Category House and Home

Sandwiched In

Michael 1 Comment

Sometime over the past several years you have seen a news story, read an on-line article, or seen a magazine article on fast food advertising. Two things are always stressed in these reports – that the advertisers must use the same ingredients that the restaurant uses to make the sandwiches in the ads, and the sandwiches in the ads never look like what you get squished into that bag that you exchanged a bunch of dollar bills for.

There are always lots of excuses. They use special angles and shoot with optimal lighting. Their toppings might be a bit fresher than what the restaurants are using. And my favorite excuse, they don’t cook the food. Apparently when you cook meat it shrinks and when you wrap lettuce in aluminum foil on top of a hot sandwich it wilts. Quel surpise! Here’s an idea. How about not putting the toppings on until the sandwich is ordered? By I’m just talking to the wind.

When advertisers photograph a shirt or a blouse they have to get one from the production line for the picture. The model can be as fresh or as manipulated as you please but the product has to be what you can reasonably expect to find in the store. Why would expect the same requirements for the food we eat? But as I said, I’m just talking to the wind. Or am I?

Take a look at this. This is a sandwich from a local restaurant that has earned its reputation from its sandwiches.

20160601_165010

This particular sandwich was bought, bagged, tossed in the car, sat there while I stopped for gas, finally arrived home, plopped on the table, unwrapped, and picked up to be heartily devoured. That’s when I stopped and snapped off a shot. It probably isn’t that great of a picture because I don’t belong to the “take a picture of your food before you eat it” generation and it still looks like a pretty good sandwich to me. The funny thing about this local chain. They don’t advertise.

Imagine that picture handled by the food stylists responsible for making your McBurger look appetizing. That might be better than porn.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Now You See It

Michael Leave a comment

The older you get the fewer chances you have to say, “I never thought I’d see that.” It only makes sense that eventually you indeed will have seen everything. Fortunately mankind’s ability to invent, innovate, and improve is boundless. And thus recently, I again had the opportunity to say to myself, “Self, now you’ve seen everything.”

I was out taking a leisurely ride through the local environs when I happened down a road I had never been. This wasn’t a country road or a residential drive. It was a rather short yet well-traveled avenue but for some reason I never had a reason to use it neither to get from here to there nor to patronize any of the less than handful of businesses thereon occupied. There is a mechanic’s shop, an insurance agent, a paint store, and a florist. It was the flower shop that held me awestruck and although it wasn’t as significant say as when man walked on the moon, what I saw was up there. Well, not up there by the moon, actually not anyway at all in space. It was figuratively “up there.” Sort of. Especially if you are having a mentally slow day and can’t come up with a good phrase to end the sentence. Anyway, that flower shop (or ‘Shoppe’ as the marquee proclaimed), was breaking new retail floral ground. It has — are you ready for this? — it has — you really should be sitting down — it has — drum roll please — a drive through window!

Yes, florists are reaching the level of banks, pharmacies, beer distributors, automatic car washes, quickie oil change places, and fast food restaurants showing that thoughtfulness and gentility can also be speedy and convenient. Now you can arrive home with a bouquet of flowers, the perfect apology for whatever you did last night, without having to bear the embarrassment of actually getting out of your car and going into the supermarket floral department and/or counter. No longer do you have an excuse for not bringing your boss’s weird wife a hostess gift just because you were running late to get there for the dinner you’d rather be anywhere other than because the two of you couldn’t decide on a believable excuse for not going. (Ditto for your wife’s weird boss.) And now when you are hit with the question of what to bring for a fourth date while sitting at the red light three blocks from her house you realize your answer is just a short U-turn away.

Style, culture, elegance at the speed of pull around to the first window please. Now I’ve seen everything.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Power to the Person

Michael Leave a comment

A few posts ago I mentioned that my aging television set was aging erratically and rapidly. (See Saying What You Mean (May 16, 2016).) Actually the point of the post was the silly stuff people say when presented with being asked to review a good or service lending credence to the maxim, “It takes a professional reviewer to write a professional review.” Or at least it should. Little did I know that the gods who protect amateur reviewers would direct their wrath upon me.

