Beyond the bargain prices, thrift stores actually serve a consumer purpose that people do not often think about. They are today’s modern version of five and dime stores of youthful legend.. Except that now the nickels are greenbacks with pictures of Lincoln’s big head, and the dimes are equal to about 10 bucks.
So inflation aside, the point is that the very eclectic nature of the inventory at thrift stores makes them rather unique and special as a retail enterprise. If you go into Neiman Marcus, you will find designer clothes that few sane people will pay full price to own. When you go to your local Target, while the duds are more in our price range, the fact is that the fashions tend to be geared toward twenty somethings. That’s great for about ten years but then where do you shop?
Now mind you that is not a bad thing to specialize your inventory when you are in a retail business. In fact when you want that perfect ruby studded tack for your pet pony, it is nice to be able to go to an equestrian shop rather than to Walgreens. The clerks typically understand what’s ‘IN’ as fashion pony accessories go, and they can help you choose from a wider selection of pony products. Now these thrift store places get their inventory from EVERYWHERE and ANYBODY, so you never know what you are going to get. (If you must, you can impersonate Forest Gump) You will find high end fashion, and low end dust-catchers. But no matter what, there truly is something for everybody and in any price range.
In many cases, if your local thrift store or consignment shop is fairly organized and clean, it can actually be a lot more fun and PRODUCTIVE to shop there rather than the mall. I know the mall smells better with it’s fresh and fruity new fragrances wafting out of every open door. But just think of all the musty ‘moolah’ you are saving. If you look hard enough, you’ll be able to buy 5or 6 very usable items for the price of ONE thing at the mall. Now please don’t blame me if your closets fill up twice as fast because your money goes so much further. Just smile, pack it all up, and GIVE IT TO A THRIFT STORE CHARITY. That way, you can go there next week and buy all of your old stuff again for just pennies on the dollar!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
The problem with choice
Don’t worry there is no controversial point and counterpoint to be made here. Now, terms like ‘choice’ and ‘gay’ have been pirated into highly charged political doublespeak. But sadly for me, I’m not that hip or deep so some would call me a ‘square’ I guess. But geometry terms aside, as my Daddy used to say, “I don’t care what they call me as long as they call me for dinner.”
So for dinner, I went to a fast food joint today where you park your car in a stall and order your food from the car. Eventually the food is delivered by somebody on skates (preferably a girl – remember I’m antiquated). The problem with this is that even though I know what I want and can point to it on the car-side menu, the person taking the order can only hear me, and therefore CAN’T SEE what I want. This place has about 10 types of burritos. They have numbers for each burrito but that is for a combination meal and I just wanted a basic burrito with beans, jalepenos and veggies alone.
When the order came, of course it was wrong and was just a plain bean burrito. I checked the receipt and it WAS what I ordered but NOT what I wanted. When did the world decide that it was better to have 50 choices of stuff to muddle up the possibility of getting the ONE CHOICE I DO WANT? Even when I have guests now, I am careful to serve regular AND decaf coffee with the choice of 1% milk or almondine hazelnut Half and Half creamer. Did we really go to all this trouble 20 years ago just to assuage EVERY individual taste? As I recall when I was young, you got a choice of having coffee with grounds in the bottom of the cup or NOT having coffee at all.
Even shredded wheat has been perverted by choice. What on earth is more plain, dry, and simple than a brick of shredded wheat? Now the family might request shredded wheat in the blueberry, maple, strawberry, chocolate or cinnamon streusel frosted varieties. If that is not confusing enough, consider then that the product also comes as plain shredded, bite-sized little squares, or full- sized big double squares. Gee it’s no wonder I’m so geometrically challenged and stressed with all of these ‘square’ choices in my life – it’s enough to kill my good mood and make me really ‘UN-GAY’.
So for dinner, I went to a fast food joint today where you park your car in a stall and order your food from the car. Eventually the food is delivered by somebody on skates (preferably a girl – remember I’m antiquated). The problem with this is that even though I know what I want and can point to it on the car-side menu, the person taking the order can only hear me, and therefore CAN’T SEE what I want. This place has about 10 types of burritos. They have numbers for each burrito but that is for a combination meal and I just wanted a basic burrito with beans, jalepenos and veggies alone.
When the order came, of course it was wrong and was just a plain bean burrito. I checked the receipt and it WAS what I ordered but NOT what I wanted. When did the world decide that it was better to have 50 choices of stuff to muddle up the possibility of getting the ONE CHOICE I DO WANT? Even when I have guests now, I am careful to serve regular AND decaf coffee with the choice of 1% milk or almondine hazelnut Half and Half creamer. Did we really go to all this trouble 20 years ago just to assuage EVERY individual taste? As I recall when I was young, you got a choice of having coffee with grounds in the bottom of the cup or NOT having coffee at all.
