Black Friday? Bah, humbug!

I guess I led a sheltered childhood.  Living in a rural, remote area in Colorado, we were 80 miles from the nearest mall.  So all the hoopla about "Black Friday" never really made its way onto my family's radar screen.

When we were still newlyweds, I worked as a secretary for a small chain of bed-and-bath stores while Mr. Official finished up his degree.  I remember being surprised and dismayed to hear that I would not enjoy a long holiday weekend with my in-laws, but instead we would have to return to Knoxville on Thanksgiving night so I could be at work bright and early on Friday morning.  My introduction to Black Friday was a shock to my sensibilities, to say the least.  And maybe that's why I feel the way I do about this dark day.

To be blunt, I resent the demands it places on retail employees, even more so now that stores are opening on Thanksgiving day or at midnight.  Those employees are giving up their holiday for you, Black Friday shoppers.

And I question the hype and hysteria retailers have created among the rest of us, although arguably, no one has to buy into this madness.  Shoppers are giving up family time, too - and in exchange for what?  To rush around trying to outwit, out-maneuver, or simply out-push the throng of other avaricious bargain hunters?

It is not our finest hour as mankind.   (Maybe calling it "Black Friday" is appropriate after all.)

If you came away from Black Friday patting yourself on the back for the deals you snagged, even after factoring in the stressful hours you stood in line or jostled for a parking spot, I hope you'll consider how many employees were present in each store you visited and the hours they gave up with family just so you could shop on Thanksgiving or some dreadful hour on Friday.


It is my hope that we can step back and ask ourselves if this frenzy really makes sense, or if there's a saner alternative - like having the stores open at their regular time- or even opening late - on Friday.

*Employees could enjoy the entire Thanksgiving day and evening with their families.
*The sales and deals would be exactly the same.
*The crowd would be exactly the same - if you're a Black Friday shopper, you'll be there when the doors open, whether it's midnight or noon.

As with my feelings toward a Sunday day of rest, I'm not advocating any laws or government interference with private companies - they should be able to open their doors when they choose.

But as consumers, we can vote with our wallets and feet. Let's sustain and reward small businesses with our purchases - and not just on Black Friday.  If enough people refused to patronize the stores during these ungodly hours, they would return to a more sensible opening hour - they are in the business of making money, and they won't do something if it isn't profitable.

As for me, I'll leave the ruthless bargain-hunting, parking space fights and crowded stores to those who are willing to put themselves through the ordeal.  And I extend my sympathies to the retail employees who are forced to participate in order to have their jobs.

Happy (?) shopping,

Saving Christmas: the gifts are tagged and bagged

Confession: as my blog name bears witness, I am a dilettante:  a dabbler in many things domestic, but flighty, flitty, fun, and even a little flaky.  If you were looking for that super-focused, relentlessly driven to pursue perfection blogger's blog, you're in the wrong place.  I can be over-organized one minute, and a disaster-looking-to-happen the next.  I can be crafty some days, but if the project doesn't get finished while the wind is in my sails, it might stay unfinished for a long time.  Maybe even forever.  I'm more like Tigger than Pooh.  My interests vary widely and my attention span is shorter than I am (and that's saying something.)

Which may explain why I'm suddenly thinking about Christmas before my best and favorite holiday (Thanksgiving) has come and gone.

I agree with the turkey.  No trees, no red-and-green until next week!

But this isn't just a case of me jumping the gun, or getting my holidays out of sequence.

Last year, Mr. Official did a 3-day stint in the hospital right before Christmas and it taught me a hard lesson about procrastinating on important aspects of the holidays - like um, shopping for gifts.   This year, we're headed down to the Florida Keys mid-December, so I'm even more motivated to get my ducks in a row early, even though this early bird stuff makes me feel like a duck out of water.  Yeah, I'm wearing out the hunting metaphors.

So now I'm going to let the cat out of the bag.

Spill the beans.

And give myself a pat on the back.

