?`s and ANNEswers

Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Fresh Food

Posted on August 4, 2011

Last month I joined a food coop. So every Wednesday I go to the pick-up point and get my fruits and vegetables from Oak Hill Farms. Oak Hill sells only what it grows, which means the produce is picked within hours of my getting it and is fresher than the local supermarket. Even when the supermarket advertises local farmers’ produce.

It’s been an interesting experience so far. I never know what I’m getting. The first week I got blueberries and sweet cherries; but Terri, one of the owners of Oak Hill Farms, said I got in on the last of those fruits. I was disappointed only because they were so delicious. They tasted like fruit did when I was a child. But no matter. The next week peaches arrived. And they too tasted like my childhood memory. Nothing like the blandness of a store-bought peach.

“It’s the tree-ripening effect,” Terri told me when I praised her peaches. Hers are on the tree until the last minute, where supermarkets purchase theirs before they have ripened, hoping they will blossom on their way from local farmers, California, or elsewhere.

Because I have to use the produce before the next Wednesday, I think we’re eating more fresh fruits and vegetables. Tomorrow, for instance, I’m making pizza with eggplant and sweet peppers for part of our dinner. I’m considering peach smoothies too. And tomatoes like you’ve never tasted.

Earl, who often prefers the canned mushiness of vegetables, is eating them too. It’s an added benefit.

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Bulletin Board

Posted on August 3, 2011

I have a sloppy habit of using the door to my office (aka the guest room) as a bulletin board. I’ve done this for years and have no intention of changing. From time to time, I look at the door and reminisce. Other times, I’m reminded of something I need to do.

In the middle of the panels is a small black sign that reads: “Life is too important to be taken seriously.” Under that is a card my son sent when we moved into this new home almost two years ago, and under that is a postcard of a windmill in The Netherlands that my other son sent when he went there on sabbatical in 2010. Each of these pieces of paper reminds me of important people in my life.

Then there’s the telephone number of the local hospital for when I need to make appointments for various tests: mammograms, blood work, X-rays. And the instructions for making a really cool crocheted scarf that I hope to master one day soon. And the dimensions for a sofa table we’re looking for. And a one hundred dollar bill.

This last is part of Earl’s family’s Christmas celebration. Each year three family members receive one hundred dollars that they are to do something for someone else anonymously. At our holiday get-together the following year the three people explain what they did. This year it’s my turn.

I haven’t decided yet, but seeing that bill on my bulletin board door keeps me thinking and wondering. How can I maximize those dollars and possibly garner a greater return for the recipient? How can I choose among all the organizations and individuals that could use the money? How can I make sure it is well spent?

There are other items on my bulletin board door: the phone number for a local hardware store, instructions on how to clean the flooring in the garage, and my former mother-in-law’s obituary. And, thankfully, there is still plenty of room left for memories and reminders. But when the door is full, I think I’ll start on the sliding closet doors next to it.

You can’t be content with a little bulletin board if it’s a mirror of your life in progress.

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The Debt Ceiling

Posted on August 2, 2011

Today is the final day that Congress has to raise the debt ceiling. As of this writing (12:30 PM Eastern time) it looks as if all the players – the President, cabinet members, the House and the Senate – are finally agreeing to a plan that many of them don’t like but will endorse to avoid last minute default.

For the past couple months the soap in this opera has beaten anything on daytime TV. Whether you chastise one branch of government or another or single out specific office holders, it’s all a sham. And a shame.

Both Congress and the President agree the debt ceiling must be raised. So why didn’t they just raise it and get down to meatier business earlier in the year? Because there is no real agreement on how to cut spending, raise revenues, and avoid this scenario again down the road. Take away all the baloney, and everyone wants someone else to bear the brunt of these hard choices.

The concept of the debt ceiling dates to 1917 when Congress gave the government broader flexibility to borrow and spend money up to a predetermined amount. Since then, the debt ceiling has been raised almost one hundred times, which averages to at least once a year regardless of whether the Republicans or the Democrats are in charge. It doesn’t say much for the budgeting habits of either party. And it supports what philosopher George Santayana said: “Those who do not learn from the past are bound to repeat it.”

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Bad Idea

Posted on August 1, 2011

“You don’t have to sign; it’s under twenty-five dollars,” the supermarket check-out clerk said chirpily. It was as if she were waving me through a border check-point because I looked honest, so she didn’t ask for my passport. Believe me, I wished I could have shown the appropriate document and signed my name.