Even shredded wheat has been perverted by choice. What on earth is more plain, dry, and simple than a brick of shredded wheat? Now the family might request shredded wheat in the blueberry, maple, strawberry, chocolate or cinnamon streusel frosted varieties. If that is not confusing enough, consider then that the product also comes as plain shredded, bite-sized little squares, or full- sized big double squares. Gee it’s no wonder I’m so geometrically challenged and stressed with all of these ‘square’ choices in my life – it’s enough to kill my good mood and make me really ‘UN-GAY’.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Exotic meat me in St. Louis
I have to admit it, we are a family of meat eaters. Actually we don’t consume animal flesh any more or less than other kinds of food but the point is we DON’T exclude the stuff. Yes, it takes work to keep up with the caloric load required to write a blog, so pretty much I am an equal opportunity eater. Yeah you guessed it , as a famous lawyer once said (almost) about my big mouth … “if the food fits you must INGEST”!
So keeping that ‘craw-motto’ in mind, one of our more favorite things to do when we wander far off to exotic places, like East St. Louis, is try different and interesting foods. All kidding aside, there is a little place there that a lot of downtown business folks flock to for crispy pig snout sandwiches in BBQ sauce. I have never seen them but I guess I could eat almost ANYTHING if it has enough bar-b-que sauce on it?
My daughter has always seemed to have inherited my ability to consume all types of foods. When she was very young, her favorite thing was to munch lemon wedges that are served with water. My family would wince as she’d suck the things dry with nary a shutter and no sugar. It also took awhile to train her to stop eating roasted peanuts, SHELL AND ALL, like they were candy. It was weird to watch and the incessant crunching disturbed the other inebriated patrons at my favorite pub.
All of us here have eaten elk, reindeer, and turkey sausage. Honestly once you mix in all of the same spices and smoke the stuff, like beef jerky and sticks, it all tastes good and is very edible even for those with less adventuresome palettes. We’ve eaten all the normal meats but less popular in Western cultures, like duck, lamb, Ostrich, Frog Legs, Gator, Fish Cheeks, eel etc. My Uncle during the Marines survivalist training, had to capture and eat raw monkey rump which when skinned looks a little too human baby-like for my taste. To this day, he says it did not affect him, but I swear I’ve caught him, MORE THAN ONCE, eating a banana and clanging little finger cymbals together over and over again.
Despite the disgust that many might feel, I too would truly like to sample dog, tiger, snake, and yes even monkey as long as they were grilled up with maybe some onion, bell pepper and a side of Chianti and yes - you know you want to say it … (ffffaaavaaaa beansss). Feel free to provide your own ‘Silence of the Lambs’ succulent sound effect as long as you get the point - I’ll try any exotic meat. The only thing is, I hope that I do not run into some BIGGER animal who feels the same way – now that is a concept I just cannot get my head around?
So keeping that ‘craw-motto’ in mind, one of our more favorite things to do when we wander far off to exotic places, like East St. Louis, is try different and interesting foods. All kidding aside, there is a little place there that a lot of downtown business folks flock to for crispy pig snout sandwiches in BBQ sauce. I have never seen them but I guess I could eat almost ANYTHING if it has enough bar-b-que sauce on it?
My daughter has always seemed to have inherited my ability to consume all types of foods. When she was very young, her favorite thing was to munch lemon wedges that are served with water. My family would wince as she’d suck the things dry with nary a shutter and no sugar. It also took awhile to train her to stop eating roasted peanuts, SHELL AND ALL, like they were candy. It was weird to watch and the incessant crunching disturbed the other inebriated patrons at my favorite pub.
All of us here have eaten elk, reindeer, and turkey sausage. Honestly once you mix in all of the same spices and smoke the stuff, like beef jerky and sticks, it all tastes good and is very edible even for those with less adventuresome palettes. We’ve eaten all the normal meats but less popular in Western cultures, like duck, lamb, Ostrich, Frog Legs, Gator, Fish Cheeks, eel etc. My Uncle during the Marines survivalist training, had to capture and eat raw monkey rump which when skinned looks a little too human baby-like for my taste. To this day, he says it did not affect him, but I swear I’ve caught him, MORE THAN ONCE, eating a banana and clanging little finger cymbals together over and over again.
Despite the disgust that many might feel, I too would truly like to sample dog, tiger, snake, and yes even monkey as long as they were grilled up with maybe some onion, bell pepper and a side of Chianti and yes - you know you want to say it … (ffffaaavaaaa beansss). Feel free to provide your own ‘Silence of the Lambs’ succulent sound effect as long as you get the point - I’ll try any exotic meat. The only thing is, I hope that I do not run into some BIGGER animal who feels the same way – now that is a concept I just cannot get my head around?
Killer Salsa
Everybody has some kind of secret recipe. Most of my friends think my most infamous recipe is my fresh tomato salsa. I actually only take partial credit for the red and bloody hot stuff because a friend of mine in California burned many an esophagi to be my test dummy hour after hour.
Now honestly, like most recipes there really is no big secret. Cooking is all about balancing flavors that YOU like until whatever you are making tastes good TO YOU! Given that, I doubt you would be surprised to know that my secret salsa ingredients include chopped Habanero peppers, garlic, cilantro, onions, and tomatoes along with an unhealthy dose of salt.