Because for the first time in a long time (oh, heck, let's be honest:  first time EVER, maybe????), my Christmas shopping is nearly completed (I have 4 or 5 items left to purchase) and it's not even Thanksgiving.  I started knocking it out with online purchases several weeks ago, and on Saturday, I declared open season on the outlet malls in Gatlinburg.  Unlike most of the rest of the world, I don't do Black Friday shopping (for a plethora of reasons), and by the time we return home from our Thanksgiving trip, we're knee deep into December and I feel I'm way behind before I even start. 

Anyway, the tagged-and-bagged gifts are cooling their jets in the back of my closet, and I can now resume our regular Thanksgiving programming.  In case you're wondering, my idea of a perfect "Black Friday" is a late, leisurely breakfast and then a few hours of ambling through some local stores and antique malls.  I'll think warmly of all of you trying to outgun each other from store to store.  As for me, I won't be enduring crushing crowds or interminable lines to stand in - I might snag a few good bargains or just enjoy browsing.

Starting next Monday, I'll share my weekly plans and ideas I'm using to save Christmas - and my sanity - in the hopes I can help you keep yours, too.

I adore this season with my whole heart, and I believe we can pull it off with our own individual style, grace and aplomb, without setting unrealistic expectations for ourselves.  Some realistic prioritizing and a little ingenuity can give us the sweet rewards of a joyful low-stress holiday that we actually remember with fondness.

If you haven't done your Christmas shopping yet, here's a sanity-saving tip I found helpful this year. I carried along a pack of big, bright Post-it notes and a marker, along with my trusty list of recipients and gift ideas.  As each purchase was completed, I slapped a sticky note with the recipient's name on the gift receipt (be sure to ask for those if there's any chance a return is in order), and tucked them both in the bag with the gift.   When we got home, everything was consolidated and everyone has one bag with all their stuff.  I don't know about you, but we have several family members with similar tastes, styles and sizes; the intended recipient can get a little fuzzy when we start the gift-wrapping frenzy.


Looking for something to get you in the true spirit of the holidays?  I heartily recommend Grisham's 2001 novel "Skipping Christmas" as a timely read this time of year.

The book is far better than the movie "Christmas with the Kranks"  and it articulates what many of us have felt about the approaching holiday season.  I don't advocate skipping Christmas, but I do want to enjoy it it the way it was meant to be celebrated, instead of dreading it.  So how do YOU save - and savor - the holidays?

Happy Monday,

One thing leads to another...

Last week, I found myself gravitating toward the Le Creuset store while swimmer girl and one of my "other daughters" (friends of swimmer girl that I happily adopt on a temporary basis now and then) were prowling through yet another boutique.

I love my Lodge Dutch oven. (Remember?) But even I know the gold standard of Dutch ovens is Le Creuset - unless you are a Staub fan. They're both made in France and both makers are extremely proud of their products, which is reflected in their hefty price tags. I had no plans to buy another Dutch oven, but it is fun to look. (I took a long gander at the Staubs while in Williams-Sonoma a few days later. Again, killing time while the girls bushwhacked their way through the labyrinth of shoe stores and other shops.)

Anyhoo, back to Le Creuset. As soon as the clerk heard me utter the word "Lodge," she put on her best French-American accent and tsk-tsk-ed me for buying a cheap Chinese import. (Yes, Lodge cast iron is made in South Pittsburg, Tennessee, but their enamelware processing is in China, thanks in large part to the laws that make it impossible to manufacture them on American soil.) I gently rebuffed her overtures and promised that if/when my Lodge fails, I will be looking to upgrade to the real deal. In the meantime, I'll live with the chips in the rim of my Dutch oven.

I found two treasures while I was there. One was a marked-down jam/marmalade jar in "flame" (aka ORANGE) 

and a small cassoulet in the same screaming shade:

In generalities, I was familiar with cassoulets and the distinctive shape of the dish they are prepared in (and why), but I bought this cute little number as a small side bowl for vegetables or relish.  (Another terrible faux pas in the eyes of the Le Creuset store staff, I'm sure.)

