Fifty, Forty, Thirty or Twenty Years Old

As I surveyed our outdoor  wrought iron furniture I was reminded of its age - over 50 years old. Then I thought of my car, nearly 20. Much of our indoor stuff hovered around 30. Only those items containing a motor of some kind were subject to elimination at some point in their future. Being a mechanical genius gave life to those pieces, oft marginalized, when that skill was missing from its owner. 

Money saved is money needed for another day to pay the bills ensconced in our daily lives for that rescue puppy or near death kitten, still arriving to greet us.  Buying inanimate objects whose trappings encapsulates us for the moment must be eschewed. Poor buying decisions can ruin a life or a lifetime; its frequency, a reminder that tomorrow is coming. Raising children to respect money's power starts with using some of their own money for that special 'gotta have it moment'. 

Vocabulary used to buy or sell can sometime determine the life and longevity of items we use - chairs, tables, sofas, to name a few. Instead of used, preowned or second hand, we give royal life to those items labelled historic, antique or vintage in the hopes that its value is greater, thus a higher price. Know the difference. Buying preowned is a good thing.

We have online shopping and delivery, in a heartbeat. Shopping has never been so easy. quick and in some cases, without thought. An unimaginable side trip with dire consequences awaits. A quick click, here and there, repeated often, can send us towards bankruptcy.

My cell phone was 26 years old when, in short order, my number was lost and sold. The service provider, the oldest in Canada, no longer accepted its duty to the client we were told by its service technicians. Too many people wanting too many things? And who made that happen? Necessity forced us to change again. Connections were in another language. Communication was gone. We were in a wasteland not of our making. No one was listening. We were forced to 'move' again.

I look around and realize the importance of loving not liking the items you buy. If clothing cannot be guaranteed a long future then its purchase must be seriously considered, if not ignored. There is no money tree. Remembering long loved items from a time forgotten helps recall the memories of a life well-lived. Missing out on an item gives rise to one important fact:, I was never meant to have it!

Decades ago our then 7-year-old faced his first buying dilemma. The item he saw in a store was 'yelling' at him. (I had mentioned the emotional context we all have with shopping. Inanimate objects can talk to us, a gut reaction we can't kick easily). A strong emotional connection had been formed not to be dismissed easily. Saying no to him in this instance would have been unfair, I knew. (Self worth matters to a small child). In this instance, the playing field is not level and the child is powerless.  A deal was proposed to give him half of the selling price, tax included. He was happy; the deal with mom, fair.    .  

After working tirelessly to pay for his share, our son ended the deal. He had worked too hard, for too long to waste money on something not that important anymore. His shopping future was waiting with unlimited choices to be made. Companies did not care about his bottom line. He did. Waiting was a valuable tool with a lesson learned. The 'yelling' game or this gut reaction helped determine this buying moment. When money is not spent foolishly we win.

I had moved the decades old 5-foot wrought iron bench to a spot closer to the garage. The work would start this summer. I was ready and able but tired of waiting. Years spent 'weather-waiting' and providing kennel care for a multitude of family fur balls had kept me in a holding pattern. This beautiful outdoor treasure, awash in rust and other weather related horrors suddenly became the attention of another whose skills would do it more justice than I ever could. I was not an artist. He was. 

As I surveyed its current status, recently, I was amazed at the transformation. Like new, in dramatic fashion, with more work to come, however, it was a treasure beyond belief, worth a king's ransom. Nothing like it existed in the marketplace today, I knew. I had seen its potential and so did its new owner. Its beauty, nearly restored and brought back to life, was now a priceless work of art.

Simple. Elegant. Divine.

It lingered long past the visit. The warm feeling felt, stayed with me till the next day at brunch or lunch, not sure which. Stress was knocked out of the park. I would have to wait for more of the delicious meal tomorrow. But at least I had experienced fine dining perfection, again, at this welcoming place of love and caring. And there was no restaurant in sight.

It was just a barbecue our son had said. It did not matter to us, never does. A little girl was becoming two tomorrow. We were seeing her today on that special birthday. It is the people, not the accoutrements that surround them, that matter to me. Wanting to spend time with us mattered to them. How lucky we were. Illness had spread to our families so we kept our distance to be sure. (Easter had been postponed.) We were just the grandparents. Other family would arrive at another time.  But we were here today with  simple clean food that took center stage on this celebratory day. Simple acts, maybe, but not to us.

The special all beef hotdog, on a toasted brioche bun, was delicious. Then the side dishes arrived. It was perfection. Even grandpa, known as silly pops to the girls, was happily engaged. Their attention was on sliced watermelon and the game silly pops had begun with them. A moment in time caught on video.

Sliced red onion, a simple green salad, alongside the simply adorned potato salad with a homemade dressing of lemon juice, mayo, spices were the hits of the party, with cucumbers diced for me by my 3-year-old granddaughter. Simple gestures performed by everyone let us relax and watch. Oh my. Even the large mug of black tea was perfectly delicious today. It did not seem that way at my domicile. What was missing, I wondered?

Her magic touch makes the difference And I had no part to play in this delightful spread. My ever present daughter-in-law made sure everything was perfect. Always is. Her attention to detail is everywhere, especially in the kitchen. (We are both in love with carefully grown and harvested Italian OO flour. Respecting the gluten makes all the difference in the world, it seems)

As the entree was being grilled, the buns were being toasted. Another delightful act of love and yummy. The green salad of romaine, orange bell pepper and tomato with fig balsamic dressing, new to my dressing repertoire, came next, in droplet form, food heaven for me as I ate red onion slices, leaving some for others. Remember, always share. (Red onions increase blood flow to the brain!)

We packed to leave knowing that fussiness is downplayed here. It was always about the people. I learn each and every time. If you are paying attention, learning always happens, slowly and with joy. Simple and plain at home becomes elegant and divine here. How does that happen? I must take copious notes.

Keep the steps clear and concise. At home I do it all. Here, I do very little, if anything at all. We are treated like royalty. There's a skill and nuance that only happens here where my son, 'daughter' and two little girls live. Looking forward to the magical salads tomorrow. Can hardly wait. Am I silly? Probably so. A new day; a new meal made by magical fingers sprinkled with love.