Retirees’ Uses for Duct Tape and WD40

We’re all familiar with that old saw: use duct tape for things that are supposed to stick together, but won’t; use WD40 for things aren’t supposed to stick together, but do. This is one of the great truisms of life. As my retirement time accumulates, so do my uses for these awesome products.

You may have noticed that I complain about the goat hairs on my chin. Now I also have duck fuzz that’s looking increasingly like sideburns. None of this is hair that I celebrate. I’m uneasy about those waxing strips you see on late-night TV. Older skin is more sensitive to temperature extremes. Plus that wax stuff would eat into my wine budget. I decided to try duct tape to remove my unwanted hair. It was cost effective and it lived up to its reputation.

Here are some tips I developed after doing this several times. Fold over the end of the duct tape about ¼ inch before you stick it to your face. It makes it easier to grab when you pull it off. If it’s humid when you do your toilette, first open the door of your freezer and stick your head in for a few minutes. It will cool you down so you don’t perspire. Ice cubes won’t work, because they leave your skin damp, preventing the tape from adhering.

Do you slip more often on your non-carpeted stairs now that you’re of a certain age? Cut strips of duct tape about 6 inches long and form loops, sticky side out. Place these on your steps where the ball of your foot usually lands. You may need to make a test run, to find the best placement. Now when you go up and down, the duct tape will grip your foot or shoes (or especially socks!) just enough to slow you down so you can keep your balance. Replenish tape as it gets fuzzy.

WD40 can also make your life easier. Do you have difficulty getting your street shoes on? Stop exerting yourself! Don’t risk a heart attack. Spray the inside of the shoe, especially the heel area, with WD40. Also spray your feet, whether you’re wearing socks or not. You’ll glide in like butter. For maximum benefit, do one shoe and one foot at a time. Make a note: if you have heart issues, the cost of the WD40 may qualify for a medical deduction.

Ladies, in swim season, WD40 will be your new best friend when it comes to the on-and-off process of swimwear. (Think pool and beach restrooms…) Spray your outer thighs, hips, butt cheeks and belly with a liberal amount. Your suit will slip on and off like silk. This also works for Spanx at any time of year. WD40 comes in a purse-size container that I’m sure was made just for this purpose.

Here’s a slightly more complicated use for duct tape. If you’re at all sensitive about your private parts, skip the next two paragraphs. If you’re not terribly good with engineering, you might want to refer to the schematic provided.

Older men often have difficulty keeping the boys tucked in where they belong. Duct tape to the rescue! Cut a piece about ten inches long and another about four inches. Place the four-inch piece in the center of the ten-inch one, tacky sides together. This provides a sling for the guys that won’t stick to them. Carefully cradle them in the center of the tape and lift them to where you want them. Press the sticky side of the three-inch long end pieces against your groin area. You might want to shave first.

Older women have a similar problem keeping their girls perky. Make two slings similar to the one described above for men. If your cup runneth over, you may need longer pieces of tape (and a longer sling area). Just be sure to allow three sticky inches on each end.

Here are more uses for WD40 that you’ve probably never considered. Having trouble lately turning the pages of books you’re reading because the paper sticks together? Do bill stubs refuse to go into the envelopes provided to mail the payment? Spray them with WD40, but don’t overspray. Let them dry a bit, then turn the pages of the book with ease, or slide the stub into the envelope without having to tear it apart.

Have you noticed that adding fabric softener to the wash is just one more thing you’re forgetting these days? Too much static on things coming out of the dryer? Spray the legs of your polyester pants (or other non-silk garments) with WD40 and your sausage-cling problems are over.

Duct tape and WD40: Miracle tools for people of all ages. Just think outside the box. Or can. And off the roll.

Bamboo Is the New Flax

About twenty years ago, flax became extremely popular, especially compared to another natural fiber, hemp. Since you can’t smoke flax, other uses had to be found for this plant. Flax became a leading fiber of choice for clothing, thanks largely to the eponymous brand. It also showed up in soft goods for the household and in other items of décor.

