OLD WIVES' TALES

Ah! It's still Friday, so I'm not too late. I've had a busy day today, and almost - not quite, but almost - forgot that I wanted to tell you about the article I wrote for the online magazine for women over fifty, Prime Women.

I get their regularly posted emails, and they've been advertising for writers over fifty. I'm well over fifty, and over the fact that I'm no longer that age. I wrote to them and gave them some of my qualifications. The editor wrote back and asked me to "complete an assignment" as a test for them. She gave me the topic of explaining a number of myths about women over fifty.

She liked what I wrote. Part of their deal - no payment is involved at this time - is to sign an agreement form. It's all legalese to me, and I'd rather not sign anything like that. I respect the need for the company to cover their, ah, bases, shall we say, but I don't want to enter into any formal agreements. So, I said thanks, feel free to use the piece I wrote, but I'll pass.

But the editor did use my piece, and it was posted on Monday. It's titled "Old Wives' Tales: The Many Myths About Women Over Fifty." Although I've got articleas running in Charlotte Seniors, and, of course in Living, our community magazine, it's a hoot to see my work on a fancy-schmancy website like that one. I don't think they'll want anything more from me, but it was fun to do this one piece.

"TAKE TWO ASPIRIN AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING"

I've a few blog posts almost ready to go, but they need a bit more work. I have got an absolutely rotten cold - no cough to speak of, thank you, but nasty nevertheless. I really don't want to fuss with a blog post. Aha! what better article to post than one on aspirin that just ran in our community magazine. This month we celebrate the 120th anniversary of the patent for aspirin. Herewith, that article:

When was the last time your doctor gave you that advice? (Moreover, when was the last time you could call the office and speak to your doctor without going through his nurse or a triage nurse, and a long wait on the phone?)

You have to wonder how it’s properties were first discovered. Who was the first person to chew on some bark he’d torn off a willow and realize that his headache was gone? For centuries, extracts from the bark of the white willow tree, Salix alba, were known to be pain relievers. During the early nineteenth century, chemists isolated its active ingredient, Salicin. The pain reliever was difficult and costly to extract, so chemists began to search for a synthetic version. That version, salicylic acid, was discovered in 1860. Less costly to produce, salicylic acid was effective but was very hard on a patient’s stomach.

    

The German chemist, Felix Hoffman, whose own father suffered greatly from rheumatism but couldn’t stomach salicylic acid, began a search for a better pain reliever. In March of 1899, Hoffmann’s employer, now known just at Bayer AG, received a patent for acetylsalicylic acid, a product that would be easier on the stomach. They called the new product Aspirin. The “A” for the acetylsalicylic acid; the “spir” for spirea ulmaria, the Latin name for meadowsweet, a common source of salicylic acid; an “in” just because it was a suffix commonly used in the industry.

In America, Bayer lost their patent on the name Aspirin because they let many other manufacturers use it. Perhaps that’s a good thing. Can you hear a doctor telling a patient “take two acetylsalicylic acid tablets, and call me in the morning?”

Aspirin, the almost universal panacea, is largest selling pain reliever in the world. Sold generically or under a brand name like Bayer, coated or uncoated, full strength, children’s dose, or timed-release, it is probably one of the least expensive medications to produce. For general pain, headaches, fever, inflammation, for heart attack and stroke prevention or intervention, and even to help prevent or treat some cancers, it’s uses are many.

It’s side effects can be many too, and you’ll know one if you get one, but nothing like the horrendous warnings we hear about many of the new medications touted in the media. In general, aspirin is one of the NSAIDs, nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs, characterized by their anti-inflammatory characteristics. Acetaminophen, brand-named Tylenol, has none of those properties, and is easier on the stomach. Like all medications, aspirin should be taken according to the package directions or your physician’s directions. Don’t overuse a good thing.

MY LITTLE LIST OF HORRORS

I could care less what’s on the television – I’m either reading, writing or poring through the internet. I like to sit in rocking chair the Frank custom made for me years ago. The rocker fits my generous proportions, and it sits in the living room. So, I wear ear protectors to shut out as much of the sound as I can. Every once in a while some change in the sound or a flicker of light makes me look up at the screen. Last night I looked up during an interview a PBS reporter was having with an author. Lovely gal. And then she gestured with her hands and I went “bleah.” She’d painted her fingernails black. I just loathe that.

Fleeting and flitting brain that I have, I immediately thought to do a blog on new dress and grooming fads that I simply hate. I hate most of them because, to be honest, they strike me as being less than “lady like.” I know we live in an era where we can dress and adorn ourselves in whatever fashion suits our fancy, but some of them look awful.

