to see the years now passing at warp speed, I am grateful that I am aware that they do. Whenever I need a gratitude check, God and the universe speak to me, and to us all. One only needs to listen. The voice is loud and clear, and never wrong. It says one word: "attitude." It is up to each of us to turn that word into "gratitude" by remembering every single day how very much we have to be grateful for.

I like to remember it as once being just an "attitude," fused with "great" and "grateful" (GR)

GRateful +Attitude = Gratitude

It is a beautiful day, as the bent man called out a few moments earlier. A perfect day.