Now we’re in a new millennium, a new century, and two decades beyond flax. I’ve discovered that bamboo is the new flax. I cannot believe what items are touted as being made from bamboo. I would expect to see it in housewares and décor—in things like baskets and placemats, and tiki lights and wind chimes. Can you believe there are companies selling sink backsplashes made from bamboo? Wouldn’t they get mildewed when wet?

Worse, I think of bamboo as a product that is brittle and throws off splinters easily. That quality has made me sit up and take notice at some of the products I uncovered. Cutting boards and salad bowls, while not totally outrageous on their face, would have me worried about using ones made from bamboo. If I find fiber in my salad, I want to have put it there.

But what really made me stop dead in my mental tracks was an ad in a recent Tuesday Morning flier for bamboo sheets. Yes, sheets. Would you roll around on sheets made from a product that sheds sharp little pieces of itself? I don’t care how fine the “thread count” is; you won’t find me buying bamboo bedding. No way. No how.

Bamboo is showing up outside of home goods, too, but some of those uses are not that surprising. Bamboo bicycles must be very light and easy to pedal around town. Sunglasses and yoga mats don’t seem like a stretch, though leggings might be. The names of some of the companies selling this stuff are noteworthy, too. There’s Bambooki and Boo Bamboo and BumBoosa, for instance. (More on that last one later.)

Electronics accessories is an area that seems to be one of the post popular uses. There are bamboo laptop cases, USB flash drives, PC keyboards and mice. Impecca makes a hand-carved designer bamboo mouse that’s available in cherry, walnut, espresso or natural colors. You can choose from 23 different IPhone cases that SigniCASE offers in bamboo.

I can see that none of this has you itching and scratching. Well, how about this: bamboo hair and beauty products, like the Bamboo Charcoal Face & Body Soap Bar. Or the revitalizing hair conditioning treatment. Or the products for eyelashes and eyebrows. I’m clumsy enough trying to put on mascara. I wouldn’t want to have to worry about splinters in my eyes, too.

Still not skeeved out by any of these products? Here’s my absolute favorite bamboo items you can now buy from BumBoosa. Diaper liners, baby wipes and toilet paper rolls (individually wrapped—zero plastic!) These are guaranteed bio-friendly products. The baby wipes are even award winning. Non-synthetic and “tree-free.” Users of the TP describe it as “eco-luxurious.” BumBoosa claims it’s “processed using the thermo-mechanical pulping method.” Who can resist whatever that is?

I’ll tell you who: I can. I’m sure I’m just showing my own ignorance. Toilet paper comes from trees after all. Or maybe I’m just too set in my ways, now that I’m retired. It doesn’t matter what I think anyway. The rest of the country seems to be hopping on the bamboo bandwagon.

Suddenly I have a vision: Procter and Gamble decides to switch their sourcing for Charmin to bamboo. Those commercials we see everywhere with the blue cartoon bears cleaning their bums? Gone. The new ones feature pandas. Chewing on bamboo shoots on one end, wiping their tushies with bamboo TP on the other. Is this a great country, or what?

The Search for Exclusivity

I read somewhere (probably in Ad Age) that the makers of Grey Poupon mustard screen people who want to friend them on Facebook. If you don’t cut the mustard (sorry, couldn’t help myself), they ignore you. Apparently it’s all part of their marketing strategy to position themselves as the mustard for the upper crust. (Again, sorry.)

This gave me an idea. What if I announced that I’m screening people who want to follow my blog? Although quite a few of you read the blog, only a handful signed on as followers. Perhaps if I became more exclusive, it would give me cachet. Cachet usually leads to a following.

This seemed like a good plan, until I started thinking about how I would screen folks. I took a closer look at Grey Poupon, expecting it to become my paragon for screening. Here’s what I uncovered on their Facebook page.

GREY POUPON was founded in 1777 and… is generally regarded as the classiest condiment in the world. Their page had 64,309 “likes.” There was no apparent screening mechanism. Perhaps the Ad Age article drew so much attention they couldn’t handle the volume, so they opened the floodgates and let everybody in.

