We are having a holiday party on Sunday, and in preparing for it I have been frequenting the same stores two and sometimes three times in the same week (yes, yes, I am very organized in some ways, hopeless in others). There are very few "box stores" or chains in our little town, and so the stores I have been visiting are small and locally owned, and you can tell that they appreciate the business from the excellent customer service I have been experiencing, even at this crazy busy short-tempered time of year.
Here are some examples of my shopping experiences that I just can't picture happening in the big city or at a chain store. Ok, maybe they would at some place like Bi-Rite Market, but Bi-Rite is the exception to the rule in many ways.
Case Number One: Wreath purchase at Ben Franklin
As you may have read in my previous post, I am trying to exorcise my inner Martha Stewart, and decided recently to *purchase* a wreath (the horror!) instead of lovingly crafting one by hand from the cedars in our fire road (cedars were donated today to a Women's Shelter -- thanks Martin and Neil, for doing the heavy lifting). My, but I do digress. Back to my stellar purchasing experience. It was a small thing, but so appreciated.
Now that you know that I am the type of person not only to purchase a wreath, but to purchase a fake plastic wreath, I might as well admit that I got the kind with the pre-installed LED lights. This is our nod to Christmas lights on the house this year, as we are unable to find the ones we purchased six houses ago in Portland.
Time-crunched, I pleaded with the cashier at the wreath store (Ben Franklin) for batteries to power the lights on the wreath. In order to figure out what size I needed, she attempted to pry open the battery case on the wreath, to no avail. Another cashier came to assist and after considerable effort, she succeeded. Unfortunately they did not carry the correct size battery, but the sweet cashier offered to tape the battery case loosely back together so that I did not have to ruin my nails going through the same effort she did to pry the thing open. How thoughtful!
Case Number Two: Above and Beyond Copying Service at Country Copy
Country Copy knows me well. They did my holiday party invites (and even came up with cute red envelopes instead of the boring white ones I had found). They did my soap labels (and cut them to size, saving me a bunch of work). And now I was asking them to do my song books. Basically, I threw a bunch of song sheets at them and told them I wanted copies, kind of like a little book.
When I came to pick up the copies (a full day early), not only had they folded them into nice little booklets, they found the perfect cover art and text and created little covers for them (no extra charge). I love these people!!! I'm sorry, but this really would NEVER happen at Kinko's.
Case Number Three: The Hunt for Star Anise at SPD Market
I saved the best for last. In another time-saving effort, I was trying to purchase all of the party supplies at one market. Ok, two markets, but only one *grocery store* (the ham is coming from the German deli). I found everything I needed at trusty SPD (and ran into the one requisite acquaintance while I was at it -- you can't shop at SPD without seeing someone you know). Everything that is, except star anise. A little-used spice, but an essential one for my favorite mulled wine as well as my Christmas morning citrus salad in star anise simple syrup.
I asked the nice ladies in the deli, and they didn't think SPD had it, but told me to look in the spice section (which I had just torn apart) and the bulk section (which I was 99% sure did not have it since they don't carry any spices beyond chili powder in bulk). I thanked them and moved on to the refrigerated section, planning to circle back to bulk on my way to the cashier.
Probably five minutes later, a green apron-wearing young man approached me in the household cleaners aisle. "Are you the lady that was looking for the star anise?" I answered hesitantly: "Yes?". "Oh, Ma'am, we don't have any." This clerk hunted me down on the opposite end of the store during their busiest time of the year to let me know that I didn't need to keep searching. Now that is customer service. The best part? The customer next to me told me that she had plenty of the stuff at home that she was never going to use, and I was welcome to it if I happened to be going through her part of town. !!!
I love living in a small town.
postscript: Don't worry, I found the star anise in bulk at the hippie grocery store. There will be mulled wine on Sunday.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Guest Post from Erika: On Being in Control
Here's one that Pawlene could teach me a lot about. Pawlene has very little control over her life. She chooses where she sleeps, and that's about it. She depends on us (me) to feed her, give her water, protect her from danger (Peter), and clean out her litter box (We tried to get her to "go" outside and the poor thing actually held it until we let her back in, at which point she RAN to her cat box to relieve herself. Sigh.) So she has no control over anything, and yet she seems perfectly content. Ok, we take pretty good care of her, but STILL.
