I Did Not Inherit the Shopping Gene…

My father used to love shopping.  He would make lists for the stores he passed on his route home and stop here and there to get the best deals.  My mother was not nearly as avid when it came to shopping.

I hate shopping.  It doesn’t matter whether it’s clothing, appliances, furniture, household goods, food, or staples.  I simply hate shopping.  Clothing is the worst, because you have to try stuff on, and nothing ever looks as good on you as it does on the hanger.  Then you have to visit multiple stores to find what you need.  I have found that if I buy most of my clothes on-line, I have much better luck, spend much less time and money, and I don’t put all those miles on my car.  I suppose if I liked shopping, none of this would be an issue. 

I have an especially hard time shopping at the Mall.  I believe this stems from an episode many years ago when I was looking for a fancy blouse and made the mistake of trying on a bathing suit.  (The funny story of that Mall adventure can be visited if you haven’t read Tiger Boy Strikes Again.)  I don’t have nearly as much anxiety when I’m shopping with a friend, but there are times since that bathing suit episode when I have suffered symptoms (running out of the Mall like my pants were on fire) bordering on agoraphobia while visiting the Mall. 

Today I went to the Mall to shop for clothes for my mother.  I HAD to, because after multiple on-line searches, I discovered that it’s almost impossible to find washable, stretch, elastic-waist pants, in a size 10 petite, short.  Forget the cheap stores, because they only have elastic waists in that size if you’re buying leggings, which are totally inappropriate for someone of her advanced age (not to mention more difficult to put on and take off).  So I spent most of my morning scouring the women’s petite section of Dillard’s.  It was easier shopping for Mom because I was shopping strictly for items…no dressing rooms, undressing, trying on stuff, re-dressing, finding something new and doing it all again.  Amazingly, I managed to find several pairs of pants for Mom!  I was thrilled.  But I was very happy to get out of there.  This was followed by shopping at Babies R Us for a shower gift and shopping at The Vitamin Shoppe.  At least they aren’t at the Mall.  Tomorrow I get to do Sam’s Club, joy of joys.

If I could do ALL my shopping on line, I would never go to a store again!

Ad asphyxiaton and Raptor...Stop the ride, I need to get off!

I’ll never forget the first (and only) time I rode Raptor at Cedar Point Amusement Park.  It was a huge, green, scary-looking coaster.  I love roller coasters, but it had been years since I had ridden one, and Raptor was not like any other coaster in my experience.  My legs were dangling, and I was hanging on for dear life.  Everyone told me to keep my head pressed back into the seat, but the faster it went, the less I was able to press my head backward.  Soon I was sick to my stomach as the ride began violently jerking my head from side to side.  I kept screaming, “Stop the ride, I need to get off!”  My daughter and husband thought it was pretty funny.  I did not.

For the next several hours, I had severe balance issues until I finally sat down and refused to move.  They went on their merry way, riding all those horrid coasters and loving it.  I learned my lesson…no more roller coasters for me.  The ride had literally upset the balance in my inner ear and likely bruised the margins of my brain during the violent head-tossing time.  I’m amazed that people can ride them over and over again without suffering permanent damage.

So here I am, the TV running as background noise while I write, and it occurs to me that this political season is very much like Raptor.  There appear to be three types of voters:  those who keep riding the coaster no matter how dangerous; those who refuse to ride the coaster because they are unwilling to take a chance; and those who give it a try, then stand back, analyze the experience, and consider all the aspects before making a decision. 

As of July, the two opposing campaigns had spent, combined, over a billion dollars for advertising campaigns to either win our votes to “their” side, or convince us not to vote for the “other” side.  I am sure the tally will be close to two billion dollars by Election Day.  I have some news for those running these campaigns.  The majority of the voters are either riders or not riders.  All the money and advertising in the world is not going to change their minds.  So you are wasting billions of dollars attempting to lure that small fraction of voters who give it a try and analyze the results.  Unfortunately for you, those who try and analyze are not easily swayed by campaign rhetoric.  Those who try and analyze do research, seek the facts, and make informed decisions.

I hate to even turn the TV on anymore.  I can’t help being asphyxiated by constant negative ads, lies, fabrications, misrepresentations, and accusations bordering on libel, with such density and rapidity that I wonder how they actually get an entire show into the reserved time slot.

