Have you ever done something that's just so painfully stupid you can't believe you're allowed to walk around using the earth's oxygen? I'm now a member of that club.
On Sunday I noticed that my winter parka was kind of dirty down the front, along the flap that covers the zipper, probably from reading the paper every day on the way to work. I was a little embarrassed that I hadn't noticed it sooner, so when I got home I pulled the gloves out of the pockets and put the coat in the washing machine. A little while later I was wondering where I'd put my cell phone, then I remembered it was time to put the coat in the dryer.
On my way down the stairs to the basement those two thoughts converged in my head in one of those "oh, no" moments that we hope never to have. Sure enough, the phone was in the inside pocket. I'd been in such haste to wash it that I allowed that thought to override my usual logical process: come in the house, take phone out of pocket and put it in usual spot so I can find it again later, hang up coat.
The phone was toast, although the battery worked fine in the Mrs.' phone (same brand). I still had my previous phone, so a call to customer service got that one reactivated and solved the immediate problem of having one to use. The bigger question is, what now? I don't want to continue using the old phone indefinitely. If I go to Verizon Wireless to buy a replacement, they're going to charge me some ridiculous amount (probably around $300, from what I can gather without asking them directly). I've had a cell phone for over ten years and until now I've never rendered one inoperable, so I don't feel that insurance is worth it--if I'd been paying for it all this time, I would have paid more than twice the cost of a non-contract replacement phone, and there's typically still a deductible involved.
eBay is an option--my reactivated temporary phone came from there--but there is a certain amount of risk in such a purchase, and current model phones aren't exactly bargains; to replace my drowned phone with the same model would cost one-third to one-half of what Verizon would charge me. Some of the more established cell-phone sellers on eBay are now offering guarantees, which would make me feel better about choosing that route.
Another possibility is craigslist. I have both bought and sold things on the 'list, and while it can be a pain for buyer and seller to make the arrangements to meet, at least you can look over the merchandise and ensure it works before handing over your money. But the selection of phones for Verizon is a little thin at the moment, and not surprisingly tends toward older models.
So I'll have to bide my time with my old phone while checking craigslist and eBay looking for the right deal. In the meantime, when I go to do laundry you can bet I'll be checking every pocket very carefully.
20 March 2007
15 March 2007
Where Did My Products Go?
I realized that I haven't been keeping up with the "consumption" aspect of this blog's mission. I've still been a consumer, of course, but my recent entries have not focused on that so much. That's because I'm smart enough (thankfully) to know that not everything I buy is interesting enough to write about. I recently bought another pair of boots that were too big, but that didn't seem to merit a post of its own, especially since I was dumb enough (regrettably) to wear them for the better part of a day even though I'd already determined they were too big, thereby rendering them un-returnable. So I sold them on eBay, for less than I hoped I'd get, but they're on the way to someone who wants them, and thus no longer taking up space in the house, sitting there quietly mocking my stupidity.
However, I do have a consumer-related issue that's been on my mind for a while. I seem to have what is becoming an alarming tendency to choose personal-care and grooming products that later disappear, inevitably after I've decided that Product X is the best thing ever and I never want to use anything else. It's just happened for the third time in the past several years.
The first instance was a hair product. It wasn't anything fancy; in fact, it was one of the cheapest products in that aisle of the drugstore--after having been burned by $10, $15, even $20 products that didn't work, its low price was the reason I decided to try it. But it worked, so who cares? Then it went away with no warning, no "get it while it lasts!" signs. The rest of the product line was still there, taunting me in its gaudy aqua packaging (it seems like it was aimed at gum-snapping teenage girls, but again, who cares?). I looked in the clearance section. I looked in other drugstore chains. I looked in the supermarket's health & beauty aisle. I looked in Target, Costco, and even the dreaded Wal-Mart: nothing. I gave up and resorted to a succession of inferior products.
Fast-forward about two years to the winter of 2005. I found myself wandering the aisles of the discount paradise known as the Ocean State Job Lot (an odd sort of hybrid of a dollar store on steroids and a Big Lots, indigenous to New England, but primarily found in Rhode Island, southern Connecticut, and southeastern Massachusetts) when I spotted the unmistakable aqua containers. Could it be? It was. Had they been sitting in a warehouse somewhere this whole time? Didn't know, didn't care. I knew from previous use that each bottle lasted me at least eight months (because I don't have much hair left). I grabbed six bottles, which I think ended up costing 75 cents each. I'm on bottlethree four.
