The husband tends to worry less about such things and has little empathy for my struggle with decision-making. He usually finds foods and brands and menu items he likes and sticks with them--the gyros platter in Greek town, the whopper at Burger King, the burger and mashed potatoes at Houlihans, and the Samuel Adams Boston Lager at the brewpub, for example. And he usually wears the first thing he sees that is hanging conveniently on his closet door. I think of his approach as boring or even lazy. He thinks of it as sensible and efficient.
It is much easier being a man, of course. Think short hair. No curling irons. Usually no hair coloring. No eye shadow or nail polish color decisions--unless, of course, you are a trans man. Many men today are involved in the decorating decisions and menu planning and that has totally changed in my lifetime. And men's wardrobe choices and color options have likewise expanded.
The husband has taken to almost always wearing black pants and black shoes. One of his academic colleagues wears black pants exclusively, paired with a white dress shirt. I knew a home-office architect who had a uniform, too: designer jeans and a white broadcloth button down. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I actually envy such simplicity.
I am old enough to remember the days of one pair of brown shoes for school. I never had to wear bread bags over my shoes, thankfully, so I must have also had boots.
My Dad's summer "uniform" on the farm was a pair of jeans, boots and a "straw" hat. I'm not sure if he wore briefs in the summer!
"Consider the lilies of the field"--that familiar verse from Matthew 6:28 suggests we should worry less about what we put on. In spite of the admonition to not worry, I think that the decisions we make concerning what we put on our bodies and what we put in our bodies remains a big part of life for most of us. Often a fun part. And we have that luxury.
A monk in a monastery, for instance, would be freed to do other things, it seems, since he has meals provided and his wardrobe choices are super simple. (Has anyone wondered what they wear under those garments? If the robes are made of wool, I could not be a monk). One of the things the monks in Belgium have learned to do well in their spare time is to brew good beer! I learned last year that there are 12 licensed monastery breweries in the country, while neighboring Holland has only one.
If you are old enough to reflect back far enough, do you ever get nostalgic for the days when life seemed simpler? Or was it? Are you old enough that you had to bake your own bread and churn your own butter after milking your own cow?
I was reminded of all this, believe it or not, when the husband came home with a bottle of Salty Caramel Apple Vodka. I love many salted caramel things--like Haagen Dazs salted caramel gelato--but it is ridiculous that so many products now have a salted caramel version. A root beer drink I tried once was undrinkable. Not everything can be successfully caramelized! Which reminds me of the popularity of caramelized onions. We are supposed to drool over a cheeseburger smothered in caramelized onions. Onions are not for me. But anything that weds caramel to nuts and chocolate is a winner, especially over ice cream and/or brownies.
But really, isn't this obsession with alternative flavors, especially in beverages like coffee, tea, beer, and even whiskey and vodka getting a little obscene?
I spent all last year (for better or for worse!) exploring craft beer. Now I am thinking about searching for the ultimate coffee (my last safe drug), but not so much the flavored coffees such as Maple Bacon Morning (which I am actually drinking right now)! Rather, I hope to try coffee from different mountain regions of South American, light roasts and dark roasts, and which coffee pot or Keurig or french press or pouring method provides the best brew to suit my taste. Coffee crafting is on the increase, with more and more bottled versions available. I hear that in NYC you can get coffee on tap, with nitro! Pretty crazy.
So what to do? Shall I embrace the seemingly unending choices we have today. Or protest, determining to stick with the tried and true that satisfies, without lusting after the one more thing that might be even better, Should I develop a stronger sense of "good enough" that would dictate that I only buy Colombian Peaks Eight o'Clock beans, Seagram's lime gin, and Coke Zero for the rest of my life?
Bigelow has a black tea with vanilla and caramel that I have been drinking this week. I really like it! My exploration occasionally leads me to some winners!
I have finally arrived at a Caesar dressing that suits me--a combo of two, store bought: Litehouse Caesar Caesar from the refrigerated section, made a little less thick with a splash of of Ken's Lite Caesar or a little cream, or both.
And I have very recently found a perfect new cheese--a gouda/parm combo--very pricey, but to die for. There are hundreds of cheeses I have never tried and I could be missing out on 20 more years of cheesy bliss.
If and when I find better answers, I will probably be a happier person. If I get old and lose my tasting ability, much of this will be solved. I only hope my appetite decreases with age!
If and when I ever achieve my private (no window coverings needed!) country estate dream, with a large organic garden, a few horses (for garden manure), along with a couple of grass-fed cows for milk and beef, and free-range chickens (fenced in) for fresh daily eggs, I will also be wearing my denim blue Mom jeans with a simple white top, along with some garden clogs; and I will be ordering my helper (Hank) to milk the cow and feed the chickens. I will pick a few green beans or edible pod peas for dinner, to enjoy with one of my fat chickens.
Oh, I forgot--there will of course be a few pet peacocks, just for their beauty, and a couple of farm dogs that can join Hank inside for the winter months!
And then I'll sit in the shade near the rippling brook that meanders through my property, seated on a teak rocker with a cushy pad, sipping some plain chilled vodka (or that lime gin) or maybe some cold, filtered well water from deep down in the earth and I will lean back, close my eyes and sigh, aaaaahhh.
Back to a simpler time ... but always, with my smart phone tucked into my shirt pocket, close to my heart.
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| I haven't opened or tasted it yet! |
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