What was a mere annoyance two weeks ago is now becoming a quest to make it to the annual Back to School Sale season that will undoubtedly feature that most necessary of college necessities, to wit a large screen high definition television. Those gods are probably doubly directive given that I’ve not too long ago also poked fun that those very Back to School Sales selections for whose premature appearance I now anxiously await (as evidenced in What I Did on My Summer Vacation (July 21, 2014) and Have I Got a Deal for You (August 13, 2015) respectively).

Back to the TV. As I then explained (apparently much too briefly) in mid-May how my set was taking remote control to new heights by turning itself on and off at will (or any average joe who happens to be around (sorry, I couldn’t resist)) I must append that by saying that it has wrestled control completely now not letting me even interject my will (or joe) by use of the remote control to turn it on and off at my will (or… no, not again). That’s right. I actually have to use the power button to apply or remove power. It’s downright archaic I tell you!

All this walking across the room to work that button by hand is downright exhausting! Fortunately I should only have to wait another month for this year’s sale of the century for electronics. I just hope that somewhere in the milieu of smart watches, tablets, and streaming media devices somebody actually has enough over stocked TVs to put on sale. Stay tuned. Details coming soon.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Fasting than a speeding bullet…

Michael Leave a comment

I got no mail yesterday. Real mail. In the mailbox mail. Brought by the guy driving the funny looking jeep. Honestly, I don’t remember when I last got no mail. There’s always some mail from some body every day. So what if most of it is from people wanting me to compare auto insurance, get a hearing aid, or use their coupon for 20% off my entire purchase. It’s still mail.

It’s still mail and it’s still a bargain. And it’s a bigger bargain than it was the last time I wrote about the US Postal Service. (See Second Class, All The Way (Nov. 10, 2014) and Neither Snow, nor rain, nor Congress, nor a Polar Vortex, etc., etc. (Jan. 9, 2014).) Since then it’s actually gone down 2 cents for first class postage. I know. I’ve actually used it quite a bit lately. On outgoing mail even. I’ve sent 10 or 12 pieces of real mail to real people so far this month. At $0.47 per, I spend a bit less than $5.00 a month on postage.

Now you’re going to say, “But e-mail is free.” Well… really? Unless you’re sponging off your parents’, children’s, or neighbor’s Wi-Fi, that e-mail is costing you something. Admittedly I’m not a big e-mailer. Over the last couple of weeks I sent about 2 dozen e-mails, let’s say 40 pieces a month. My Internet service costs me about $59/month. Or about $2 a day. A bargain in its own right but if you look at the tangible evidence of that service, my outgoing e-mails, that service costs me about $1.50 per day or $45 a month.

“But what about that service? “You ask. “Snail mail is a slow as … oh, you know while e-mail is instantaneous” So real mail it isn’t a fast as the proverbial projectile fired from a deadly weapon. Most of my correspondence gets to its recipient the next day, and almost always in 2 days. Is there anything I have to say that can’t wait a day or two?

I don’t know. I’m thinking that’s sort of a pretty cool superpower. Cheap, efficient, warm-fuzzy inducing. I think I should send more letters.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Stops Along Holiday Road

Michael Leave a comment

It’s not quite here but if you haven’t already, you’re probably at least in the planning stages for your summer vacation. Have you noticed how we change our vacations through the span of our life? You may be still on your great journey so let me use my life as an example of one who has already journeyed the various stages of vacationing.

I was a kid during the time that station wagons ruled the roads and roads ruled vacation travel. Our vacations typically were to places where branches from our own family tree reached. Which worked out since we became their destination on their vacations. Most summers we loaded up the family sedan and set out on a day’s drive east or west. (There were no relatives south and a day’s drive north would have taken us out of the country.) Major attractions were riding lawn mowers and shopping at department stores different from the ones at home.

The teen year vacations were pretty campy. You know- boy scout camp, baseball camp, band camp, football camp. The camp years. The locations changed but the group didn’t. Later in life these were the memories that would make you appreciate the phrase “familiarity breeds contempt.”

During the college years there were no vacations. With kids in college for a dozen years running, my parents claimed the school year to be their vacation while we would work through the summer so we could all do it again the next fall.

Adulthood finally brought the real vacations. We travelled to exotic places like Los Angeles and Boston. For us that was exotic. One was actually sunny for five days in a row and the other had people who spoke in some language that wasn’t what we were used to hearing at home. Upon the arrival of my daughter vacation spots once again resembled family gatherings. Fortunately staycations were becoming the in thing (even if we didn’t have that catchy name for them) right up until her camp years began.