The next such incident involved a product I used to use to wash my face before shaving, that did nice things to my pores and helped prevent cuts. Again I got hooked and again it disappeared, except this time the supermarket continued carrying it for a while. I should have stocked up then, but I didn't realize it was happening again. When even they no longer had it, I looked to the company's web site, which claimed it was still available. Their retail locator offered a list of stores that carried the brand, but wasn't any more specific. After another week or so spent running around, I again gave up; this time, at least, I was able to find a comparable replacement product.
Most recently, I've used and lost a clear-gel acne treatment product which I would apply before going to bed. Fortunately I'm at an age where I don't have to deal with acne on a regular basis, but we all need a little help now and then. It was remarkably effective; often the offending breakout would be gone the next morning, and without causing any irritation like some acne treatments do. I still have some left, but when it's gone I really don't know what I'm going to use in its place, as I haven't been able to find any comparable products.
Repeated disappointment has made me cynical, and these days I'm trying not to grow too attached to my products. Maybe it's time for another trip to Job Lot.
However, I do have a consumer-related issue that's been on my mind for a while. I seem to have what is becoming an alarming tendency to choose personal-care and grooming products that later disappear, inevitably after I've decided that Product X is the best thing ever and I never want to use anything else. It's just happened for the third time in the past several years.
The first instance was a hair product. It wasn't anything fancy; in fact, it was one of the cheapest products in that aisle of the drugstore--after having been burned by $10, $15, even $20 products that didn't work, its low price was the reason I decided to try it. But it worked, so who cares? Then it went away with no warning, no "get it while it lasts!" signs. The rest of the product line was still there, taunting me in its gaudy aqua packaging (it seems like it was aimed at gum-snapping teenage girls, but again, who cares?). I looked in the clearance section. I looked in other drugstore chains. I looked in the supermarket's health & beauty aisle. I looked in Target, Costco, and even the dreaded Wal-Mart: nothing. I gave up and resorted to a succession of inferior products.
Fast-forward about two years to the winter of 2005. I found myself wandering the aisles of the discount paradise known as the Ocean State Job Lot (an odd sort of hybrid of a dollar store on steroids and a Big Lots, indigenous to New England, but primarily found in Rhode Island, southern Connecticut, and southeastern Massachusetts) when I spotted the unmistakable aqua containers. Could it be? It was. Had they been sitting in a warehouse somewhere this whole time? Didn't know, didn't care. I knew from previous use that each bottle lasted me at least eight months (because I don't have much hair left). I grabbed six bottles, which I think ended up costing 75 cents each. I'm on bottle
The next such incident involved a product I used to use to wash my face before shaving, that did nice things to my pores and helped prevent cuts. Again I got hooked and again it disappeared, except this time the supermarket continued carrying it for a while. I should have stocked up then, but I didn't realize it was happening again. When even they no longer had it, I looked to the company's web site, which claimed it was still available. Their retail locator offered a list of stores that carried the brand, but wasn't any more specific. After another week or so spent running around, I again gave up; this time, at least, I was able to find a comparable replacement product.
Most recently, I've used and lost a clear-gel acne treatment product which I would apply before going to bed. Fortunately I'm at an age where I don't have to deal with acne on a regular basis, but we all need a little help now and then. It was remarkably effective; often the offending breakout would be gone the next morning, and without causing any irritation like some acne treatments do. I still have some left, but when it's gone I really don't know what I'm going to use in its place, as I haven't been able to find any comparable products.
Repeated disappointment has made me cynical, and these days I'm trying not to grow too attached to my products. Maybe it's time for another trip to Job Lot.
11 March 2007
TV Wasteland
It's been a rough few weeks over here at the SAR household. The Mrs. has been struggling with a persistent cough that turned out to be bronchitis. It took two doctor visits to affirm this (even though I guessed it three weeks ago), as the doctors didn't see the need to do a chest X-ray the first time around. So helpful. The antibiotics she got on the second visit did what they were supposed to do, but when they ran out earlier this week, her cough returned. So she made a third visit to the doctor yesterday and got another round of a different antibiotic, which seems to be working and hopefully will clear the gunk out of her lungs for good. (It had better, because I'm really, really tired of hearing that cough.)