I, on the other hand, wrestle daily with the issue of being in control of anything, most of all my happiness, which should be under my control, RIGHT??? Here is an example: I read an article about "creating happiness" that suggested that small things make a big difference. For instance, making your bed will give you a little burst of seratonin or whatever those happy-making chemicals are in our brains. You make the bed and then each time you walk by your neatly made bed, you sigh with happiness. All is right in the world. I figured I would give it a try. I made our bed. I made Peter's bed. I smiled and felt content. Less than 10 minutes later, Peter had pulled all the covers off of his bed. The author of that article clearly does not have a two and a half year old.
The holidays are a particularly trying time for control freaks like me. I actually felt like I had everything under control with our holiday preparations until Peter was hit by a double ear infection (no pre-school for him!) and I was flattened by a strange flu-like illness, despite the fact that I got my flu shot early in the season in order to be in control of my health come flu season. Sigh.
My low point might have been today, as I prepared to cross "Make holiday peanut brittle" off my list. First, I put my favorite Christmas CDs on the stereo to create the appropriate festive atmosphere. I quickly discovered that one of our speakers (which had mysteriously "fixed itself" while Martin was home) has blown out again. Not to worry! I figured out how to make all of the sound come out of the remaining functional speaker and cranked it. Didn't sound half bad.
Back in the kitchen, I gazed out of our picture window at the new squirrel feeder that I installed this afternoon in an effort to distract the squirrels from our BIRD feeder. Yes, I know. I was always one of those people who scoffed at feeding squirrels, but the birds have all but abandoned their feeder and I have grown attached to the furry little rodents (see previous post), so just preventing them from eating the bird food was not an option.
The squirrels are ignoring their new feeder. Instead, the new juvenile squirrel I've been watching was hanging upside down, just like mama taught him, and scarfing the bird seed out of the bird feeder, right next to the darned squirrel feeder. Ok, well I can't control squirrels. I turned to the task at hand: peanut brittle.
For my 40th birthday celebration, I made the peanut brittle recipe from the Tartine cookbook and it turned out beautifully. Froze perfectly as well (I just found some leftover in the freezer and it was still tasty!). It was also easy to make, as I remembered.
The trouble started when the sugar didn't seem to be dissolving on schedule. Impatient, I assumed that the concoction's cloudy appearance had to do with the dark corn syrup and not the un-melted sugar. Wrong. Step two is to heat the stuff up to 264 degrees. It started smoking by 220. By the time it got to 240 I had to throw the kitchen alarm in the mud room and turn the stove top fan up to high. I'm not sure the temperature ever got to 264, because I literally could not see the thermometer through the smoke.
Picture all of this happening with Bing Cosby crooning in the background and squirrels thumbing their noses at me through the picture window.
At any rate, I'm throwing out this batch of brittle as soon as it gets cool enough to handle (I tasted it, and even Julia Child would have trouble selling this as "blackened brittle").
At least I checked off (most) of the rest of my list today. Checked off or otherwise eliminated. "Make wreath" was downgraded to "Buy wreath" and then I had to move that one to another day because I was overwhelmed by the selection at the craft store. I know, I know. The holidays are not about how beautiful your house looks (thank goodness!) or how delicious your treats are. I just want to make a nice space for my family and friends to gather, and I want to feed them special treats. It's how I show love and appreciation. So my peanut brittle may not be perfect. Tomorrow I'm going to try toffee instead. And let the squirrels eat whatever they want.
I, on the other hand, wrestle daily with the issue of being in control of anything, most of all my happiness, which should be under my control, RIGHT??? Here is an example: I read an article about "creating happiness" that suggested that small things make a big difference. For instance, making your bed will give you a little burst of seratonin or whatever those happy-making chemicals are in our brains. You make the bed and then each time you walk by your neatly made bed, you sigh with happiness. All is right in the world. I figured I would give it a try. I made our bed. I made Peter's bed. I smiled and felt content. Less than 10 minutes later, Peter had pulled all the covers off of his bed. The author of that article clearly does not have a two and a half year old.