Wouldn’t that two billion dollars be better spent shoring up social security, fixing Medicare, educating our kids and keeping them healthy, helping small business owners, repairing our roads and infrastructure, and creating jobs?  It’s just a thought, mind you.

I would like to propose the following measures in an effort to put this ridiculous roller coaster ride to an end. 

1)    Put a cap on campaign spending.  $10M total for each presidential candidate, not more than $150K for any congressional, senate, of gubernatorial candidate.  Less for locals.

2)    No PAC funding, no special interests.  If caught campaigning with such funds, you are automatically eliminated from running.

3)    No negative campaigning.  No name-calling, misrepresentations, or skewing information to make the opponent look bad.  Anyone caught not speaking the absolute, unvarnished, and untwisted truth about an opponent or an opponent’s record will be charged with libel and barred for life from running for any office.

4)    Lobbying will be a criminal offense.  No elected official will consort or engage in talks or business with any special interest of any kind. 

5)    Elected officials are the servants of the people, not of any other entity.  It is a privilege to serve in our government, not a license to consider yourself royalty or above the laws that the rest of the people are subject to follow.

6)    Laws will be passed one at a time.  No riders, no codicils, no additions will be added to any proposed bill.  The days of the pork barrel will be over.  If you need funding for a project, try putting it before your elected peers as a stand-alone issue and see how far you get.

7)    All elected officials will be subject to the same social security and health care as their constituents.  Having to live with the results of their actions will give them a better appreciation of what is best for the people who trusted and elected them.

It is time to get back to the kind of government that was envisioned by our forefathers…one of the people, by the people, and for the people…because the people are the important part of the democracy equation. 

 

I Welcome All Comments...

Like most bloggers, I retain the right and ability to moderate comments I receive in response to my postings.  This is something I take seriously.  I post those comments verbatim; what I receive is what is uploaded.

I don't expect everyone, or anyone for that matter, to like what I have to say or how I say it.  I don't expect people to automatically think I am witty, funny, smart, creative, intelligent, or any other complimentary adjective you might apply, nor do I expect anyone to even find what I write to be interesting.

I write for me; I share my words and opinions with anyone who feels the need to read them.  That said, I appreciate and welcome comments and criticism, both complimentary and uncomplimentary, as long as the comments are civil and fit to print.

However, when I receive comments on a blog post that contain name calling, personally derogatory remarks (about me rather than the topic of the post), or comments rife with grammar, spelling, capitalization, and usage errors that would make the comment writer look foolish, chances are I will not post those comments.  Anonymous comments containing any of the aforementioned will not be considered.  After all, if I am brave enough to post what I have to say with my name in lights, the least you can do is have the guts to identify yourself, especially if you expect to be taken seriously.

If you have a serious need to see your inflammatory comments posted on-line, I suggest you write your own blog because your words will not be housed here.

The Management at The Fractured Anecdote

"Stop it. This is hard."

I have to say, Ann Romney, just shut up and stop complaining about the course you and your husband have chosen to take.  No one forced you to go out on the campaign trail.  You certainly knew you were in for a fight.  You certainly knew that lots of people would choose not to like you or the policies you espouse.  You had to know you would be criticized.  Once again I say, you chose it, so shut up and do it or go home, but don’t complain about how difficult it is to walk the path you’ve chosen. 

I do, however, love the sentiment.  I would give anything to have told today to “stop it,” to not have had today happen.  And it was hard.  But it was not a chosen path.  It was one thrust upon us.  Good people lost their jobs today.  They did nothing wrong.  They are intelligent and highly competent.  They worked diligently and were dedicated to the company that employed them for years.  Through no fault of their own, they were eliminated.  Why?  Because when all other measures don’t balance the bottom line, it gets balanced with staff reductions.

It was an incredibly hard day for me, and I wasn’t among those who are now gone.  Wonderful friends in my group and in my building had a day so much worse than mine.  I wanted to scream “Stop it.  This is hard.”  Instead, I wept as my friends and coworkers left the building carrying unemployment information and severance paperwork. 

So shut up and stop complaining, Ann Romney.  You don’t know what hard is.

Memories of 9-11 - The Horror of the Unanswered Phone

This post is a slightly edited redux of last year's post.  It is one worth repeating.

