I found all was not right with the world during a recent trip to Costco: Pepsi has replaced Coke in the food court.
What other American invention is as omnipresent as ice-cold cola? In bottle, can or glass, cola is found from coast to coast, served at diners and the White House. Others have come and gone since druggist Angelo Mariani invented the cola in 1863, but two giants among soda exist today in the US: Coke and Pepsi.
The battle of the beverage behemoths continues. Both are over a century old. Both want your cash. Both have an avid following.
What's the attraction? The fizz, the flavor, the corn syrup? A few years of working in product development for the food industry put me right off corn syrup, so I only drink the diet version. Every sip of Diet Coke is a delight. I am a Coke customer for life. Pepsi in any form is just...yucky.
Coca-Cola is the most recognized brand in the world. Coke brings to mind what is best about the American way of life: first girl-boy parties, dates and shy kisses; war-weary soldiers getting letters from home; a rusted sign creaking in the wind outside the local restaurant. Plus it can be used to relieve the sting from jelly fish and remove rust spots from chrome car bumpers.
It's Coca-Cola Chicken and Coca-Cola Cake in the South for a reason...Pepsi just doesn't cut it. For many, it symbolizes the magic of childhood and kindles the memories of family gatherings, football games and school dances.
For me, Coca-Cola is still the real thing. I now drink water with my Costco hot dog, missing that red and white wave patterned cup overflowing with an abundance of taste.
A circadian rhythm is a roughly 24-hour cycle in the biochemical, physiological, or behavioral processes of living entities, including plants, animals, fungi...practically every living thing on the globe.I tried to interrupt my rhythm today, or yesterday depending on how you look at it. One of our 3rd shift employees recently left and I needed to be at work around 1:00 am to perform some skilled 
tasks. I left work early during the day and did my best to tire myself out by digging a 12 inch deep by 15 foot long trench and constructing a 15 foot by 3 foot planter (more on the trench and planter at a later date). Despite feeling tired and a bit achy, it really didn't help me to get to sleep when I headed for bed at 6:00 pm. I drifted in and out of sleep for a while, watched a bit of television and eventually fell asleep sometime after 8:00 pm.I awoke to a ringing telephone and a 30 minute warning. Bed hair not withstanding, I looked and felt okay. I started the test at 2:00 am. Within 30 minutes I was reminded of those "baby daze" when waking up several times during the night for the care and feeding of an infant would render me nauseous and unable to think clearly. Fortunately a large glass of water took care of my malaise and I was up and running at something near full speed.For many, this shift is their normal work time. Waiters, waitresses, cooks, bakers, the voices on the radio, security guards, cleaning services, hospital workers, taxi cab drivers...the list is long. There is a new and growing nocturnal work force lurking in the neon glow. The graveyard or the third-shift, once predominantly populated by blue-collar workers, is now also filling its ranks with energy brokers, computer programmers, and financial advisers. Think of those who answer our phone calls on the other side of the world. Relatively high wages and the opportunity to be part of an upscale, globalized work environment draw many in the Far East to the call center industry.Shift differentials, fewer meetings, less traffic, fewer people to compete with for promotions...there are many good reasons for working the night shift. I prefer to sleep during the night, but that's just me.The balance of the night passed without issue. I completed the testing and eventually headed home. Now at 5:45 am, when I need to be going to sleep, I am very much awake, having arrived at the time of day I typically wake up. I see a power nap or two in my immediate future.
Ask five different people why sounds appear to carry further at night and you'll likely get five different answers. Air temperature, humidity, lack of visual acuity in the dark leads to better hearing capability, air density...the list goes on.
The speed of sound is one of the physical constants we count on. Sound level decreases at a rate proportional to the inverse square of the distance from the sound source. Let's say you're listening to the radio. If you double the distance between you and the radio, the sound will be one-quarter as loud as it was before you moved. Whether or not you could hear it during the day, the sound from your refrigerator was still there. At night it has less to compete with in terms of background noise. Sounds that are drowned out during the day are much clearer at night.
Fewer cars passing by, less airplane traffic, kids no longer playing outside...all these and many more result in a quieter neighborhood. As I was reading in bed the other night, the silence was interrupted three times.
First was the squawking of seagulls as they passed over our house. Barely noticeable to most of our neighbors, seagulls are still a novelty for us. It has been nearly twenty years since we lived in a place with more than a small handful of seagulls, so listening to them is still a treat.