All over the country merchants are giving passes to customers up to a certain dollar level. At my local Martin’s supermarket, it’s twenty-five dollars. At the local Walgreen’s it’s fifty. Regardless of the dollar amount, it’s a bad idea.

Here’s the scenario that will happen more frequently, especially with the holidays approaching. Sneaky Fraudster obtains a card belonging to someone else. He or she goes to merchants who don’t check signatures, whether it’s the twenty-five dollar level or the fifty-dollar level. Fraudsters are savvy enough to know the limit, so they purchase items with a stolen card that is under the dollar amount that requires a signature.

Then Upstanding Customer receives the monthly bill and discovers all kinds of minor purchases. He or she contacts the credit card in question and disputes the charges. Says the purchases are invalid. The credit card company says Upstanding Customer isn’t responsible for such fraudulent use and promises to remove the charges from the bill until further investigation determines their validity. Upstanding Customer feels justified, even with a few pieces of paper to fill out and send to the credit card company.

But here is what happens behind the scenes. Credit Card Company certainly isn’t going to just write off the monies in question; instead, it contacts Local Merchant and asks for proof that the person who used the card was or was not Upstanding Customer. In the past, a signature was the best proof. I’m sure you see where this is going.

Now Local Merchant can’t produce a signature, so Credit Card Company takes back the money for the product that it had given Local Merchant in the first place. Not only is the merchant out the money, but also the product.

When I complained to management at my local Martin’s Supermarket, I was told, “Customers love not having to wait in line.” I’m sure they do, but stop and consider how Local Merchant is going to recoup the lost money and product? It will hike prices and Upstanding Customer will pay more in the end. This impacts both customers who actually are in possession of their cards and those who are the victims of fraud.

So, doesn’t it make sense to spend a couple minutes in line to prevent Sneaky Fraudster from pulling a fast one?

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Cupcake Wine, Revisited

Posted on July 31, 2011

This morning when I ordered my Starbucks® I remembered to revisit the display of Cupcake Wine that piqued my interest a couple days ago. It was still there, lounging with those carb-y breads and having a good time of it. There were fewer bottles than before, but I saw that Merlot was still waiting to be adopted into a nice home. I also noticed that there was a little sign promoting both Cupcake Vineyards and chocolate vodka.

Now I’m a vodka drinker, although I don’t like all the various flavors that have come to the fore. I prefer vodka as it was meant to be drunk. Over ice with limes. That said, chocolate vodka sounded interesting.

However there were no bottles in the Cupcake Wine display, so I headed to the liquor department to see if the chocolate vodka had joined the ranks of Absolut, Grey Goose, Chopin, or even the lower priced Gordon’s or Popov. But no luck.

Returning home with my latte, I headed for the Internet and Googled® Cupcake Vineyards. Sure enough, some vintner has named his or her grape orchard and wine press operation “Cupcake.” His website proves it. I raised the question before what it meant; I’m no closer to an answer. Is the owner’s name Cupcake; is this a term of endearment for his wife? Or his girlfriend? And where is the mysterious chocolate vodka?

I’m not sure this deserves another blog, but I’ll keep an open mind as I purchase my lattes which, for the record, I like as well as vodka with limes in the end.

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Last Day

Posted on July 29, 2011

Today was my last official day on a job I’ve held for seven years. It’s bittersweet, but then leaving any job where you give your all has the taste of vinegar and honey with a host of memories thrown in for leavening. This one was no different, but maybe it was. My boss was my son.

Over the years, one issue kept cropping up. It was whether an employee or his Mom worked for the company. I lobbied for the former, since I consciously did not wear my Mom-hat to the job. That meant I never consciously pulled familial rank, never said he should listen to me on the basis of personal relationship, never made a decision based on his being my son. It meant I bit back tears from time to time, since I’d worked in the business world longer and could see the outcome of some of the decisions he and his partner made.

I don’t think he saw it that way. Maybe one’s Mom is too great a force, especially because you’ve had a special relationship through the years. Maybe one’s Mom shouldn’t be that organized and detail oriented. Maybe the fact that one’s Mom believes in collaborative management when the prevailing style of the organization is different was too frustrating for both parties. That said, I still had a wonderful time managing the finance department for those seven years.

Has my job impacted our family relationship? I hesitate to put it in writing, but – yes! – I believe it has. Our conversations have been reduced to talking about business, to being guarded with each other with what’s really going on, to mentally picking on each other’s foibles instead of appreciating each other strengths.

