Survey says …!

Market research about newspaper and magazine readership? Count me in!

When Lurita from the American Institute of Consumer Studies showed up at my front door today, I welcomed her in so I could register my opinion about one of favorite pastimes: Reading.

But guess who she wanted to talk to — my Beloved, the man who’s banned all paper media from our house.

Hrrmph.

He answered all kinds of questions about all kinds of media (not just magazines and not only print) while I listened in. I remembered helping conduct a political survey in one of my poli sci classes a couple decades ago (getting hung up on is no fun). It was interesting to think about how this information, part of a national random sample, will be used. Lurita was fun, too — much better to be interviewed in person than on the phone.

Lurita said she was visiting some of my neighbors — apparently, our media consumption habits are representative of suburbanites across the country. I hope my reading neighbors welcome Lurita’s questions.

A new indulgence, no questions asked

My Schwan’s man stopped by today for the first time in nearly three months, and I greeted him at the door with, “It’s so good to see you!” As he handed me the latest catalog/menu planner, I asked, “What’s new?”

“Well, the chicken strips you like are $2 off. And we have two new flavors of ice cream.”

“Great, I’ll take the chicken strips. What are the new ice cream flavors?”

“Ah, salted caramel–”

“I’ll take it!”

He scurried off to gather my delicious frozen foods while I scribbled a check. When he returned, he stammered, “Um, when I said ‘salted caramel,’ I neglected to mention ‘cashews.’ It’s Salted Caramel Cashew flavor. Is that OK?”

In a microsecond, what flashed through my mind was “it’s Schwan’s ice cream,” “Schwan’s is delicious,” “creamy ice cream,” “sweet caramel,” “I’m not allergic to nuts” and “who could turn away any flavor of Schwan’s ice cream?”

All that remained unspoken. Instead, I smiled and said, “You had me at ‘salted caramel.’”

Ode to swanky paper products

There was a time in my life when the only paper product I could afford was toilet paper, known in swankier circles as “bathroom tissue.”

I blew my nose in the toilet paper (fresh sheets — do I need to mention that?) and instead of paper towels, I used a dish rag to wipe up spills. Napkins? Ha! Either they were washable or swiped from a fast food joint.

On the meager salary of a rookie newspaper reporter, I just couldn’t justify the cost of superfluous paper products that would only be tossed away like so much garbage.

When I finally could afford Kleenex — the brand-name ones! — well, I felt like I had arrived. And to splurge on Kleenex with lotion? Well, talk about swanky. I was mingling in Kardashian circles now!

Today was toilet paper stock-up day (I now have the comfort of buying toilet paper in Costco-size packs with enough rolls to outfit a small motel), and my Beloved tossed a pack in our cart. At check-out, I inspected his choice which was delightfully labeled with “TOUGH when wet!”

“Oh, I didn’t know bathroom tissue manufacturers were promoting themselves so boldly,” I thought. “‘Absorbent,’ yes, but ‘tough’? Really? We need ‘tough’? Who gets violently exuberant with their toilet paper?”

Further inspection revealed the bathroom tissue wasn’t bathroom tissue at all; Viva is predictably promoting its swanky paper towels as “tough.”

No, no, no. This won’t do. I’m proud to use paper products for their appropriately marketed purposes. We’ll have none of this cross-pollination.

And besides, the roll never would have fit on the toilet paper holder anyway.

Comfort clothes on a Friday night

My latest favorite hang-around outfit is my slouch tee from CAbi, a gift from my Beloved for my birthday.

I’ve waxed complimentary about CAbi clothes in this space before. Great quality, long enough for my arms and legs, and the clothes always look great. (And CAbi is a direct sales company, which I heartily endorse.)

My slouch tee is sort of dark gray-green-heather, so it goes with everything, and it’s the perfect weight — sort of like a T-shirt, sort of like a sweater. Goldilocks would love it because it’s just right.

 

Don’t be duped by the dancing lady in upscale denim

As we approach the end of the world, I’m looking for signs of the apocalypse, and I saw one this morning between the weather report and news of Honey Boo Boo on “Dancing With the Stars” as I jogged on the treadmill at Snap Fitness.

It is, after all, 12/12/12 tomorrow, and we all know the Mayans predicted the end of time is coming in 10 days. So begins the countdown.

Among the ads I couldn’t escape as I switched from CNN to NBC and back, I noticed Heidi Klum dancing around in Jordache jeans.

