The new Krup Espresso machine arrived yesterday. I read the directions carefully and then proceeded to make coffee for David and an espresso for me. I did it perfectly. This morning, when I tried the same thing, before I was fully awake (but who is awake before the first cup??) I managed to blow cream all over the bird cups lined up on the counter for filling, the empty coffee cups, the espresso maker, cupboards, wall and me. I finally got the thing to work properly (it was me, not the machine) and made coffee for David and an espresso for me.
Now my new cleaner is here and the dogs have been barking incessantly for 20 minutes. I pulled out my water pistol and they got quiet. Sometimes to enforce law and order you have to carry a gun.
I am suffering enormous bouts of guilt this morning. Cleaners cleaning, nutty Poms (like the little fellow who won the Westminster dog show), a state of the art espresso maker. I am not used to such finery. I can hear one of my former co-workers saying, “But you could give all the money you spent on such finery to the poor.”
Instead, I look at the espresso maker, designed in Germany, manufactured in France, distributed by a Canadian company, and fair-trade environmentally sensitive coffee Arabica beans (the machine grinds the beans) grown by poor farmers working under tall spreading tropical trees that will not see the woodsman’s axe, and I think about all the folks employed in the growing or manufacture, shipping, distribution of these items.
Furthermore the cleaners have a very small firm (4 workers) run by an immigrant couple (Cuban), and they use only green products.
Mary, the woman who bred my little Poms had a dog-breeding business with her sister. I visited the site (her home and back yard) where the dogs lived. They had all the amenities of well-kept dogs, even an air-conditioned dog house they could enter and leave at will. Puppies and moms were kept in her house. The house and yard were on the grounds of the old TB sanitarium in PG county MD.
The vet clinic I use for my happy healthy Poms includes a young African-American dog vet who finished his degree only a few years ago. The service once catered to Al Gore’s dogs, but it is not ‘poncy’ as the Brits say. The clinic is in a building constructed in the early twentieth century by horse vets on a road (pike) that ran through a poor area now undergoing gentrification.
David and I bought our home when the area was at its nadir, and although it is now improving steadily, it retains some of the charm of an older neighborhood, including some of the older residents who like us have aged in place.
From time to time as we age, we must ask for and receive help.