Do I remember Grammy’s ice box frig? I do remember her white enamel tub wringer-washing machine, holding a metal slanted scrub board slanted against a black rubber hose flowing dirty water into the sink. How things have changed since the 1950s – when milk and bread were delivered to our neighborhood country homes once or twice a week in Ithaca, NY. And, a large black C printed on a square of cardboard – placed in our window to show the truck driver when to pick up clothes needing to be dry cleaned. Such personal services without a delivery charge.

My present charge slips Perry’s Death by Chocolate ice cream into my mouth – eaten nightly throughout the past 15 years (except while on vacations). The cost is $4.49 per half gallon until it goes on sale for 2-3 months at Wegman’s – dipping to $2.99, filling my white freezer over-the-top-refrigerator with 6 or more half gallons. My housemates, friends or family cannot believe I am able to stop with 1 small bowl in the evening when there is a deluge of ice cream available. But then, why do I freeze 7 over ripe blackened bananas saved in the side pocket of my freezer for a dozen years? Will I ever make smoothies again after 4 years of not?

My dad called himself “the garbage can,” eating an entire apple, except the stem (if there was one attached.) So, it is melted into my being not to waste, to my daughter’s distaste, eating food weeks old. Sometimes with mold (removed).

But on the outside of my refrigerator another story is told; entirely decorated with photos of family and friends, even several past boyfriends months, years old. And, just today in my office I was told by a client seeing my high school photo, “You’re well preserved.”