After I left with my purchases tucked away, I started contemplating cassoulet.

And the fact I've never made one.

With weather starting to turn cooler, it's more conducive to heavy, rich dishes full of meat and beans. So I did a little research, satisfied myself there is no "right" way to make one (it's a regional food, much like gumbo or chili - everybody's got their opinion as to what ingredients are authentic and which are blasphemy.) I'm ready to take a stab at it for Sunday's big meal.  Lardons (salt pork), chicken (because you can't find ducks, let alone duck leg quarters in just any old grocery store), cannellini beans, chorizo and all the spices are on hand to give it a whirl.

And...I will cook it in my Lodge Dutch oven, which surely elicits a "Sacrebleu!" somewhere in the universe.


Happy cooking,

Day of rest, week 4: An exception to every rule

This week is fall break for us.  As we have done for several years, we're soaking up the last bit of summery goodness on the white sand beaches of the Gulf of Mexico.

Yesterday began with worship, then we headed toward the impossibly beautiful, pastel tinted town of Seaside for an afternoon of sightseeing, boutique rummaging, and...eating out.

Yes, I know.  It was Sunday:  my self-declared day of rest from consumerism.  And there I was, shopping and dining with everyone else.

A most fitting sign outside one of the shops that was closed for the day.

Seaside's post office stood quiet and still, too.

What can I say?  My goal is not to foist or bind this "day of rest" idea on anyone, nor am I advocating we return to laws that would force compliance.  It is only to gently encourage all of us to give some serious consideration to taking a weekly break from the consumer "rat race." And - if enough of us were to do it on a regular basis - it might eventually lead to retail store owners giving themselves and their employees the gift of a weekly break, too.

Our regular programming will resume next Sunday.  But for today, we're honoring a tradition that swimmer girl and I look forward to from the minute we begin firming up our itinerary for the annual trip.  And some traditions are worth honoring, even when they hang in the balance against other goals and ideals.

Happy fall,

Day of Rest, Week 3: A close call

Once again, I managed to keep us out of restaurants and stores on Sunday, but it took some mental gymnastics.

I had planned roast beef for Sunday's meal, but I didn't think to check my stockpile of ingredients I typically pour over a roast when it goes in the slower cooker.

Early yesterday morning, I pulled the beef from the refrigerator and set up the crockpot. All the while, I was mentally congratulating myself for having planned ahead.

I then reached in the pantry for a can of cream of mushroom soup and pulled out...nothing.

Hmmmmm.

In my head, I heard my own big lecture about making foods from scratch, as my hands groped vainly for a can of soup in the empty spot where it wasn't.  To be honest, it had been a while (a long while) since I made a roast without relying on the tried-and-true canned mushroom soup and powdered onion soup mix blend to smother it and keep it moist while cooking.

In my near-panic, I remembered I had ordered some roast beef seasoning from Penzys.  And my mind began a quick inventory.  Onions, check.  Celery, check.  Carrots, check.  Garlic, check.  Mushrooms, check. But I was still at a loss for a liquid. Until I reached in the refrigerator for the vegetables, and remembered I had a large tub of beef base just sitting in there, waiting to be mixed with some water and used.

I seared the roast, sprinkled it with seasoning, piled the vegetables in the bottom of the crockpot, placed the roast on top, then covered it with mushrooms and some minced garlic, then poured a cup of beef stock over the top.  Mission accomplished, and a lesson learned about keeping fresh ingredients on hand.  Maybe I can even "can the can" and stop relying on condensed soup, one recipe at a time. (Canned cream soups are a handy "binder" in a lot of recipes, but as yesterday's exercise proved, they aren't necessary - especially if I keep stock and vegetables on hand.)

I didn't have any green vegetables (gasp), so we carbed our way through lunch with sides of Dijon-crusted roast potatoes and macaroni and cheese (made with  a different shape because...you guessed it, we were out of elbow mac.)