I was running a few minutes late for work that fateful Tuesday morning, and I pulled into the parking lot just as the announcement came over the air that a passenger liner had stuck the first tower. I grabbed my purse, hurried into the building, and raced to my office. I announced to all who would listen that a plane had hit the Trade Center and everyone started searching the web for information…everyone but me. I was dialing my phone, desperate to reach my son. When the second tower was struck, I dialed faster. 

And so began the worst five hours of my life.

Chris was in New York City on job interviews. We talked before he left, and he had told me that he was very excited to have an interview at 9 a.m. on Tuesday morning in the World Trade Center. He thought it would be a neat place to work. But as we watched news shots of the towers collapsing, mortified at the thought of the massive loss of life, I tried to stay calm as Chris’ cell phone remained unanswered.

Soon the stories were coming in from the Pentagon and about the missing airliner that had come so close to Cleveland before heading toward the White House. I continued to watch in horror, but I kept dialing. My husband got through to me around 11, wanting to know if I had spoken to Chris. By that time, I was on the verge of hysteria. Needless to say, no work was getting done in our office as we all took in the destruction that was unfolding in our virtual backyard.

Around 2:30 in the afternoon, I dialed for the about the thousandth time, and he answered.

“Oh my God, Chris, where have you been? I’ve been calling you for five hours!”

“What’s up, Mom?”

“What’s up? The world is ending! Can’t you look out the windows in Newark and see the smoke?”

“I’m not in Newark.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Perry. What’s going on?”

“You don’t know? Terrorists flew planes into the World Trade Center towers around 9 this morning. They both collapsed, killing thousands. The towers are both gone. The Pentagon was hit, too. And a fourth plane crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. I thought YOU were in one of those towers. Didn't you have a job interview this morning?”

There was very long moment of silence.

“Yes, I did, but I finished my Monday interviews early, so I called the guy at the Trade Center and asked if I could come in Monday afternoon instead. He said yes. I interviewed early and headed back to Ohio. I got in around 2:30 in the morning. I didn’t want to wake you or Dad, so I went to Brian’s and crashed there. I just woke up.”

Chris was profoundly affected by that massive tragedy. I am sure that he still wonders about the twist of fate that kept him so far away from that place where he was scheduled to be at that moment.  I am eternally grateful that my son's life was spared on that awful day. 

I experienced five hours of the most intense fear I have ever known waiting for Chris to answer his phone, and I am haunted still by thoughts of the thousands of mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, and friends who spent hour after agonizing hour dialing phones that were never answered.

Nothing like a 3-Day Weekend!

It started with me and my cohorts from St. Cyprian’s Choir singing a rousing Star Spangled Banner at the final regular season game at the Captains Stadium. We sang, we ate, we cheered and did the “Tony Dance” as our Lake County Captains overcame the opposition’s lead to win the game 9-3. There was much celebration on the field, not to mention a spectacular fireworks show, as the Captains are heading directly into the playoffs. If you’ve never gone to a Captains game, you’re missing a really fun afternoon or evening.

Saturday was fraught with all the usual tasks. But later in the afternoon, I headed out to Ashtabula for the St. John Class of 1970 birthday party. It was held at the Elks Club on the Lake. I had never been there before, and since the invitation said Lake Road without specifying east or west, my trusty Tom-Tom sent me on a goose chase to North Kingsville. Fortunately, I was finally able to get a friend on the cell (thank you Pam!) and turned around and headed back toward the Harbor. Soon I was on Lake Road West and found the venue without another hitch.

We had a pretty good turnout. About a quarter of the class showed up, some with a guest, some without. Pat Kilker provided the venue and arranged for the birthday cake. Martha Roach organized the help and took care of the details. Tim McCarthy created and sent out the invitations. Tom Timonere, Mike Guerini and friends brought the old band out of the mothballs and provided the musical entertainment (they still know how to rock!). The Elks kept the food and libations coming, and a great time was had by all!

I was particularly outgoing (it wasn’t the wine, honest!), and because there were people we didn’t know milling about, I offered to just go up to someone, shake his hand, say “it’s good to see you again” and then walk away. I understand the look on the poor guy’s face was priceless, and he spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out who I was and why he didn’t remember me. I came clean before the end of the night and told him I was very pleased to make his acquaintance. 