Ahh, I remember Jordache, I thought. I coveted those jeans back in the early ’80s when they went on sale at The Hut, a dark and moody fashion store tucked behind the Cozy movie theater in the small town where I grew up in central Minnesota.

A pair of Jordache jeans cost something like $45, which represented six good weekends of babysitting back when parents were paying $1.50 an hour if I was very lucky and I cleaned up the ice cream dishes. Only Calvin Klein jeans were higher on the 1983 prestige scale and only because nothing got between Brooke Shields and her Calvin Kleins.

Somehow, the thought of wearing tight jeans without underwear is kind of gross, but not when young Brooke was peddling it. In middle age, well-preserved 39-year-old Heidi — woman of multiple pregnancies with the sharp critiques on “Project Runway” — is my hero.

So when I saw her dancing around in Jordache jeans, I thought “how can I get some of that?”

And that’s when my headphones popped off and the treadmill stopped turning.

Jordache jeans are available at Wal-Mart.

For $13.

I don’t like Wal-Mart to begin with, but to think the object of my materialistic envy is now available around the corner in every small American city with a dying downtown business district provokes much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

The whole thing reminds me of this gem from Nostradamus, predicted in Quatrain 1212:

In the human realm dip Angelic offspring
Through her enemies, they will come to consume her
The one harsh of letters will make a so horrible notch
Dancing by force the remnants poisoned by son of Wall

It’s all so clear.

Oh, the joy of a new calendar!

I found myself at a Barnes & Noble bookstore today (yes, I was using a Garmin, and yes, I typed in “Barnes,” but I found myself there as much as I was drawn). And I picked up a beautiful 2013 appointment calendar.

I can hardly believe it’s time to think about the next year, but it is. The inside of this book is as lovely as the outside with its monthly calendar beside pages for weekly notes, and tabs (lovely useful tabs!) for each month.

It’s enhanced with quotes from Thich Nhat Hanh like “Every step, every breath made in mindfulness is an act of true love.” Of all the books that have slipped through my fingers over the years of many moves, I hung on to Hanh’s “Peace Is Every Step” for its timeless wisdom on living in the moment. This is exactly the philosophy I want perfuming my plans each day.

While I was in the calendar aisle, I spied the 2013 version of Marty Jerome’s Runner’s Day-by-Day Log. I love this calendar for recording my daily running/walking routines, and the 2013 version will mark the fourth year I’ve been using this log.

Because I regularly record my weight and mileage, I can tell you I’ve covered 660.71 miles so far this year, 245.35 miles fewer than last year at this time. I cut back on my mileage earlier this year to assuage plantar fasciitis pain in my left foot. My foot is better, but because of my log, I also know I weigh 7 pounds more than I did last Nov. 18. And I weight 11 pounds more than I did 2 years ago.

Hmm, have I gained weight because I’m running less? Or could it be that I’ve been eating too many of these?

Half empty? Or am I half full?

Introduced to these by a friend who described them as “crack caramel” because they’re so addictively delicious, don’t blame me when Sanders Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramels jump into your cart at Costco.

Now that I have my new 2013 calendars, I can ponder new resolutions to lose weight, run more, live mindfully and eschew anything touting “sea salt.”

That’s all I will do for right now: Ponder. Action can come later. This week, I’m going to be grateful and gluttonous.

Learning is the beginning of wealth

Three things I learned today:

1.There are two locations with the address of 214 20th St. North in Birmingham, Ala. The first one the Garmin brought us to was a domicile, not a trendy lunch spot. The Brick & Tin, it turns out, is located in downtown Birmingham, and the purveyors believe “people should know where their food comes from.” We enjoyed both delicious soups of the day: Butternut squash and cauliflower. And I just love a place that serves couscous. Today’s seasonal side was a tasty couscous with roasted squash.

2. Brides love rustic arrangements, according to Denise Bann of Green Finch Floral Design in the Nashville area. Before leaving her fine hospitality this morning, she sent us on our way with this cute bouquet to brighten our hotel room tonight. What is “rustic” in flowers? “Tightly packed, fully arranged blooms that are lush, and arranged in a more textured, compact way,” as quoted from an Ashworth Community blog. “Hold on to those mason jars, but instead of having a few stems idly leaning against the side, they will be arranged in abundance.”

If you love this bouquet, pin it on Pinterest and talk up my friend Denise.