Just three weeks into this experiment, it is already becoming easier and more natural to plan ahead for Sunday, so we're not left at loose ends when we leave church.  It takes effort to be creative and flexible when something isn't on hand, and it will take some convincing for our children to completely warm up to this idea.  Years of routinely eating out for lunch (and often dinner) on Sundays is deeply etched into our family's instincts.

But I think we'll succeed.  And on another positive note, I managed to get us through a full 7 days with only one trip to the store.  This week's shopping trip will be a doozy, but it was nice to make it an entire week without an emergency raid on the grocery store.

Happy Monday,

Day of Rest: Week 2

We successfully avoided another Sunday of consumer-driven activities.  It was a close shave:  Mr. Official made tentative plans to attend the Titan's game, but he changed his mind at the last minute.

Would I have counted that as a consumer activity?  I guess so, but I can't muster much sympathy for professional athletes working nights and weekends, all things considered. They do refer to what they do as "playing" a game, right?

I also had to make sure I had everything on hand to feed 30 +/- teenagers Sunday night.  I thought I had all my bases covered on Saturday, but I failed to check my inventory of disposable dinner plates.  So some of the guys (who were polite enough to make up the end of the line) had to use smaller plates.  Sorry, fellas! )

In other news, I managed to whittle down my weekly grocery dashes from the average of five (or more) trips per week. (I know...it's embarrassing to admit I am that disorganized most weeks, but it's the truth.)

The ultimate goal is to make just one trip per week, but that's going to take some serious behavior modification for me.  Last week was a three-trip week, and each trip was very focused:

1. Monday morning to get that all-important cream for my coffee, plus the bulk of the weekly groceries.
2. Thursday to snag some mushrooms for soup (really thought I had a can on hand, but I didn't, and the soup definitely needed them.)
3. Saturday's trip to stock up for Sunday night.

This week, I'm vowing to not let my shadow darken the grocer's doorstep more than twice. Gulp. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

So what did we eat on Sunday since we didn't eat out? Sunday lunch was humble tunafish sandwiches; Sunday supper for the group was pulled pork sandwiches, potato salad, chips, topped off with apples and caramel dip and molten brownie cakes (recipe forthcoming), with lemonade and sweet tea to drink.

Are you contemplating a weekly "day of rest" for your family and wallet yet?  I'll keep posting our progress - whether we succeed or stumble - in the hopes it offers some encouragement to others.

Happy resting!
 

Day of Rest: Week 1

A week ago, I encouraged us all to try to give up one day of commercialism each week.

For our family, that target day of giving our local merchants a rest is Sunday.

So how'd we do?

Bottom line:  we did great.  But it wasn't without some angst.

On Saturday morning, we were getting ready to head to Knoxville for the big game. "I need to run to the grocery store before we go," I announced. Mr. Official replied, "For what?" (In the south, we don't just ask "why?"  We ask "for what?" which means the same thing as "what for?" but avoids that pesky dangling preposition.)

I said that I needed some items for the next day's menu. He assured me we would be back in time to hit the grocery store before bedtime. As luck would have it, he was overly optimistic - it was 10 pm before we rolled back into town.

I confess my first thought was I could slip to the store at the crack of dawn. Ugh.

Or I could go after lunch. Or we could just break down and eat out. More ugh.

Then I began to consider what I thought I "needed" from the store, and if I could rearrange our menu plans a little and avoid the trip.

I could and we did.

We'll have yesterday's pork chops tonight. And the chicken that was waiting to be cooked has been cooked and eaten in the form of chicken chile verde and cornmeal dumplings. (Recipe is coming soon, but I won't recommend cooking it in the crockpot.)

So what did we do instead of eating out? For starters, we had leftovers for lunch, which was a nice way to use up a lot of odds and ends hanging out in the fridge. And then - since I was feeling so virtuous (downright smug even), I plunged into multi-tasking: laundry, cooking, and floor maintenance.  You know - vacuuming and mopping. All the things I didn't get done on Saturday. For some strange reason, the laundry and cleaning fairies don't show up unless I'm around to make sure they get their jobs done.

