A Blast From The Past

I'm 36 years old. I live with my husband, an IT Director, and his son. I am not a stay-at-home mom. I work 40 hours a week with graphic software making electronic marketing pieces. I blog with photos taken from a digital camera. I email and load my ipod with podcasts on the laptop at home in front of the television. I DVR my shows so I don't have to watch the commercials. I cook on an electric flat top and a nearly-silent machine washes my dishes.

I very much live in 2011.

But I have always had a little 1952 in me ... even from childhood. I blame black and white television for that. Growing up I watched series like I Love Lucy and Father Knows Best. There was The Andy Griffith Show, Patty Duke and Donna Reed all with episodes of beautiful women in heels and pearls happily sweeping a kitchen floor. I hate cleaning the kitchen floor. But something about doing it in a fancy dress with a lacy apron makes it seem appealing.

And while the honest truth is I can't make a jello mold, don't own a string of pearls, and would not have any idea how to get all my hair in little curls on the top of my head, anytime I can introduce a little 1950's into my world, I'm up for it.

So when David came home the other day and mentioned he saw a neighbor down the street had a milkman delivery box, I stopped dead in my tracks. "They have MILKMEN in Connecticut?" I asked. "We could have a MILKMAN?" .... "Deliver our milk?" I was shocked. "Yep, eggs and half and half too" was his reply. Oh how precious is that! I thought the milkman had gone with way of black and white television.

So the next day, David called and signed us up to have a milkman. My inner 1952 housewife was so THRILLED, I microwaved some popcorn and watched a program I recorded upstairs down in the basement.

I very much live in 2011.

Much to my delight, every Friday morning a milkman from Mountain Dairy comes and fills up a little refrigerated box that we leave out on the step with milk, eggs and cider. Every Friday morning a piece of the past rolls up our street in the form of a little old-fashioned milk truck. How country Connecticut is that? So fun!