I also dragged Pat Kilker up to the microphone and we led the class in a rousing rendition of “Gaudeamus Igitur” in honor of our Latin/French teacher. She had always called it the Song of the Latin Students. Had I known the literal translation, I might have refrained. The first two verses are as follows...the rest of the verses are rather rambling and somewhat non-sensical to my way of thinking.

Let us therefore rejoice,
While we are young;
After our youth,
After a troublesome old age
The ground will hold us.
Our life is brief,
It will shortly end
Death comes quickly,
Cruelly snatches us;
No-one is spared.

Tom and Mike were also gracious enough to let me steal the mic to do a few songs for the crowd. I’m hoping those few songs were more comforting and more enjoyable (or at least, less morbid!).

Sunday brought the annual Baumert Labor Day weekend picnic. Laurie opens her house to friends, family, and coworkers and everyone brings incredible food. We talk, play games and catch up with people who come and go all day and into the evening. I have been making a killer stuffed portabella mushroom of late and decided it might translate into a casserole. It turned out very tasty. But what I discovered later was that it made one hell of a dip with tortilla chips! I may have to bottle the stuff.

On Monday, Meredith, my cousin Diane and I went to the Ohio Celtic and International Fall Fest at the Lake County Fair Grounds. It was hot and humid, and we found shelter from the sun in the vendor buildings. We listened to the music of Mossy Moran and the Willis Clan. Meredith and Diane had Irish Nachos (made with potatoes rather than tortilla chips, of course), and I settled for bread pudding with whiskey sauce (incredibly filling and enough carbs for the month of September all by itself).

We hung around a while as I discovered that Lost State of Franklin was scheduled to play. It was good to see Scott and Tyler again. They have a terrific band. If you get the chance, check out their website, buy their CDs and go see them perform. You just can’t help but like their music.

And now, back to work!

The Serenity of Bottling Wine...

In the quest to experience less chaos and find more Zen in my life, I have concluded that I really enjoy the making and bottling of wine.   There is something calming about the bottling process.  It has a rhythm to it, like music.  Think waltz:  rinse, sterilize, drain; fill, cork, cap; heat-shrink, label, box; one, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, three.

Perhaps it is because it requires less thought, and the action of it is more by rote.  Perhaps it is because the rhythm of it reminds me of music.  Perhaps it is just the extreme and complete 180 from my normal frantic pace.  Whatever it is, it gives me a sense of calm and tranquility.  It also gives me a tasty bonus when the time comes to uncork and enjoy!

Last Thursday I bottled a batch of Amarone.  It is a double-fermented, dry, Italian red with a wonderful fruity overtone.  It is a bit raw coming out of the carboy, but 12 months from now, I will be singing its praises as it slides over my palate and down my throat like expensive silk.

When I was finished with bottling, I proceeded to make three batches of Christmas wine.  It is so easy when you make it at a great micro-winery like Your Vine or Mine in Painesville.  I mix it right there.  They take care of the day-to-day work, like filtering.  Six weeks later, I come back and bottle the wine.  Fruit wines, like the ones I make for Christmas gifts, are ready to drink as soon as they are bottled, but I like mine aged a little, so I make it in early August, bottle in mid-September, take home the spoils, and my Christmas gift list is 90% crossed off!  Where else can you find a decent gift for friends, family, and co-workers, etc. for less than the cost of a movie ticket?

No one turns down a bottle of wine.  Even if they are a teetotaler, they can re-gift it or serve it to dinner guests.  I can’t tell you how many times a wine recipient has told me that after serving my wine, a guest wanted to know where to buy a case.  That kind of review speaks for itself!  Designing your own label is fun and creative.  It gives the gift a personal touch. 

Of course, if you want to make a straight wine, like a Reisling or a Merlot, then you need to do it now to give the wine sufficient time to age before the holidays.  Otherwise you have to tell the recipient to wait until a certain period of time has passed before they can pour it for dinner.

This is the fifth time I have made “holiday” wine, and I have to say it has gone a long way toward relieving the stress of finding the perfect holiday gift.  I highly recommend Your Vine or Mine, where you can find your own little bit of Zen, and take care of your holiday gift list at the same time!