As a result, we haven't done much outside the house lately, especially with the cold blast we had this past week. Even a short amount of time in front of the TV confirms that March is the dead zone for network programming, since it immediately follows the February sweeps period. There's some college basketball tournament coming up that we don't care about, we're not interested in who is going to be the next anorexic model or slutty dancer, and we don't partake of that despicable emotional beatdown masquerading as a singing competition (and what does it say about our country and culture that this is what now passes for entertainment?), so the pickings are slim.
The networks also use this time to try out new shows, away from the clutter of new episodes of established shows, and sometimes it works out well--Grey's Anatomy started in March two years ago, and it's turned into a top-rated show. But last Sunday we did make the mistake of watching the first episode of The Winner, a mind-blowingly bad new "comedy" on Fox, mostly because it was sandwiched between new episodes of The Simpsons and Family Guy and there wasn't anything else on that we cared about at the time. Two-thirds of the way through, the Mrs. stopped coughing long enough to comment, "I hate this already. Do we have to finish watching it?" We didn't have to, but we did, because there were only ten minutes left, but we opted to skip the second episode shown later the same night.
It's not all bad news, though. Because of their networks' scheduling quirks, there are new episodes of Lost and 24 on every week. NBC is showing plenty of reruns of one of our favorites, The Office, which is always worth watching a second time, but they're sweetening the deal with some with scenes that didn't make it into the episodes the first time around. The New Adventures of Old Christine comes back tomorrow night, promising us a few more laughs. And there's always Netflix. And before we know it, April will be here, and with any luck, the Mrs. will have stopped coughing, the weather will improve, and we'll be able to go see a movie.
As a result, we haven't done much outside the house lately, especially with the cold blast we had this past week. Even a short amount of time in front of the TV confirms that March is the dead zone for network programming, since it immediately follows the February sweeps period. There's some college basketball tournament coming up that we don't care about, we're not interested in who is going to be the next anorexic model or slutty dancer, and we don't partake of that despicable emotional beatdown masquerading as a singing competition (and what does it say about our country and culture that this is what now passes for entertainment?), so the pickings are slim.
The networks also use this time to try out new shows, away from the clutter of new episodes of established shows, and sometimes it works out well--Grey's Anatomy started in March two years ago, and it's turned into a top-rated show. But last Sunday we did make the mistake of watching the first episode of The Winner, a mind-blowingly bad new "comedy" on Fox, mostly because it was sandwiched between new episodes of The Simpsons and Family Guy and there wasn't anything else on that we cared about at the time. Two-thirds of the way through, the Mrs. stopped coughing long enough to comment, "I hate this already. Do we have to finish watching it?" We didn't have to, but we did, because there were only ten minutes left, but we opted to skip the second episode shown later the same night.
It's not all bad news, though. Because of their networks' scheduling quirks, there are new episodes of Lost and 24 on every week. NBC is showing plenty of reruns of one of our favorites, The Office, which is always worth watching a second time, but they're sweetening the deal with some with scenes that didn't make it into the episodes the first time around. The New Adventures of Old Christine comes back tomorrow night, promising us a few more laughs. And there's always Netflix. And before we know it, April will be here, and with any luck, the Mrs. will have stopped coughing, the weather will improve, and we'll be able to go see a movie.
06 March 2007
Up in Somke
I don't smoke. I don't know anyone who does, except my father, who's been smoking so much, for so long, that I don't think he could quit if he wanted to. I was thrilled when Massachusetts passed the law several years back banning smoking in restaurants, bars, and clubs. But with that law came the exile of the smokers to sidewalks everywhere, often in clots that need to be dodged.
I was thinking about this as I went to get lunch the other day. I work in the midst of a cluster of top-tier hospitals, without exaggeration some of the finest medical care in the world, so I don't see a lot of people standing around on the street smoking. But the law of averages says that a certain percentage of people in any workplace are going to be smokers, and the medical area is no exception.