There was a brief period after my daughter graduated and set out on her own that vacations became exotic again. Since I was actually working and had some discretionary income, exotic actually included locations that required air or sea travel to reach.

And that brings me to the cusp of my “golden years.” Retirement, no commitments, no worries, no work, no time clock, no shirt, no shoes, no income. Every day is a vacation. And as long as I don’t travel too far out of the city I should get to spend quite a few of them on Holiday Road.

So, plan wisely, enjoy your summer vacation, and remember… oh heck, I forgot.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Saying What You Mean

Michael 1 Comment

My television is on its last one. It is one of the first high def sets from way back when. I don’t remember exactly when way back but it was back enough that they still were stamping “HD” right on the plastic case. That was to remind you why you paid so much for it every time you looked at it, even when it is off. But I like it. Crisp picture, good sound. What more could I want in a TV? Unfortunately it has developed a bad habit of turning itself on and off and I just can’t have a household appliance with a mind of its own. So, its time has come.

Since it was raining and I had nothing else to do I thought I’d do some Internet window shopping. Once I narrowed down things to the price and size ranges both in my comfy zone I turned to the finalists’ specifications pages. I soon discovered that I apparently know little about today’s TV specifications. In fact, I’m not even sure what some of the specifications specify. VE SA (As opposed to MasterCard?) EPEAT Qualified (One-peat, Two-peat, Three-peat, E-peat?) Optical Audio (A measure of how well you can see what you hear?) Color Category (Isn’t that against EEOC rules?)

So the specs didn’t help. How about user reviews? Well…  I’ll let you decide. Mind you, these are actual statements by actual reviewers.

“In one month of ownership, we’ve gotten good image quality and sound.” Stay tuned for results from Month 2.
“I have not had the chance to familiarize myself with the many features of my new TV but hope to in the future.” But I just had to submit a review now because the world is waiting for my opinion.
“Nice appearance” I know that’s number one on my ‘Things I’m Looking For in a Television’ list.
“I ended up buying two of them for my man cave.” Maybe it’s a real cave.
“Multitasking issue notice bcoz lack of quad core processor.” Huh???
“You have to turn the sound up to here (sic) the audio.” Ah, hence the volume control.
“This product replaced an old tube square flatscreen in our bedroom.” My kind of buyer! If the old one ain’t broke, don’t fix it (yet).
“Still learning it as it’s still learning me.” And love grows.

I think I’ll just go down to the TV store and check out what’s on the wall till I find a picture that looks good with audio that sounds good. I know it’s a ridiculously old-fashioned way to buy something but, if it ain’t broke…

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

The Case of the Missing Drive Thru (sic)

Michael Leave a comment

Last night I wanted Chinese for dinner. When it comes to Chinese I’m flexible. It can be General Tso Chicken, Orange Chicken, Kung Pao Chicken, Lemon Chicken, Hunan Crispy Chicken. I’ll even make it myself. I can make a chili-based sweet hot sauce, I always have some spicy orange glaze in the fridge (don’t ask, I’ll write about that some other time), I can do a lemon sauce. I even have rice and lo mein noodles on hand so the side is just a flip of the coin. I even have a couple of fortune cookies somewhere in a cupboard. If I only had chicken.

That scuttled the whole Chinese thing. See, in addition to me not having chicken, it was raining. If it wasn’t raining I’d have been happy to drive to the nearest Chinese restaurant and pick up dinner. But since there are no drive through Chinese restaurants I was forced to eat leftover pork chops, assemble and bake a pizza, or get a Quarter Pounder. Why are there no drive through Chinese restaurants?

If you look at what we have driven through, drive thru General Tso shouldn’t be that hard to pull off. Just in the food category we have burgers, tacos, gyros, donuts, deli sandwiches, and hot dogs. We can get chicken sandwiches, chicken nuggets, chicken wings, and chicken eggs scrambled or poached. What’s so different between a chicken nugget with your choice of sauce and fried chicken pieces tossed in a spicy glaze to commemorate some long forgotten military leader from the nineteenth century.

We have drive through pharmacies, drive through banking, drive through coffee houses. There are drive in movies, drive in oil change places and drive in car washes. We live in a time that we can eat, drink, bank, be cured, and get our cars serviced and washed without ever getting wet. (You know what I mean.) It wasn’t that long ago before photography went the way of digital that we had drive through photo processing. But when it’s raining and we’re hungry for what we don’t have on hand we better not have Chinese on hand. Where’s the outrage here!? (or here?!) Am I the only one who feels it!? (it ?!)