The “General Information” link gave a soupçon of this. Their “Rules of the Road” has four paragraphs and five bullet points wherein they: “…tip our hats to those who create a civilized community… where fans can share their passion for GREY POUPON mustard…” And so on, including legalese about giving them the unrestricted right to use whatever you post.

The final paragraph states: “For existing fans: if you do not wish to be a fan of the official GREY POUPON page… please feel free to “unlike” our page.” “Aha!” said I. They DID have a different mindset when they created their Facebook page. Those existing, prescreened fans were more “civilized” and likely to be put off by the hoi polloi allowed to post on the site now. This did not help me with my own screening, so I needed to move on.

Before I did, I took a gander at the historical list of commercials. I stayed just long enough to determine that the person who edits their Facebook page doesn’t know how to spell “rakish.” I would have clued them in to this error, but you need to “like” the page before you can post on it. There’s no way I’m engaging with hoi polloi who could never pass muster, much less mustard (from a Volkswagon Beetle window).

Back to my own screening criteria. Here are some things I feel I have a right to expect from my blog followers. They should know how to spell “rakish” and they should look good in a hat set at a rakish angle. They should be able to tell the difference between hoi polloi and swells at a distance of 100 feet, which means they need to know what a “swell” looks like.

I’d like them to know how to make a kickin’ pot of vegetarian chili and to be able to say “thank you” in at least one language other than English. They should have a stash of those recyclable grocery bags in the trunk of their car. They don’t talk in a loud voice on their cell phone when they’re in public, and they know when (and how) to turn it off. They brake for animals; they do NOT speed up.

Conversely, here are some deal breakers. Have you ever caught a fish with your bare hands? Collected empty beer cans to make a piece of furniture? Do you have more than three tattoos? Are any of them larger than 4” across? Would you look right at home in a WalMart? Even if that Walmart were in Alabama or Mississippi? ( Especially if it’s in Alabama or Mississippi?) I don’t have to tell you what a “yes” to any of these means.

Finally, here are a few multiple-choice questions to test your suitability to follow me.

1.     Which of the following do you consider a culinary treat?

a)    Ahi sashimi

b)   Squirrel stew

c)    Eggplant rollatini

2.     Your window box garden is now growing:

a)    Fresh basil

b)   Weeds

c)    Weed

3.     Your favorite summer footwear is:

a)    Merrell or Teva sandals

b)   (For men) Tube socks and Birkenstocks; (for women) flip-flops

c)    Tennies or boat shoes

If you answered any letter b, you’re too déclassé; don’t even apply. If you answered any letter c, I’ll put you on my waiting list, but don’t hold your breath (and don’t inhale…). The rest of you can fill out my screener online. Be sure to attach a photo of you in a hat set at a rakish angle.

Why We Forget More As We Age

Recently I discovered a scientific basis for why we forget so much as we get older. To explain this, I need to put it in biological context. A woman is born with a finite number of eggs in her ovaries. Once they’ve all made that monthly journey down her fallopian tubes (or have shriveled up in situ), there are no more eggs to be had.

It’s much the same with brain cells wired for memory. Our brains have a finite capacity for the number of things we can remember. Once our hippocampus is full (usually as we approach retirement age), there’s no more room for new stuff. Depending on your sentiments and the type of brain you have, you either fail to store any new information, or the new information bumps out something older that’s already in there.

If you’re paying attention, you’re no doubt wondering how your gray matter decides whether to refuse to remember new information vs. getting rid of something older, and what that "something older" might be. A key factor is the state of the economy when you reach your golden years.

Accountants will be familiar with two ways to value inventory: LIFO (Last In, First Out) and FIFO (First In, First Out). In an inflationary economy, companies prefer LIFO accounting. Inventory you use up is valued at the higher cost of a recent purchase, rather than the lower cost of something procured perhaps years earlier. (Yes, I know that companies can’t just switch back and forth willy nilly.)