I then put dinner in the crockpot before we headed off to evening services.

And so we get to start the work week with a rotated and flipped mattress, fresh linens, and a fairly clean house.  And a clear conscience, since I successfully dodged the clutches of consumerism for the day.  Mission accomplished, plus some lagniappe.
  
I did have to hit up the grocery store bright and early, right after this morning's run. Because I don't do mornings without coffee, and I don't do coffee without cream. Hopefully I also got everything else I need for this week (I am also working on cutting down on multiple trips to the store during the week, since a quick dash for a few items often turns into a bigger and more-expensive trip than I planned.)

Happy Monday!

The great laundry detergent mystery

A couple weeks ago, swimmer girl and I were making a tactical strike on my favorite-place-to-loathe-shopping: WalMart. (To all my friends and family who work at WM: I love y'all. But as a rule, the stores are just too big, and our local one has...well...declined in quality. Friendly folks work there, which makes it tolerable once I get my items rounded up.)

Anyway.

On my list was laundry detergent. Swimmer girl and middle son have eczema, so our laundry detergent must be free of dyes and other allergens. The front-loading washer means it must be marked with that little HE symbol. The list of choices is narrow. It's usually All Free & Clear or Tide.

Have you seen me?

I picked up a jug of All. I'm sure I did. Swimmer girl backs me up - we got the jug.

When we got home, I was pressed for time so I unloaded only the perishables and left the rest in the car overnight.

When I finally got around to bringing the other stuff in, you guessed it:  no detergent.  I didn't even miss it at first.  A few days passed and someone mentioned we were running low.  I asked if there was a new jug in the laundry room - nope.  So I chalked it up to absent-mindedness. I thought I bought some, but apparently not. No mystery there, right?

But a few days ago, as I was pulling onto the road that leads to our house, a jug of detergent was sitting on the edge of our property. Same brand, same size as what I thought I purchased.

A little worse for wear...and about 1/4 gone. Middle son said he found it on the bank of the pond when he mowed that day; he set it out on the road in case someone came by for it. He didn't know I was missing an identical jug of the stuff.

Aside from the laundry fairy, there are two possible explanations - one is a little disappointing and the other is highly implausible.

1) Someone "borrowed" it out of my car, had a crisis of conscience and returned it.
2) By some weird stroke of epic coincidence, a jug of the same brand and size fell out of someone's vehicle going around the curve and it toppled down the slope toward the pond.

Shrug. At least I have detergent again. And I guess I'll start locking my car at night.

Happy laundering,

Birthday Week: Basking in the aftermath

After all three birthday cakes were consumed (a big thank you to Mr. Official's co-workers who helped us with that last hurdle) and the special cake plates and servers were put away, I had one remaining loose end:  take middle child back to the store to swap out some shorts he got.  Bad me, I bought soccer shorts instead of basketball shorts.  Who knew?

While he was looking for satisfactory replacements, I wandered around the home section and what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a miniature....no, not a sleigh or any tiny reindeer.  Christmas has taken over Hobby Lobby already, but not at Marshall's - at least not yet.

It was even better than that.

It was....

a miniature cake pan!

Meet the baby pan

This pan is almost 8 inches tall but only 3 3/4 inches across, compared to the typical cake pan, which is 2 inches tall and 8 inches wide.  Almost completely reverse proportions.  See why I was so excited?

See how tall and small it is?

No?

Really?

Keep reading...maybe you'll catch the cake pan fever.

When I saw it, I snatched it off the shelf before anyone else could.  (And I had some women eye-balling it as I strolled by.  Sorry ladies - I saw it first.)

This is quite possibly the cutest cake pan ever.  And it was a whopping $5.99.

The bottom comes out, but it's not a springform cheesecake pan - I have a set of those, of course... 

The cheesecake trio

What a fun time I can have now, trying my hand at some old-fashioned chiffon cakes and other recipes that need the taller shape.

