Valley of the Cheese of the Dead

 

 

  Notice what is printed on the wheel

 Many tourist destinations are popular, overly popular.  When visiting our daughter in Switzerland, we have tried to peer over and around parked tour buses that covered the Alps with vehicles and people.  

But, then, there are other places that would be a surprise all around:  

The Valley of the Cheese of the Dead 

There is no way to describe this village and how honored cheese is. To make it more important, one can have their own cheese that started aging the early part of one's life, then being allowed to continue to age over someone's lifetime. 

 " Zufferey’s home, high in the Swiss mountains of Val d’Anniviers, is one of the last places you’ll find evidence of this peculiar practice—of keeping a wheel of cheese to be eaten at your funeral."

Displaying or discussing this practice, the village, the people, and huge wheels of aged cheese that will be served at your funeral, is impossible to do more than to tell you to visit this site, dedicated to cheese for the dead.

 

Valley of Cheese for the Dead 

 

 Wheels are resting in a cave, which probably has some very ancient cheeses.

149 years old

Ask yourself: Would I do this? Would living with this tradition give your life any more significance? No, probably not. But it would be so cool.

And you thought that Camembert or brie were among the best cheeses going. Ha.

                    

Would you think this sleepy, red geranium lined street was a part of the Valley of the Cheese of the Dead?
 

Gravity is not my friend.

wedding-venues.co.UK

I have nooo idea where I found this. A few years ago, I shrugged it off. Now?

I found a hair there under my chin,
And I yanked that sucker out,
But wouldn't you know, the very  next day,
Two more began to sprout.
I don't know what's happening;
It's a perplexing change of pace,
My arms and legs are going bald,
But I've gotta shave my face.

It's such a rotten travesty;
My tummy once was flat.
But now my hourglass is mostly ass,
And my waist has turned to fat.
My body's slowly sagging,
And I don't look so hot;
If a man wants to ogle my bosom now,
I'm afraid he'll have to squat.

But that's okay, 'cause I'm still here,
Of life I'm still a part.
So what if when I bend or stretch,
I leak a little fart?
I've lots of life and love in store,
Though I'm not young and shiny;
If ya wanta know the truth,
Old age can kiss my heinie.

FaceBook, American in the 1950s

Hopefully this will not offend those who read this.  While it is aimed straight to females, I am absolutely positive a male can nod with understanding. Perhaps he could write a male version of this?

With all luck, use of this poem will not violate some copyright or what-not.

...Oh, Surely Not!

Strong gravity around planets

I have been told by people that I do not look my age.

“I am 68…

“Oh surely not…you look about 55…really..no, 47?

And, I have been “hit on” by men not my husband or relative. They are in the upper senior level.

Here is the thing.  I know I still hold onto that by a thin piece of fleshy fabric.  I know that in a brief bit of time, I will get up, go to the bathroom mirror, and let go a silent scream.

I know that all cells in my body have probably formed a revolution, organizing through each inch of skin and fascia.  They have whispered, “Okay—tomorrow, every one simply lets go and gives into gravity.  Let'r all drop!”

I’ll let you know.  It is just around a corner.

P.S.  I suffer from severe migraines. These migraines had become so severe that the only viable solution is having BOTOX injections--not on my face, (except one in each eye brow)  however. Temples, various places in the scalp, down the back of neck, into the shoulders. Thirty-eight injections  are unimaginable in the pain factor. But the face? It is thinking about joining the revolution.

Please don't hate me because I'm beautiful...

                   YouTube, about 45 sec.
Not really. Go ahead...

Old Age is something to share.

In the early years of our parenting, we were either on the floor playing trucks, assembling Legos, changing diapers—daily life.

When children were almost asleep, we watched TV and our favorite shows.  The actors were about our age we guessed, and I don’t know if their hands every touched a diaper, clean or whatever.

Then and now

They exuded everything we were not: glamorous, glittery, or bulgy muscles, and great haircuts.

Recently I discovered something called “Cake Watch” in the newspaper; it is a summation of birthdays of the celebrity clan.

 

Apparently while we were aging, so were they!  Here are some examples:

In their 80s:  Robert Conrad (Wild Wild West), Willard Scott, John Callum (Northern Exposure), Harry Belafonte, Sophia Loren, Maggie Smith, Sean Connery….

Creaking Bones?

In their 70s: Roger Daltrey, Robert Redford, Patrick Stewart, Jane Fonda, Burt Reynolds, Shirley Maclaine, Chuck Norris, James Caan…

In their 60s: Goldie Hawn, Tom Selleck, Helen Mirren, Jaclyn Smith, Tommy Lee Jones…

This, somehow, reassures me.  Oh, and Justin Bieber is 21.