The rear entrance to the Longwood Galleria food court is at the end of an alley; it's a natural gathering spot for smokers who have finished lunch and are grabbing a puff before going back to work. Also abutting the same alley is the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, which, according to their web site, "provides expert, compassionate care to children and adults with cancer." Is it just me, or is this the height of irony? At least the smokers will know where it is when they need to go there...
I was thinking about this as I went to get lunch the other day. I work in the midst of a cluster of top-tier hospitals, without exaggeration some of the finest medical care in the world, so I don't see a lot of people standing around on the street smoking. But the law of averages says that a certain percentage of people in any workplace are going to be smokers, and the medical area is no exception.
The rear entrance to the Longwood Galleria food court is at the end of an alley; it's a natural gathering spot for smokers who have finished lunch and are grabbing a puff before going back to work. Also abutting the same alley is the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, which, according to their web site, "provides expert, compassionate care to children and adults with cancer." Is it just me, or is this the height of irony? At least the smokers will know where it is when they need to go there...
03 March 2007
Random Acts of Weirdness (Pet Peeve Unit)
It was a week of random weirdness (and rudeness) out there in the big city. Here are some examples:
—The other day I went out to get lunch and drop off a bill at the mailbox. (Yes, I still pay one or two of my bills by check, but only because the companies in question don't offer an appropriate online payment method. In this case it's National Grid, our electric company. The only way you can pay online is to set up a recurring monthly payment, and I choose not to do this because I like to retain control over when and how much I pay.)
But I digress... as I approached the mailbox, I noticed a guy standing in front of it. I figured he was dropping off a piece of mail like me. As I got closer I saw that he was outside for a smoke break. He was standing in such a spot that there was no way I or anyone else could get to the mailbox without stepping around him and into his cloud of smoke. The mailbox is directly in front of an open area, and had he chosen to stand in any other spot nearby, his smoke bomb would have offended no one. I have to wonder if a smoker would feel marginalized enough by the laws to do something like this on purpose, but I decided against asking him.
—Even if the T never gets around to putting transmitters in the subway tunnels, cell phones still work some of the time, which is unfortunate. Wednesday morning on the Orange Line, a young woman sat down next to me in the midst of a conversation that proceeded to go something like this:
"Tell her about MY new sneakers...Did you tell her?...Did you tell her?...Tell her about MY new sneakers...Tell her about mine...Tell her about mine...Did you tell her?...Did you tell her?...Did you tell her?...Did you tell her?...What did she say?...Really?...I'm gonna lose you, I gotta go."
I'm not exaggerating: she really did say "Did you tell her?" ten or twelve times. I'm thinking it was a reception issue. If there had been actual cell service in the tunnel, would she have had to repeat herself so many times? We'll never know.
Then I noticed she was wearing headphones. I noticed because, since she was done talking, I could hear the music coming out of her ear. And I wondered, was she listening to the music while talking on the phone? Because that probably would have affected her ability to hear the other end of her conversation. But I didn't want to look too closely at her, because the music coming out of those headphones was Journey's "Faithfully," and that's just so wrong on so many levels, I don't know where to begin.
Now, she could have had a cell phone that plays mp3s, and I'm fairly certain that those are engineered in such a way that you can't listen to music while on a call, but since I have an iPod with far more capacity than any phone-sized memory card, I don't really pay attention to such things (even though my own cell phone has this capability).
This was at 8:30 AM. Sometimes when I overhear these conversations, I wonder about why people feel the need to have incredibly lengthy and involved conversations so early in the day. I think back to twenty years ago, when I was young enough that I might have felt such a need, but even if cell phones had been common then, I can't imagine myself needing to talk to even my best friend before getting to work, wspecially about something as banal as new sneakers. And anyway, I'd much rather show my new sneakers to my friends than tell them about them over the phone.
—At the end of that same morning's ride, I was preparing to get off the train to switch to a bus. There was a fairly bulky dude standing directly in front of me, so I went through the motions of folding up my newspaper and putting it away, putting my cap back on, and otherwise telegraphng to him in the universally understood (or so I thought) mass transit code that I was about to get off the train, and it would be helpful to me if he would move a couple of inches in the direction of his choice to give me some room to stand up.