Angelfood...yum

And I can test a small batch of batter without worrying about who's going to eat all that cake, like I do with my big ol' angelfood tube pan.

I bet I know what you're thinking.

Because I'm thinking it too.

Given that this is only a sampling of my collection of cake pans, and does not count all the square and rectangle, metal and glass cake and jelly roll pans, or my (rather extensive) collection of cupcake tins and silicon liners (big and small, I got 'em all), I think I need to find a Baker's Anonymous meeting and go introduce myself.

"Hi, my name is Terry and I really like to bake."

Yeah, I'll get right on that - just as soon as I decide if I've got a submission-worthy recipe for this:

Oh and yes, in case you're wondering...the birthday boy found some shorts that will come down to his knees.  Everyone came home happy.

Happy caking,

Binge and purge: Can it ever be a good thing?

By no means is this post intended to make light of a tragic and serious medical condition.  Those who binge and purge to control their weight need our compassion and our encouragement to get help and get healthy.

But this isn't about that.  It's about a shopping binge.  And a closet purge.  (Or, as the Thrifty Decor Chick calls it, a "decrapification.")

First the binge.

I recently used my lunch hour to look for a new dress for a special dinner.  Tried on a few at one of my favorite chain boutiques,  but--of course--the ones I liked had price tags with numbers that hovered just under two Benjamins apiece.   Yes, I know that's nowhere near designer dress prices, but I'm an ordinary girl living in an ordinary world.  And speaking for ordinary girls everywhere, it makes us squirmy to pay full price for a dress we're going to wear for a season or two.    So I hit a nearby department store and hit the motherlode:  scads of winter and spring dresses in my size that I liked, all marked down or on sale.  Tried on a dozen or two, sent "how do I look?" cell phone pics to swimmer girl and with her help, selected four finalists.

Not naming any names, but....

The sum total for the quartet was about the price of one dress at the other place, which I still heart.  Just not at full price.

 So I felt pretty thrifty, although I guess I could have bought just one dress.  However, in my defense, experience has taught me when I find a dress (or dresses) I like at a price I like, buy it (or them.  Because it could be a long dry spell before that happens again.

Then the purge.
Our walk-in closet is in the space our former "master" bathroom occupied.  It is 40 inches deep and  80 inches long.  (When we added on a new bath, we made the new shower nearly as large as the entire old bathroom.)  Moving the closet to this space, as diminutive as it is by today's closet standards, freed up another 2 or 3 feet in the bedroom, and made the former wall of closet doors a usable wall.

However, as much as I love the new closet, its size regulates how much clothing we can hang (and therefore, hang onto.)  I'm just not a closet stuffer, so Mr. Official and I each have 80 nice wood hangers, and a self-imposed rule: if you don't have any extra hangers when a new item comes home, then something has to go to charity.  Simple as that.  That's where the purge came in.  The four new dresses meant four somethings had to go.  I took the opportunity to give away some less-favorite dresses and blouses before they become completely out-of-fashion (another rule of mine - why wait to give it away until no one else would be caught dead in it?)  Then I keep the purge going and went through all my clothes - sweaters, socks, t-shirts, nightgowns, everything.  Including several pairs of shoes that I had to admit I just don't wear any more.  Basically anything that was too big, or too tight, or pinches or binds, or otherwise makes me regret wearing.  They were all targeted for elimination.

When I was done, four bags were filled with items to donate, and one bag was filled with tired, grungy, unmatched, torn and otherwise unwearable items.  Off to the trash with it, because I don't need any more rags. My efforts motivated Mr. Official, and he cleared out three bags of clothing to donate, too. (Which is good, because sometimes he sneaks his dry cleaning hangers into his side of the closet, so he won't have to get rid of anything. Yes, that's called cheating.)

So I guess the conclusion is that an occasional binge and purge can be a good thing.  As long as we're talking about keeping our wardrobes updated and passing along the things we no longer need or use.  Speaking of which, I think I hear the linen closet calling for some purging, too...

Happy decluttering!