The value of a good cup should not be underestimated. When one is pressed by financial, spacial and motivational constraints, the thick-rimmed, chipped mug at the back of the cupboard becomes the Swiss Army knife of life. It’s a wine glass when I’m broke, a pencil jar when I’m tight on space and a cereal bowl when I’m too lazy to scrub the mutated Cheerios off the bowls in the sink. What this all makes the classic thermos, I don’t quite know. I truthfully only bought the one pictured above for aesthetic reasons at a church yard sale a week ago. Made in 1974, its geometric blue pattern is typical of most Thermos brand thermoses of the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s and like each one made since the brand’s launch in 1904, it holds the ability to maintain the temperatures of both cold and hot beverages for an extended length of time. Using magic, I think. Below are other thermoses that I don’t understand but want to possess so I can fill them with spiked apple cider or flowers or ramen noodles.
As one might do with dentist appointments or oil checks, I make a point of visiting at least one petting zoo a year. An afternoon with barnyard animals always makes me less insecure about my own grooming routine – you think your hair is unmanageable until you run your hands over a donkey’s mane – but also, on a more idealistic note, makes me believe a little more in the potential for people to forget about surface-level differences and just get along already. Maybe it was the above-pictured sheep who first greeted me and smiled for my iPhone or the cows who moo-ed in the most delighted tone I believe is possible for a mammal to achieve, but my Saturday at Easton’s Klein Farms with my parents took away a little of my post-grad cynicism. Continue reading