An older brain will simply refuse to remember something new unless it’s really important. In that case, in a deflationary economy (speaking hypothetically, of course), a FIFO brain jettisons the oldest memories first, if it can find them. A LIFO-economy brain bumps out one of the more recently-acquired pieces of information. This explains why, in the real world, those with failing memories can often recall things from decades past, but not from yesterday.

Like everything else involved with gray matter, this is not a simple, clear-cut process. There’s a certain amount of emotion involved, too. If the positive emotional value of the memory about to be expunged is at least twice that of the new item, the brain will refuse the new information. Similarly, if the negative baggage of the old stuff is twice that of the incoming, it’s out with the old, in with the new. I hope you’re getting all of this.

If you’re of a certain age, expect to be forgetting more and more recent knowledge from now on. Baby Boomers have little chance of approaching retirement in a deflationary economy. Interest rates may start ratcheting up next year. If rates go up, can inflation (and LIFO memory) be far behind?

Getting back to the ovary/eggs comparison. Scientific advancements enable a woman to use a donor egg to create a baby. We need to co-opt that science for gray matter in order to counteract the forgetfulness that comes with aging. We donate blood. We donate bone marrow. Is it too much to ask to be able to donate a few cells from one hippocampus to another?

While we wait for this breakthrough, there are certain mental exercises you can do to help you retain the memories you cherish most. If you were paying attention three paragraphs back (and if you’re not functioning in extreme LIFO mode), you’ll remember that emotions can influence which older memories get expunged to make way for new ones. This tidbit is the basis for your exercises.

Decide which memories you are determined to hold onto. Pair them with some positive emotional imagery. Focus on this pairing for at least two minutes. The emotional connection will now override the LIFO/FIFO functioning of your brain. The memories you want to keep will remain, regardless of where they are in the LIFO/FIFO hierarchy.

Conversely, think of something you’re perfectly willing to forget. Pair it with something repulsive in your emotional repertoire. Focus on this pairing for at least four minutes; (bad stuff takes twice as long to jettison). The emotional connection will similarly override the hierarchy.

There you have it. A simple explanation for why we forget more as we age and easy-to-perform exercises to manage this problem while we await a scientific breakthrough to allow brain cell transplants.

In the meantime, it’s a good idea to scatter some notebooks around your house and in your car. And several pens or pencils. Write down anything really important, and then hope you don’t forget where you put the notebook. You can thank me later, if you remember.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

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I recently read Ellen Degeneres’ book Seriously… I’m Kidding. In one chapter, she wrote about the lies we all tell. An example she used: you’re on your way out the door to work when you notice a stain on your shirt. You’re too lazy to change, so you tell everyone it happened on the way to the office.

While we all tell white lies, retirees tell more of them. Our lives are a petri dish of little lies. We also lie for different reasons than when we were younger. Young people are prone to one type of lie: the Get Out of Trouble one. It begins with “the dog ate my homework” and progresses to “we ran out of gas.” (Remember what you were doing when you told that one?)

I’ve identified six types of lies that older folks tell. These do not include Get Out of Trouble, though at least one senior lie resembles that youthful one.

The first senior lie is the Embarrassment/Matter of Pride lie. Your daughter phones to check if you took your medicine that morning. “Of course I did,” you reply, indignantly, on your way to fetch the day-of-week dosage container that has not yet been opened today. Although this resembles the youthful Get Out of Trouble, it’s not fear of getting into trouble that’s behind it. It’s the embarrassment of having to admit you once again forgot.

The second type is the Ignorance/Forgetfulness lie. The senior shuttle bus can take you to the local market every Tuesday at 10 am. Your neighbor asks why she didn’t see you on it last week. “I didn’t need to go to the market. I have everything I need,” say you-of-the-empty-cupboard.

This is not the same as simply lying about something you forgot. With the medication example, you lied knowingly when confronted. The second type is done in complete innocence. You didn’t know about the shuttle, or you forgot you ever knew. Rather than admit that, you fabricate a lie to divert the conversation elsewhere.