The train wasn't really crowded by this point, so he had plenty of room to move, but he chose to remain in the exact spot where I needed to be when I stood up. So the train reached the station and I stood up, putting myself very much inside his personal space, hoping he'd get the message that he was impeding my passage. As I moved toward the door of the train, instinct told me to look over my shoulder, and I saw him glaring at me, as though I had somehow committed an offense against him. I felt I had no choice but to glare back because it really was his fault, even though the whole incident was ridiculous and pointless, and never should have happened. Fortunately the rest of my trip to work that day was without incident, but some days it's just such a challenge, you wish you didn't have to bother.
—The other day I went out to get lunch and drop off a bill at the mailbox. (Yes, I still pay one or two of my bills by check, but only because the companies in question don't offer an appropriate online payment method. In this case it's National Grid, our electric company. The only way you can pay online is to set up a recurring monthly payment, and I choose not to do this because I like to retain control over when and how much I pay.)
But I digress... as I approached the mailbox, I noticed a guy standing in front of it. I figured he was dropping off a piece of mail like me. As I got closer I saw that he was outside for a smoke break. He was standing in such a spot that there was no way I or anyone else could get to the mailbox without stepping around him and into his cloud of smoke. The mailbox is directly in front of an open area, and had he chosen to stand in any other spot nearby, his smoke bomb would have offended no one. I have to wonder if a smoker would feel marginalized enough by the laws to do something like this on purpose, but I decided against asking him.
—Even if the T never gets around to putting transmitters in the subway tunnels, cell phones still work some of the time, which is unfortunate. Wednesday morning on the Orange Line, a young woman sat down next to me in the midst of a conversation that proceeded to go something like this:
"Tell her about MY new sneakers...Did you tell her?...Did you tell her?...Tell her about MY new sneakers...Tell her about mine...Tell her about mine...Did you tell her?...Did you tell her?...Did you tell her?...Did you tell her?...What did she say?...Really?...I'm gonna lose you, I gotta go."
I'm not exaggerating: she really did say "Did you tell her?" ten or twelve times. I'm thinking it was a reception issue. If there had been actual cell service in the tunnel, would she have had to repeat herself so many times? We'll never know.
Then I noticed she was wearing headphones. I noticed because, since she was done talking, I could hear the music coming out of her ear. And I wondered, was she listening to the music while talking on the phone? Because that probably would have affected her ability to hear the other end of her conversation. But I didn't want to look too closely at her, because the music coming out of those headphones was Journey's "Faithfully," and that's just so wrong on so many levels, I don't know where to begin.
Now, she could have had a cell phone that plays mp3s, and I'm fairly certain that those are engineered in such a way that you can't listen to music while on a call, but since I have an iPod with far more capacity than any phone-sized memory card, I don't really pay attention to such things (even though my own cell phone has this capability).
This was at 8:30 AM. Sometimes when I overhear these conversations, I wonder about why people feel the need to have incredibly lengthy and involved conversations so early in the day. I think back to twenty years ago, when I was young enough that I might have felt such a need, but even if cell phones had been common then, I can't imagine myself needing to talk to even my best friend before getting to work, wspecially about something as banal as new sneakers. And anyway, I'd much rather show my new sneakers to my friends than tell them about them over the phone.
—At the end of that same morning's ride, I was preparing to get off the train to switch to a bus. There was a fairly bulky dude standing directly in front of me, so I went through the motions of folding up my newspaper and putting it away, putting my cap back on, and otherwise telegraphng to him in the universally understood (or so I thought) mass transit code that I was about to get off the train, and it would be helpful to me if he would move a couple of inches in the direction of his choice to give me some room to stand up.
The train wasn't really crowded by this point, so he had plenty of room to move, but he chose to remain in the exact spot where I needed to be when I stood up. So the train reached the station and I stood up, putting myself very much inside his personal space, hoping he'd get the message that he was impeding my passage. As I moved toward the door of the train, instinct told me to look over my shoulder, and I saw him glaring at me, as though I had somehow committed an offense against him. I felt I had no choice but to glare back because it really was his fault, even though the whole incident was ridiculous and pointless, and never should have happened. Fortunately the rest of my trip to work that day was without incident, but some days it's just such a challenge, you wish you didn't have to bother.
01 March 2007
Can You Hear Me Now? (Crazy Gadgets Unit)
The post I was planning for today is gonna have to wait, because just when you think the world has become too boring and homogeneous and has run out of weirdness, this comes along to restore the faith...