Herewith, my list of horrors:

·       Nail polish in any colour out of the reds, pinks, coral, or naturals range – they should be worn only by Dracula

·       Red nail polish on stubby fingernails – attentions should never be drawn to stubby set of fingernails. They look like they’ve been chewed.

·       One or two nails on each hand painted a different colour - disconcerting

·       Hair with zig zag parts or a zig zag cut – neaten up folks.

·       Fake braids hair enhancements – natural is the way to go

·       Socks, sheer or not, worn with high heels – I knew a gal back in the sixties who wore white anklets and heels – she looked ridiculous.

·       Socks and brogues worn with dresses – looks like trans dressing to me

·       Bra straps that show. Strangely, wide, workout-bra straps showing don’t bother me

·       Spandex garments worn outside the gym – ladies, as a dear friend of mine always says: “Spandex is a  privilege.”

·       High heels with ankle straps. That strap interrupts the visual flow of the leg from toe to hemline, making legs look a bit chunky.

I’ve probably got a few more I could add to the list, but you can think about these for now.

WOMEN : RONZONI : TIME CONSUMING :: MEN : EGGOS : FAST AND EASY

The subject at a recent Tuesday morning meeting of Living, our community magazine, was the June issue and June weddings. The topic at hand: should the magazine run some of the staff’s wedding pictures? Before and after? Well, maybe, maybe not. We got to talking about how couples function together. It’s a physical and mental dance.

Fingers interlaced and wriggling, one of our community’s contributors described the minds of women. To paraphrase: “They’re like spaghetti, running in all directions.” Then, index finger jabbing there, there, there, he described men’s minds. Again, paraphrasing, “They’re like waffles, compartmentalized.” When given a bit of thought, his analogies, despite being generalizations, make perfect sense. I'd never heard of this before, but in googling this morning for an image of spaghetti and waffles, I found there's quite a bit of discussion on just this topic. Our resident droll humorist wasn't as original as we'd thought. This was my take on the topic:

Women’s minds are capable of running in many directions, “over, under, around, and through.” Unless they’re specifically focused on a situation at hand, a problem, or maybe a good book, they have many things to cover and be aware of in their day. There’s that “back of the mind” that lets them know when it’s time to pick up the kids, or the grandkids, put the wash into the dryer, or start dinner. They’re always checking their to-do lists, especially the mental lists.

Women are like the magazines they favor: Southern Living, Country Living, Martha Stewart Living – everyone’s living – Elle, O, Better Homes and Gardens. All are collections of miscellaneous, interesting topics. We’ll add in a few “single topic” publications like Gourmet or Prevention.

Men are like the magazines they favor: Popular Mechanics, Golf Digest, Car and Driver, Motor Trend, ESPN Magazine, Sports Illustrated. All are one-topic publications. We’ll allow GQ in here.

Men’s minds are generally compartmentalized. For the majority of men, they have boxes for things like sports and the guys, sex, home maintenance, the kids or grandkids, work. If they’re retired, that last compartment is called “what’s on for the day.”

There’s that old adage about “a man works from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.” That saying came into general usage because it’s true, not universally, but generally.

GRAMPA AND MERCURY

Yesterday, I was looking over my notes for blog topics. One was “Grampa and mercury.”  Good Grief! 

We lived right up the block from my father’s parents. Though I didn’t like to get down there, I loved being in the basement with my Grampa. (That's not Grandpa, it's Grampa, just the way we said it.) I didn’t like to get there because going down from the kitchen the stairs were open and the way was dark. It was intimidating for a little kid, and to this day I am leery of open stairs. I just know someone is going to reach through and grab my ankle. It’s never happened, but one never knows.

I just loved helping Grampa load coal into the furnace. I remember being down there once when the coal was delivered – whoosh! – down the chute in a cloud of dust (but no “hearty ‘Hi-yo Silver!’”)

One thing we did a lot was play with mercury. Grampa had a mayonnaise jar-full. We kids lived to roll drops of it in our palms, and cover dimes with it. We could keep the dimes – great for us to take to get penny candy. Oh, I could write a whole blog about penny candy. Maybe someday.

But mercury! I can’t begin to know why my Grampa had such a thing. Where would he have gotten it, and what would he have done with it? And what my uncle did with it when Grampa died, I’ll never know. I remember the jar was weighty. Imagine if one of us had dropped it. Whew!

Mercury is a dangerous thing. The Mad Hatter was mad because hatters once used mercury in their trade, and mercury affects the nervous system. There are other professions, like gold mining, that use mercury and its compounds in their everyday work. Not good, not good.

There are so many things commonly used years ago that we ban as toxic today. I do remember the sting of Mercurochrome. It’s still available in some countries, but ours bans it because of its mercury content. I guess ignorance was bliss.