3. It’s the season of “yes” at Victoria’s Secret. After racing to a local mall at 8:45 p.m. tonight during the Bears game on Monday Night Football (!) only to find I’d forgotten my coupons (double !!), the Victoria’s Secret associate told me I could return tomorrow and use the coupons even though they expire today. Hey, the coupons are for free underwear! Whew.

A fortune worth its weight in plastic trinkets and corn dogs

While wandering around the fried food vendors and hawkers of all things made in Asia at the flea market yesterday, I passed a psychic named Rachel.

I didn’t really want six bras for $12, and I didn’t need a kitchen gadget for real cheap, so I figured $20 on a tarot card reading would be good entertainment that wouldn’t fill my closets needlessly. I doubled back.

I used to believe tarot was the playhouse of the devil — I didn’t read horoscopes either — so if that’s how you think, don’t read any further because you’ll feel compelled to pray for my immortal soul.

During the reading, the grim reaper card made an appearance.

I gasped.

Rachel, a tiny Hispanic woman with soft hands and laugh lines around her eyes, said, “Don’t worry. It doesn’t mean death.”

She reassured me it might mean I think often of my brother, who died 13 years ago.

I think it’s more symbolic.

Online, descriptions of the meaning of the death card include phrases such as “speaks of a major conclusion in an area of our lives” and “acknowledged as a life changing symbol.”

I’ve been feeling I’ve been standing on a precipice, but I don’t feel like I’m about to fall off. I feel like I’m ready to fly.

Growing wings would certainly be “life changing.”

In other news, Rachel told me I’m married to a good man, my stepchildren love me and there’s a move in store for me (oh, and my second and third books will be even more successful than my first!).

For $20, my reading was certainly more useful than some of the dusty plastic junk I passed up at the flea market. And I didn’t have to lug it home.

A pair is solitary only when it’s a pear

Google “I hate grocery shopping,” and you’ll get 25,800,000 results.

That’s a lot of vitriol.

Count me among the haters.

I live in a household of two, and neither of us is a teenager. We eat out six times a week. Volume is not an issue, so I realize the shallowness of my pain. And it’s not the act of walking around the supermarket comparing labels that I detest.

It’s the commute.

My little burg has lots of things … well, actually, it doesn’t … and among the things it’s missing is a grocery store with decent produce.

And ground turkey.

And I needed both today.

Spanish meatball stew and roasted plums are on the menu tonight. A “quick” trip to the grocery store is a 45-minute journey involving Interstate highways or road construction or both.

In addition to turkey and plums, I got a bonus. I found an image to fit the WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Solitary.

Two pears might not be so bad.

One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do.
A pear can be as bad as one.
It’s the loneliest fruit since the number one.

Thank you, Three Dog Night, for the produce section entertainment.

Like the fickle shopper earlier, I left the forsaken pear behind, too.

Little store featuring Amish goods in southwestern Wisconsin was worth the stop

Wal-Mart offers convenience and low, low prices, but I shudder every time I step into one of their stores.

Same, same sameness overwhelms me as much as the Wal-Mart greeter and the harsh overhead lighting.

But as we meandered across southwestern Wisconsin last week, we stopped at the sort of little store that sets my heart a flutter and gives me hope in a Wal-Mart world.

The Ottervale General Store, a darling restored 1890s mercantile near La Farge, Wis., is tucked a half mile off the main road and nestled in a forest. Run by Kickapoo Valley Heritage Art & Tours, it’s dedicated to educating “about the Amish, round barns and history of the beautiful Kickapoo Valley and Ocooch Mountains.” Despite emphasizing all that is low-tech, they have a nice little Facebook fan page here where you can see pictures of the outside and inside.

It’s filled with locally handcrafted goods including foods, jewelry and a rack of beautiful Amish rugs that drew me to it the instant I stepped inside.

I indulged in three of these unique and, I’m told, durable floor coverings to replace the rugs in our kitchen, which became passé when repainted earlier this year.

Before: Kitchen/patio entrance

After: Kitchen/patio entrance with new Amish rug.

And Wal-Mart shoppers might be surprised by the low, low prices on these rugs: I paid $18.49, $21 and $26 for these handmade originals. And just like you might expect from such a homespun storefront, we got free advice on local sightseeing and lodging.

Despite the remote location of the Ottervale General Store, it’s worth a stop if you’re in the area. Enjoy the journey.