So that’s my rant for today. Sorry it’s not as conscience raising as transgender restrooms, American presidential candidates’ lies and mis-speakings, or international internet censoring but I still haven’t gotten my General Tso.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

The Not Quite So Bad Smelling Pot

Michael Leave a comment

My last post was the bad side of a potpourri of encounters at the local retailers. This post is the better smelling side of that pot. It’s still a bit rotten but it has a less pungent odor about it.

On top of this list of things that don’t smell quite right (or if you prefer, things that make you go hmm) are shopping carts. Shopping carts themselves are not new fodder for the RRSB. Type “shopping cart” into my search bar and you can relive tales of shoppers with carts, carts without shoppers, crazy people with carts and crazy carts out to maim me. (My personal favorite that one. Relive it specifically at “Handicap Hate Crime,” (June 19, 2014)). But what put shopping carts on this particular list is that they officially are now everywhere, and some of it is intentional.

An intentional, yet questionable placement of shopping carts is now at the greeting card store. I’m ambivalent about greeting cards. I like them well enough. I like the idea of sending and getting real mail even if some far afield professional has written the sentiment. They fill a void that mere mortals like me could not and I for one feel accomplished just putting my name after somebody else’s perfectly chosen words. But I’m not so enamored with greeting cards that I feel the need to greet every occasion with a professional acknowledgement. Apparently the greeting card store people feel differently. So differently that they believe so many people will be buying so many of their cards in a single transaction that they have taken the step to make one’s shopping experience less physically exhausting and are now providing shopping cards in which to haul about your selection of selections as you go about selecting their cards. It is clearly just another overstated case of exaggerated hyperbole. Indubitably.

On the other hand, at stores where shopping with carts is advisable and often indeed a necessity, we are now faced with a decision as we pass through the doors that open automatically (and just in case you were unsure of that they are clearly so labeled but that’s a post for a different day). Of course I am talking about our basic supermarkets. At my closest go-to store the vestibule has 6 differently sized wheeled carts (one motorized) and two carry basket variants. For some reason the sporty compact models seem to be the most popular and never about when I need to pick up a dozen or so articles. Thus I am forced to wobble about poorly balanced (as if I wasn’t to be begin with) with a too small basket held in the crook of my arm or to reach deep into the void at the checkout line as I rummage for those 12 items in the bottom of the cart sized suitably to carry a month’s worth of groceries for a family of 4 (plus 2 pets). Where are all the cute little carts? They are being wheeled about by the family of four (pets safely locked in the over-sized SUV idling at the end of parking row 3) sagging under the weight of the soon to be purchased vittles and the pair of matching mini-monsters (aka 3 year olds who prefer to be at home in bed). It is clearly a case of bad choices. Several.

The last petal in our pot comes at the consideration of the local home improvement store. Today my needs that can be satisfied at a lumber, hardware, plumbing, electrical, lighting, appliance, paint, paper, carpet, and appliance store and nursery (the plant version, not the refuge for 3 year olds taking a break from mom and dad) can be met at that very nursery (the plant version). My biggest takeaways from the lawn and garden department begin at the garden half and end on my patio in the forms of plants, pots, and potting soil. Plants or seeds that will someday grow up to be young strapping plants and pots with a simple stand for the pots after the plants have been therein potted are light enough that a supermarket style shopping cart handles them with ease. But then there is that bag of potting soil. First I shouldn’t be lifting anything heavier than a five pound bag of donut holes and second I don’t want to be lifting anything heavier than a five pound bag of donut wholes. A flat bed cart that I can drag the bag of soil onto from the stack o’ bags would be ideal. But no, even though there is an entire store of wood, concrete, and refrigerator-freezers that have their own special carts, in the garden center you have only the extra-large version of the supermarket shopping cart that just ate my twelve items (no waiting) in the preceding paragraph.  It is clearly a choice of too many choices inside and not enough outside. By design.

At here you have it, today’s mélange just this side of rotten.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

For Sale

Michael Leave a comment

They tell me that you only need three things to make a car look good: black tires, shiny chrome, and clean glass. I spent this weekend getting the little convertible ready to go on the selling block. Its tires have been black ever since I’ve been buying tires for it. There really is no chrome to speak of. Now, isn’t two out of three good enough?