The holidays are a particularly trying time for control freaks like me. I actually felt like I had everything under control with our holiday preparations until Peter was hit by a double ear infection (no pre-school for him!) and I was flattened by a strange flu-like illness, despite the fact that I got my flu shot early in the season in order to be in control of my health come flu season. Sigh.
My low point might have been today, as I prepared to cross "Make holiday peanut brittle" off my list. First, I put my favorite Christmas CDs on the stereo to create the appropriate festive atmosphere. I quickly discovered that one of our speakers (which had mysteriously "fixed itself" while Martin was home) has blown out again. Not to worry! I figured out how to make all of the sound come out of the remaining functional speaker and cranked it. Didn't sound half bad.
Back in the kitchen, I gazed out of our picture window at the new squirrel feeder that I installed this afternoon in an effort to distract the squirrels from our BIRD feeder. Yes, I know. I was always one of those people who scoffed at feeding squirrels, but the birds have all but abandoned their feeder and I have grown attached to the furry little rodents (see previous post), so just preventing them from eating the bird food was not an option.
The squirrels are ignoring their new feeder. Instead, the new juvenile squirrel I've been watching was hanging upside down, just like mama taught him, and scarfing the bird seed out of the bird feeder, right next to the darned squirrel feeder. Ok, well I can't control squirrels. I turned to the task at hand: peanut brittle.
For my 40th birthday celebration, I made the peanut brittle recipe from the Tartine cookbook and it turned out beautifully. Froze perfectly as well (I just found some leftover in the freezer and it was still tasty!). It was also easy to make, as I remembered.
The trouble started when the sugar didn't seem to be dissolving on schedule. Impatient, I assumed that the concoction's cloudy appearance had to do with the dark corn syrup and not the un-melted sugar. Wrong. Step two is to heat the stuff up to 264 degrees. It started smoking by 220. By the time it got to 240 I had to throw the kitchen alarm in the mud room and turn the stove top fan up to high. I'm not sure the temperature ever got to 264, because I literally could not see the thermometer through the smoke.
Picture all of this happening with Bing Cosby crooning in the background and squirrels thumbing their noses at me through the picture window.
At any rate, I'm throwing out this batch of brittle as soon as it gets cool enough to handle (I tasted it, and even Julia Child would have trouble selling this as "blackened brittle").
At least I checked off (most) of the rest of my list today. Checked off or otherwise eliminated. "Make wreath" was downgraded to "Buy wreath" and then I had to move that one to another day because I was overwhelmed by the selection at the craft store. I know, I know. The holidays are not about how beautiful your house looks (thank goodness!) or how delicious your treats are. I just want to make a nice space for my family and friends to gather, and I want to feed them special treats. It's how I show love and appreciation. So my peanut brittle may not be perfect. Tomorrow I'm going to try toffee instead. And let the squirrels eat whatever they want.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Squirrel Acrobatics
Many of you (well, a few of you anyway) might be waiting for a new post from Erika that shines a weak beam of light onto the tangled knot of emotions that is motherhood. Or perhaps an update on our current living situation -- are they staying in Nevada City or what?
Well, Erika is currently concentrating on her writing for children (more on that at a later date), and so I give you:
Squirrel Acrobatics! Before you write us off as country hicks with WAY too much time on our hands, mind you a certain Michael Ward who reviews jazz and cabaret shows in San Francisco and recently interviewed John Waters was *riveted* by this phenomenon, which has become increasingly daring and complex in the last few days:
Ok, back to holiday madness.
Well, Erika is currently concentrating on her writing for children (more on that at a later date), and so I give you:
Squirrel Acrobatics! Before you write us off as country hicks with WAY too much time on our hands, mind you a certain Michael Ward who reviews jazz and cabaret shows in San Francisco and recently interviewed John Waters was *riveted* by this phenomenon, which has become increasingly daring and complex in the last few days:
Ok, back to holiday madness.
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