Second was the deep whistle of a train, followed by the low rumble of the engines and dozens of cars. The tracks hug the coastline in this area, reminding me of the many times I rode the Coast Starlight between Davis and Santa Barbara, sleeping and waking over and over as the train started and stopped, looking out into the ever-shifting view of dark skies and clusters of stars.
Third was a lone bagpipe. This was the sound that actually got me out of bed to open the bathroom window and listen closer. The piper serenaded the neighborhood with the sounds of the highlands for about fifteen or so minutes. I wish whomever it was had gone on longer, but it was a wonderful concert despite its brevity. I have yet to find the piper or hear from them again. Fortunately I won't be without live bagpipe music for long, as the 50th Annual Bellingham Scottish Highland Games is coming soon.
The Scottish Great Highland Bagpipe and Irish uilleann pipes have the greatest international visibility, but bagpipes of many different types come from different regions throughout Europe, Northern Africa, the Persian Gulf, and the area of the Caucasus Mountains. All produce an unusual sound, one that is impossible to ignore.
I can not explain my attraction to the drone and skirl of the bagpipe, as I know they are not for everyone. I may not know why, but I don't question that to me, the pipes, the pipes they are a calling.
Letters are intrinsically dramatic. Were you expecting one? Who is it from? What are they writing about? In this day and age of electronic mail, how often do you get letters?
I received two envelopes earlier this week. Both arrived on the same day. Both were canceled on the same day, albeit it in different cites. And both contained hooey.
That's right, hooey. Babble, balderdash, baloney, drivel, garbage, gibberish, hogwash, horse-feathers, piffle, poppycock, rubbish, tomfoolery. Call it what you will, it was hooey.
One envelope contai
ned a money making opportunity that was not a chain letter. The author (unknown, of course) guaranteed it was not in violation of the US Postal Code. In fact, they stated it several times. And had a letter from a lawyer (no name, of course) indicating it is legal. And it was seen on Oprah and 20/20, so it must be true, right?
The second envelope contained a letter from my ex-employer, the mail-order company Harry & David, explaining they would "not rest until we once again feed you, and your soul". It was signed by the new Chairman, CEO and Chief Happiness Officer. Oh puleeze. Perhaps they should try purging their mailing list of all the ex-employees that were laid-off over the last 18 months before sending a form letter that supposedly speaks to your soul.
E-mail, telephones, fast food...so much instant gratification. Letters are planned and organized, hold your attention and provide the uninterrupted privacy so many of us long for. I was ready to respect the time and effort put into both only to have my hopes dashed not once but twice in the same day.
Cindy and I have owned four different houses over the course of the last 21 years. Each was our home for a period of time. I like to think they were better for us living in them, but you'd have to ask the houses about that.
The things we do to our homes are a kind of calling card left behind for those who are still to come. The improvements, the alterations, the color of the walls, the cut of the trim...they all say, “we were here.” There has been one constant in the many calling cards we left for the next inhabitants of the houses we owned: roses.
The rose is almost as old as history itself, with fossil evidence indicating it is over 35 million years old. Across the centuries, roses have been symbols of love, beauty, war and politics. For me, they are a tie to my maternal grandfather. He came to the United States from Italy in 1920 and began working as a gardener, which he did until his death in 1972. As a child, I recall visiting the estate he worked on in Montecito, CA. Filled with trees and plants of every kind, it was the perfect place for a kid to run and play. 
The Rose Garden at Mission Santa Barbara is filled with a myriad color of roses. It is where I first saw David Austin Roses, planted near a stone wall which is a remnant of the Mission era. Introduced in 1969 by hybridizing already existing hybrids with old world species of typically English roses, David Austin built the foundation for an ever expanding collection of roses never seen before. Appealing forms of older species combined with the hardiness of modern hybrids produce a masterpiece of artfully arranged petals.
Who could have predicted one day I would work for Jackson & Perkins, one of the premier rose growing companies in the world? Or that one day David Austin himself would visit J&P in Medford and I would get the opportunity to meet him?
New job, new city, new home, and this house is no exception: there are seven calling cards in the yard, and five of them are from David Austin.
Biblical parables have their mustards, Johnny Appleseed spread his trail over the country, and Jack planted magical beans to find a beanstalk the next morning. We plant roses.