I have never, ever, ever, never been good at cleaning windows. That might be why I like convertibles. In the right configuration there is only one window to worry about keeping clean. It’s the one that is hardest to keep clean but that’s the way it goes for me sometimes. Oh alright, most of the times.

Why do windows hate me so much? And not just car windows. Any window is my nemesis. Even some non-windows treat me like windows. TV screens, computer displays, mirrors, eyeglasses, and would you believe even snow globes are out to make my life a living hell. I’ve tried every tip, trick, and old wife and maiden aunt tale. I’ve used cotton rags, polyester no-longer-fit-to-be-hand-me-downs, microfiber cloths, newsprint, and brown craft paper. I’ve used brand name cleaner, cheap cleaner, foaming cleaning, ammonia, water, and combinations of two, some, or all of the aforementioned. I’ve spritzed the cleaner on the glass and on the wiper. Now that I think about it, I’ve even used wipers. You know, those squeegee thingees.

I think I’m just not destined to have clean glass in my life.

But wait a minute. Let’s rewind a few paragraphs. I’m selling the little convertible? I guess so. For 15 years it has defined me: short, squat, red, and not much on top. I suppose I’ve had my fun with it and the fun I had with it was in a different place in my life. I’m getting old and can’t get in and out of it without making some very interesting noises, fortunately mostly verbal. So even though it has been brought up in more posts than any family member, it is time to set it free. If you know anybody interested in a very well maintained, low mileage, revered red roadster, drop me a line.

Buyer to clean glass.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

A Sticky Situation

Michael Leave a comment

I finally got my syrup last weekend. Regular readers know that I’ve been without my local syrup for the past few months having missed the 2015 sugaring season. But last week I was able to get to one of the local maple festivals and replenish my supply. In fact, I might have overplenished it but I’ve always said you can’t have enough pure maple syrup. I’m sure I’ve said it sometime. At least once.

Anyway, to make a short story long, I picked up a couple of jugs of some freshly prepared syrup for all my maple needs and discovered somebody changed the grading system for my syrup. You may have heard this before and if you had feel free to skip the next couple of paragraphs and go straight to the bit about food that comes right after them. Of course you do know I’ll feel horrible about it if you do.

What once was a fairly straightforward grading system has been turned into a jumble of color and taste. Some say it more appropriately describes the product. I say the big sugarers have finally gotten their way. There are still four grades of syrup. But where there used to be Fancy, Grade A Amber/Dark Amber, Grade B, and Grade C, there are now Grade A, Grade A, Grade A, and Grade A. Really, four grades all A. I can see it now – “Major Mega Marketer Maple Syrup, Now New and Improved with only Grade A Syrup!”

Really, there are now four (4!) Grade A syrups – Grade A: Golden Color and Delicate Taste (formerly Fancy), Grade A: Amber Color and Rich Flavor (Formerly Grade A Amber and Grade A Dark Amber), Grade A: Dark Color and Robust Flavor (Formerly Grade B), and Grade A: Very Dark and Strong Flavor (Formerly Grade C or Commercial (not routinely sold as is (or was) but sold to factories and confectioners for use in other products)).

Whatever you call it, I picked up some dark colored, robustly flavored former Grade B syrup (because I use it in cooking as much as over pancakes) and celebrated with a great maple dinner. You make it too.

In a small sauce pan sweat one coarsely chopped small onion, add a small can baked beans and stir in one ounce (2 tablespoonsful) syrup, a couple of dashes of hot sauce, and salt and pepper to taste. While that’s going on, brown 1 tablespoonsful of butter in a small pan, add an one-half ounce syrup. Add a single portion ham steak to the pan and baste with the butter/syrup mixture until the ham is warm through.  Remove the ham and toss a handful or spring peas in the remaining butter/syrup glaze. Serves one.

You can be a maple nut too. Replace the sugar in almost any recipe with former Grade B maple syrup substituting ¾ cup syrup for each cup sugar and reduce the liquid in your recipe by about 75%.

Four Grade A classifications. By an official department of the United States of America. Of course that department is the Department of Agriculture, the same department that keeps reshaping the food pyramid. And they are some people who worry that the next president might be Hillary or The Donald.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?