Type three becomes increasingly common as we age: the Convenience lie.

Normally, I don’t park in restricted areas, but lately I find it harder to resist convenience. The other day, I pulled into a “No Standing” zone in front of the bank so my husband could use the ATM. His knees are creaky and he uses a cane if he’s going a considerable distance, but he’s fine for shorter walks.

As he was leaving the car without his cane, I asked him to take it with him. “That way, if anyone says something to me about parking here, I’ll tell them it’s because my husband is an invalid.” I could hear Ellen Degeneres chastising me: “Liar, Liar, pants on fire!” I guess my husband couldn’t hear her, because he dutifully took his cane and pretended to hobble up the steps to the bank.

The fourth variation is Delaying Tactics. This buys time while you try to figure out (or remember) what’s being asked of you. Women commonly use this by rooting through their purses, mumbling, “Hang on. It’s in here somewhere.” We’re actually buying time while we try to remember where we put whatever is supposedly in our purse.

Type five is Deflected Blame, which is sometimes a companion to Get Out of Trouble or Embarrassment. I’ve blamed my cats for “scratches” and “claw marks” on my limbs and torso when my GP asks how I got them. I might have stabbed myself with a knife or scissors, but blaming the felines keeps him from lecturing me about my carelessness. Besides, it could have been the cats. Who knows?

This reminds me of one of my favorite movie scenes. It’s from “10,” where Dudley Moore is visiting the pastor to get information on the Bo Derek character. The housekeeper noisily passes gas as she bends over to set the serving tray on the coffee table and the dog races out of the room. The pastor explains: “Whenever Mrs. Kissel breaks wind, we beat the dog.”

The sixth and final senior lie is Keep In Practice, which is just what it sounds like. Even with plenty of occasions to employ the other five types, it’s a good idea to have a few of this last one in your hip pocket, just in case. “My doctor said that’s not a good idea.” (Be careful to never specify which doctor.) “I’m trying to de-clutter, so I packed it away in the attic (or donated it to Good Will.)” “Yes, I know you told me that, but I didn’t realize you were serious.”

If you think you’re immune from telling any of these senior lies, feel free to proclaim your innocence. Chances are, no one will believe you anyway.

Retiree’s Life in Pie Charts

This week’s post is a visual one: viewing a typical retiree’s life in pie charts. Special thanks to my Fly Fox friend for suggesting this idea. If you have trouble reading the legends for these charts, scroll to the bottom. They are in text down there.

There you have it. A typical retiree’s life, explained in easy to understand pie charts.

As promised, for those who have visually-challenged computer screens, below is the text.

A RETIREE’S LIFE IN PIE CHARTS

ITEM                                                                PERCENTAGE

Sleep Cycle

Time Spent Getting Ready for Bed                                                            20

Time Spent Trying to Fall Asleep                                                               30

Time Spent Getting Up to Go to the Bathroom                                        5

Time Spent Trying to Get Back to Sleep                                                  15

Time Spent Actually Asleep                                                                       15

Time Spent Trying to Wake Up and Get Going                                       15

Doctors' Appointments

Time Spent Looking for Doctors' Phone #s                                             15

Time Spent Scheduling Doctors Appointments                                     20

Time Spent Changing Doctors Appointments                                        25

Time Spent in Doctors' Waiting Rooms                                                   32

Time Spent with Doctors in Their Offices/Exam Rooms                         8

Food Cycle

Making Shopping List                                                                                 18

Grocery Shopping                                                                                       20

Unloading Car/Putting Groceries Away                                                   27

Deciding What To Eat                                                                                  25

Preparing Meal                                                                                              6

Actually Eating                                                                                               4

USPS Mail

Occupant Junk Mail                                                                                       25

Personalized Junk Mail                                                                                 15

Charity Appeals                                                                                              10

Bills                                                                                                                   20

Medical Information (Non-Bills)                                                                  25