Kind of like the theory of coffee, I make salsa EXTRA STRONG. The logic goes that you can always add ‘other’ stuff to bring the flavor down a notch if you need to, but it is very difficult to go the other direction. The problem is that once people try the salsa at full strength they like to keep it that way. Plus like all extremely spicy foods, once the burning starts, as long as you keep eating, you do not give your brain long enough to think about the pain.
The problem is that at some point you HAVE TO STOP and then you must pay both now and LATER. It is kind of the law of the salsa jungle. As an experiment, my father placed some salsa on plants that the deer kept molesting. The deer quit eating the leaves BUT because they were no longer green – the salsa actually made dark brown burn marks on the plant wherever it touched. So now when my friends want my secret recipe – I serve them up the world’s greatest weed killer . . . along with a bonus baggie full of tortilla chips!
Now honestly, like most recipes there really is no big secret. Cooking is all about balancing flavors that YOU like until whatever you are making tastes good TO YOU! Given that, I doubt you would be surprised to know that my secret salsa ingredients include chopped Habanero peppers, garlic, cilantro, onions, and tomatoes along with an unhealthy dose of salt.
Kind of like the theory of coffee, I make salsa EXTRA STRONG. The logic goes that you can always add ‘other’ stuff to bring the flavor down a notch if you need to, but it is very difficult to go the other direction. The problem is that once people try the salsa at full strength they like to keep it that way. Plus like all extremely spicy foods, once the burning starts, as long as you keep eating, you do not give your brain long enough to think about the pain.
The problem is that at some point you HAVE TO STOP and then you must pay both now and LATER. It is kind of the law of the salsa jungle. As an experiment, my father placed some salsa on plants that the deer kept molesting. The deer quit eating the leaves BUT because they were no longer green – the salsa actually made dark brown burn marks on the plant wherever it touched. So now when my friends want my secret recipe – I serve them up the world’s greatest weed killer . . . along with a bonus baggie full of tortilla chips!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
This is my SCRATCHING post
I notice as I get older I find there are a lot of parts on my body that need routine scratching. I am not sure what has changed other than living in Missouri over the last ten years. When you live here during Springtime, it rains a little bit daily so for tax purposes, our mosquitoes are treated as dependents. Overall we enjoy the wildlife and I generally don’t spray for bugs - unless they occupy the immediate area around a fire hydrant.
I think my scratching issue these days is that I am more creaky, less flexible, and live only to torture my kid into facing her damaged gene pool and a destiny of perpetual discomfort. So naturally, when the urge strikes, I channel my inner Kodiak bear and back into any wall, cabinet, or furniture protrusion which can ease my notion for some scratchin’ motion.
It has gotten so bad now whenever my family or friends see me coming they routinely greet me with my favorite cocktail of pepper spray, Benadryl, and a celery stick. My wife has even threatened to get me a troop of service monkeys to keep me groomed and lice free if I keep it up. That makes me curious, whatever happened to those long, bamboo monkey-hand back scratchers everyone used to have in their house? Maybe all the wood monkeys have become extinct? Since hardware stores don’t give away yard sticks anymore, my scratching utensils have been reduced to an occasional paint department stir-stick or a greasy, foot-long hot dog.
So hopefully when I get those nit-pickin’ monkeys, after they give me the once over, maybe I can turn them loose on my daughter’s resident raccoon brood. No doubt like me, they have a few ‘tiny and Mite-y’ itchy, hitch-hiking parasitic friends that need to find new hosts. Yeah, I think everyone around here could probably benefit from a fun-filled, periodic prehensile primate preening . . . or better known in layman’s terms, as “Monkey Business”!
I think my scratching issue these days is that I am more creaky, less flexible, and live only to torture my kid into facing her damaged gene pool and a destiny of perpetual discomfort. So naturally, when the urge strikes, I channel my inner Kodiak bear and back into any wall, cabinet, or furniture protrusion which can ease my notion for some scratchin’ motion.
It has gotten so bad now whenever my family or friends see me coming they routinely greet me with my favorite cocktail of pepper spray, Benadryl, and a celery stick. My wife has even threatened to get me a troop of service monkeys to keep me groomed and lice free if I keep it up. That makes me curious, whatever happened to those long, bamboo monkey-hand back scratchers everyone used to have in their house? Maybe all the wood monkeys have become extinct? Since hardware stores don’t give away yard sticks anymore, my scratching utensils have been reduced to an occasional paint department stir-stick or a greasy, foot-long hot dog.
So hopefully when I get those nit-pickin’ monkeys, after they give me the once over, maybe I can turn them loose on my daughter’s resident raccoon brood. No doubt like me, they have a few ‘tiny and Mite-y’ itchy, hitch-hiking parasitic friends that need to find new hosts. Yeah, I think everyone around here could probably benefit from a fun-filled, periodic prehensile primate preening . . . or better known in layman’s terms, as “Monkey Business”!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