Courtesy of Engadget, a tech blog, and those wacky Japanese and their penchant for gadgetizing their entire lives, comes today's little moment of joy: a device that lets you see inside your ear canals while cleaning them. Wow. Just...wow. This sort of thing is guaranteed to make my day, every time.
Courtesy of Engadget, a tech blog, and those wacky Japanese and their penchant for gadgetizing their entire lives, comes today's little moment of joy: a device that lets you see inside your ear canals while cleaning them. Wow. Just...wow. This sort of thing is guaranteed to make my day, every time.
27 February 2007
Scratching the Itch
Back in 2004, I started buying lottery scratch tickets. I had never done this before; in the early 90s I had a set of numbers I played in one of the weekly jackpot games for a while, but that was it for me as far as the lottery was concerned. But in mid-2004 I was laid off, and to my twisted way of thinking, a lottery prize would be a convincing argument for not having to get another job.
So what happens when a compulsive mind like mine decides to participate in legalized gambling? Well, I'm not analyzing percentages or anything like that, but I did quickly arrive at some conclusions regarding how best towaste spend my money. I don't have an addictive personality, but I can certainly see how easy it would be to go overboard, so I decided right away that I was going to limit myself to $10 per week, so things wouldn't get out of hand. (I figure the money falls in the same category as a daily fancy-latte-type drink, which I don't buy, so it has about the same justification.)
Then I looked at the the games themselves. I determined that the $1 tickets just aren't worth it, because the prizes are too small. Conversely, while the $5 tickets have much bigger prizes, when I did buy them I never won anything, and for the same amount of money, you don't get as many chances to win: if I buy five $2 tickets, I'm getting a total of ten chances (two per ticket), but if I buy two $5 tickets, there are only eight chances (four per ticket).
So for me the happy medium seems to be the $2 tickets. In a typical week I'll win a couple of bucks, just enough to make me feel like it's worth it and keep me coming back. On a couple of occasions I won $50, and once a few months ago $100. When that happens, I either take the Mrs. out for a nice dinner, or put it into the "fund" (also known as a savings account) I maintain for big-ticket purchases. At the moment, the fund has about 50% of the cost of the plasma TV I'm going to buy soon, which will make paying for it a good bit easier.
When I win a small amount, I practice a "reinvestment strategy" of sorts: when I go back the following week, I use the winnings to buy additional tickets beyond my weekly allotment. So this week I had $6 from last week's tickets, so I got a total of eight tickets, but still spent only $10. This makes me feel like I have more chances to win something.
Massachusetts participates in one of those multi-state jackpot games called Mega Millions, which is drawn twice a week. When the jackpot gets large, say over $100 million, I find it pretty hard to resist, so I amended my lottery rules to allow me to spend another $10 per week on Mega Millions. I don't play a specific set of numbers; rather, I embrace the randomness of the world and play "quick picks," which means I let the lottery machine randomly choose the numbers for me. (Actually, I decided that filling in the tiny circles on those cards every time would make me feel just a little too desperate.)
To my complete lack of surprise, my winnings from the jackpot game have been next to nothing. Occasionally I have a couple of the numbers, but without the "mega ball" the prizes are negligible. Last week I had the mega ball twice, but no other numbers, which got me $2 for each mega ball. Since the jackpot was still growing, I put the $4 toward the next set of quick picks. I'll probably never win anything substantial, but I tell myself I have just as much chance as anyone. I fantasize about world travel, vacation homes, helping my family, becoming a philanthropist, and not having to work ever again. Especially that last one.
So what happens when a compulsive mind like mine decides to participate in legalized gambling? Well, I'm not analyzing percentages or anything like that, but I did quickly arrive at some conclusions regarding how best to
Then I looked at the the games themselves. I determined that the $1 tickets just aren't worth it, because the prizes are too small. Conversely, while the $5 tickets have much bigger prizes, when I did buy them I never won anything, and for the same amount of money, you don't get as many chances to win: if I buy five $2 tickets, I'm getting a total of ten chances (two per ticket), but if I buy two $5 tickets, there are only eight chances (four per ticket).