Personal Mail Worth Opening                                                                       5

Phone Calls

Solicitations (Robocalls and Live)                                                               35

Surveys (Robocalls and Live)                                                                       20

Appointment Reminders                                                                              15

Family Emergencies                                                                                         8

Family Guilt Calls                                                                                            12

Friends Keeping in Touch                                                                              10

Your Social Network

Neighbors You Avoid                                                                                     25

Neighbors Who Avoid You                                                                           25

Neighbors You Never Cross Paths With                                                     10

Neighbors You Spend Time With                                                                   5

Facebook Friends You "Spend Time" With                                                35

Just-In-Case Lifestyle

You may have heard of the Just-In-Time inventory concept popularized several decades back. To reduce costs, manufacturers kept the absolute minimum inventory on hand. They implemented computer systems to help predict orders and locate production facilities to optimize their ability to deliver goods “just in time.”

Today, thanks to digital printing, that concept has found its way into publishing as “Print On Demand.” That’s how I published my three books, through Amazon’s Create Space arm. My books get printed only when (if) someone orders one of them on Amazon.com. Don’t worry. This post is not about selling my books. It’s about the contrarian inventory concept of “Just In Case,” which means it’s about how I came to have such an array of belongings.

“Just In Case” is a mantra that I’ve lived by most of my life. It explains half the clothes that are in my closet, tags still attached. Also a cabinet full of cake pans, just in case I decide to take up baking. And shelves of How To… books and file drawers of reference materials on arcane topics. In preparation for downsizing our house, I’ve been weeding out things I acquired “just in case.” Not an easy task when you’ve spent your life accumulating stuff.

I blame my mother for this. She had a full-size standing freezer in our kitchen that was always chock full of meals she’d prepared, ready to be defrosted at a moment’s notice. She did this—you guessed it—just in case a platoon of friends or relatives dropped in unannounced and needed to be fed. Or more accurately, just in case they dropped in unannounced, period. It was her assumption that people always needed to be fed. (Did I mention my mother was Italian?)

My brother turned this into a standing joke with her. As my mother aged into her eighties, she’d engage us in conversations about who should take what from the house after she was “gone.” When my brother was visiting from California and she started on this, he would ask her teasingly: “Where’re you going, Mom?” And she’d shoot back: “Well, I won’t be around forever, you know.”

This prompted him to reply: “You’re not going to leave us anytime soon. You wouldn’t do that to us.” She’d ask what made him so sure, and he’d point out that the freezer was not completely filled to the brim. “You wouldn’t leave us with the freezer partly empty. How would we feed all the people who’d be coming back to the house after your funeral?” Then we’d all laugh, and my mother would get up and start cooking.

It wasn’t only with food that she believed in being prepared. She kept brand new pajamas and a robe in her dresser, just in case she had to go to the hospital unexpectedly. So you see, it’s mostly my mother’s fault that I’ve been saddled with this “just in case” mentality.

To be fair, I suppose my father is also partly to blame. He amassed a garage full of tools, just in case. We lived in one of the snowiest parts of New Jersey, but our car spent the winters in our driveway. There was no room for it in the garage. In his defense, my father used most of his tools and equipment. Or again, more accurately, he used them or he loaned them out to neighbors.

He had a table saw and a band saw and a wall full of those plastic organizers with the drawers that pull out. He had drivers for every type of screw ever made and wrenches that looked like pieces of bent metal. Back in the fifties I was probably the only teenage girl who knew what an Allen wrench was. I was also the only freshman in my college dorm who arrived with her own toolbox. I became popular quite quickly. (Thank you, Dad.)

Between them, my parents were prepared for every eventuality that could have befallen our household. I was doomed from the get go. Even now, I stock up on extra candles, batteries and bottled water, in case the power goes out for a few days. That was a common occurrence where I grew up, but it hasn’t happened once in my twenty years in Providence. Not even last year, when Connecticut was a disaster.