Perhaps now things can change. Perhaps if Mom is no longer a presence in the company, she and her son can work on their personal relationship. If not, there are no regrets.

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Cupcake Wine

Posted on July 28, 2011

During my regular morning visit to the local supermarket I spied a display of “Cupcake Wine.” It was located in the fresh bread section. I walked by quickly as I was on a deadline at home and didn’t have time to loiter.

But what I saw in those mere ten seconds was confusing. There was this rack of wine bottles, all tilted upside down, with a sign that read “Cupcake Wine.” And it was surrounded by baguettes, hard rolls, special dessert cakes, and a croissant or two.

So . . . what did it mean? Was it wine made of cupcakes? Or wine to be shared with cupcakes? Or with hard rolls? Or simply a silly name to compete with wines named “Flip Flop” and “Dancing Bear?”

I don’t have the answer, but I plan to return tomorrow morning and, after taking that first, special sip of my latte, linger by the display and come up with answers.

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Spoiled

Posted on July 19, 2011

If the Midwest is called the breadbasket of the country for its wheat fields and other farming staples, then southwestern Michigan should be called the fruit and vegetable stand. From May through October, little stands sprout all over the county, beckoning the shopper to buy locally and enjoy.

Today I bought tomatoes that were on the vine yesterday, instead of going to the supermarket and buying ones that were probably shipped green from out-of-state. I bought an amazing cucumber too

In fact, I’ve just joined a local coop where I’ll get fresh fruits and vegetables once a week from a local farmer who’s tired of shipping product to Florida for repackaging before it’s sent back to Michigan. I salute him.

Suffice to say I’m becoming spoiled with all this produce in my back yard. In fact, when corn arrives we always ask the owner of the roadside stand if it was picked “this morning.” We don’t want it if it wasn’t.

How spoiled is that?

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Alitalia Sucks

Posted on June 20, 2011

I’m usually a rational person; I try to understand the other side’s point of view. But I’m losing patience with Alitalia. And I’m not even the passenger on the plane. Rather, I’m the Mom.

My son Kevin was to have flown to Italy in May via Alitalia, but with a Delta imprimatur. Forget the imprimatur. It doesn’t mean anything. Kevin got to O’Hare on the appointed day, in the proscribed three hours early, and then waited an additional seven hours to board the plane. It eventually took off, but not without more delays. Kevin’s friend, who was taking a different flight that left after my son’s original departure, was at the gate in Rome to meet him.

Okay. Any airline can have a bad day.

Today my son was to fly home from Rome, arriving in Chicago at 1:30 PM local time. He said he’d call me. Four o’clock passed. Five o’clock went by. Even with the hour time change between Chicago and where we live, this didn’t equate.

So I found his flight information and checked in to see what happened. Surprise! Surprise! This time there was a ten hour delay in Rome, getting Kevin into O’Hare at 1:06 AM local time.

Do you know what it’s like to arrive at an airport in the dead of night? To clear customs when everybody, passengers and officials alike, are sleep deprived? To find lodging? In fact, to find a cab. It’s ugly.

My question is: What are the odds that one person taking flights a month apart experiences such horrendous delays? Apparently they’re pretty good if you’re flying Alitalia.

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Can’t Wait

Posted on June 17, 2011

Years ago, I reveled in the long days of summer when the sun didn’t set in Michigan until almost ten o’clock. It still doesn’t set until then, but I’m less enamored. Why this change?

I’m not sure, except perhaps it’s due to circumstances. Back then, my children still went to bed at eight o’clock, even with daylight infusing their bedroom windows. And I had a couple hours of daylight to garden, relax on the patio, or chat with neighbors on the front walk. I never felt sleepy before the late evening news.

It’s different now. I can enjoy my garden in the middle of the afternoon without worry. I can have a drink on our patio at 5 PM without children clamoring for attention. I can chat with neighbors anytime we come upon each other.

But that really isn’t it. Rather, I’ve learned to love the shorter days of autumn and winter; it took a while but I cajoled myself with the idea that early sunset meant less attention to the grey globs that cover southwestern Michigan in winter. And I began to look forward to using those evenings for literary benefit.

I think I want shorter evenings here in the dead of June because I love to sit by our faux fireplace and read. It’s harder to read when the sun is high and I chastise myself for not being outdoors.

We’re still shy of the “longest” day of the year by four days. Yet, when it comes I’ll enjoy the longevity of the moment. At the same time, I’ll look forward to winter’s evenings and wonderful books.

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