No, a Shaker lifestyle was never in my cards. Speaking of cards, I have two decks (unused) especially for playing Briscola. You never know when you’re going to run into some Italians who might want to play that card game, so I bought the decks when I was in Piemonte. Just in case.

Changing Tastes

When I did our grocery shopping this week, the type of yoghurt we prefer was nowhere to be found in the local Stop & Shop, a major chain. I usually buy their store brand, but I’ll pay extra for Stonyfield, if that’s the only way I can get the variation we use. That is: regular yoghurt, nonfat, plain, in the large container.

There was exactly one regular S&S yoghurt in the large container, and it was nonfat vanilla. We don’t like the vanilla. The Stonyfield section had several nonfat vanilla ones, and exactly one plain, but it was low fat. I snapped it up anyway, to avoid having to stop at another market. In case you’re not a yoghurt eater, let me tell you why our variation is so hard to find these days. Everyone has hopped onto the Greek yoghurt bandwagon. It’s thicker and creamier, but we prefer regular. Jagdish won’t touch the Greek.

This episode made me realize yet again that people’s tastes change over time, and because of that, food and beverages that I’ve enjoyed for years are suddenly difficult, if not impossible to find. I’m sorry, but the older I get, the more I appreciate some stability in my life. I resent having to rejigger my eating habits to keep up with what’s in vogue this month.

In rare instances, the world’s tastes have caught up with my own. I was a tea drinker when tea wasn’t cool. Now even Starbucks is pushing the teacart. This means I have more varieties from which to choose and every place I shop has a decent supply. Oh, yes, and there’s usually one brand on sale somewhere. Sweet!

One beverage where tastes have changed notably over the years, including my own, is wine. I’ve always gone for drier wines, but I used to prefer white. (These days I prefer red.) I remember when Chablis was the wine of choice when you went out to dinner. Now I rarely see Chablis on a wine list, unless it’s three pages long.

Likewise no longer easy to find is Verdicchio, which was one of my youthful preferences. I loved that citrusy zing and the interesting bottles, especially the cute fish-shaped one and the curvy number. Speaking of the curvy bottle (Fazi Battaglia), I also loved their radio commercials, the ones where diners struggled to pronounce the name. “Bring us some of that Fuzzy Baggies” is particularly memorable.

Mateus was another popular option in the early seventies, an affordable rosé that has pretty much disappeared (mercifully). Most folks pronounced it Mahtoose, but I always gave it three syllables, like Matthew in Portuguese—Mah-teh-oos. Apparently, the pronunciation, like the wine, targets a less-urbane audience, because the makers use two syllables.

Moving on to reds, more recently Pinot Noir (think the movie Sideways) gave way to Merlot, which is giving way to Malbec. I remain partial to a Cab or a nice Chianti. I could do an entire post just on changing tastes in wine.

Back to what to order when you go out to eat, when I worked in midtown Manhattan, one of my go-to lunches at the Brasserie on East 53^rd was steak tartare. It’s gone (the tartare, not the Brasserie), and not just because of Mad Cow disease. Blood red meat is considered too Mad Men macho; it’s also bad for your cholesterol. Everyone is more health conscious now. You’re more likely to see tuna tartare than the beef version.

Sweetbreads and Rocky Mountain (or prairie) oysters seem to have disappeared, too. What’s that about? Did the Internet make it easier for people to find out what they were actually eating? And frogs’ legs. Several species of frogs are endangered. Have we finally grown a social conscience? More likely it’s because France enacted laws to protect them in 1980. I doubt that Julia Childs would include Cuisses de Grenouille in a new edition of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

Many of my more salient food memories have been tossed into the gastronomic InSinkErator. It should make me angry, but it just makes me sad. I guess I should thank the Lord for small favors. All the items that are on Luke’s increasingly short list of acceptable foods are still available in supermarkets. There are some things he just won’t eat. He’ll sniff them, give them a poke or two and then walk away. That’s probably what Jagdish would do if I served him Greek yoghurt. Let’s hope we never have to find out.