So for me the happy medium seems to be the $2 tickets. In a typical week I'll win a couple of bucks, just enough to make me feel like it's worth it and keep me coming back. On a couple of occasions I won $50, and once a few months ago $100. When that happens, I either take the Mrs. out for a nice dinner, or put it into the "fund" (also known as a savings account) I maintain for big-ticket purchases. At the moment, the fund has about 50% of the cost of the plasma TV I'm going to buy soon, which will make paying for it a good bit easier.
When I win a small amount, I practice a "reinvestment strategy" of sorts: when I go back the following week, I use the winnings to buy additional tickets beyond my weekly allotment. So this week I had $6 from last week's tickets, so I got a total of eight tickets, but still spent only $10. This makes me feel like I have more chances to win something.
Massachusetts participates in one of those multi-state jackpot games called Mega Millions, which is drawn twice a week. When the jackpot gets large, say over $100 million, I find it pretty hard to resist, so I amended my lottery rules to allow me to spend another $10 per week on Mega Millions. I don't play a specific set of numbers; rather, I embrace the randomness of the world and play "quick picks," which means I let the lottery machine randomly choose the numbers for me. (Actually, I decided that filling in the tiny circles on those cards every time would make me feel just a little too desperate.)
To my complete lack of surprise, my winnings from the jackpot game have been next to nothing. Occasionally I have a couple of the numbers, but without the "mega ball" the prizes are negligible. Last week I had the mega ball twice, but no other numbers, which got me $2 for each mega ball. Since the jackpot was still growing, I put the $4 toward the next set of quick picks. I'll probably never win anything substantial, but I tell myself I have just as much chance as anyone. I fantasize about world travel, vacation homes, helping my family, becoming a philanthropist, and not having to work ever again. Especially that last one.
24 February 2007
In NyQuil We Trust
Being sick is just so much fun. But as soon as I figured out what was going on, I reached for the NyQuil, for two reasons: one, it was already in the house, and two, it always works. Since it was a long holiday weekend and I didn't have to worry about going anywhere or being lucid, I took the green stuff round the clock until Tuesday, when I decided to shift to the day/night combo because I wanted to try to start feeling normal again.
A lot of people will tell you they don't like the taste of NyQuil (their spelling, by the way, with the capital Q). Not me; I love it. I love it because it Tastes. Like. Medicine. One whiff and you know it's serious stuff. One swallow, and you know you're going to feel better soon. Of course, the sense of wooziness brought on by the combination of the antihistamine and alcohol is part of the fun too. It makes you relaxed, passive, receptive. Appetite? Not really. Take a shower? Nah. Five or so hours of Anthony Bourdain on the Travel Channel? Sure.
A lot of people will tell you they don't like the taste of NyQuil (their spelling, by the way, with the capital Q). Not me; I love it. I love it because it Tastes. Like. Medicine. One whiff and you know it's serious stuff. One swallow, and you know you're going to feel better soon. Of course, the sense of wooziness brought on by the combination of the antihistamine and alcohol is part of the fun too. It makes you relaxed, passive, receptive. Appetite? Not really. Take a shower? Nah. Five or so hours of Anthony Bourdain on the Travel Channel? Sure.
18 February 2007
Closed Due to Illness
Well, after fighting it for a week, I finally caught whatever it is the Mrs. has been coughing out into the atmosphere. Programming will resume when I can once again think straight...
12 February 2007
Plaid World
Sometimes I just don't have a good topic in mind. Like today. I was actually going to write a lame post about how sometimes I can't think of anything to write, but fortunately/unfortunately, on the way home from work I encountered unexpected inspiration. A young lady standing at the bus stop was wearing Burberry earmuffs. Burberry. Earmuffs. My brain just locked up; I didn't know what to make of them. And then I thought to myself, I wonder if she's wearing a Burberry thong too? Because if they make Burberry earmuffs, they must make fucking Burberry underpants. Then, a little while later, while I was in the midst of an errand at a trendy shopping mall, I saw a second young lady wearing them. At least it's clear who the target customer is.
When I got home I looked them up online, and saw that they are cashmere and cost $115. Just think about that for a minute. What's the last item of clothing you bought that cost over $100? I bet it was probably a coat, or maybe a good pair of shoes, or possibly you treated yourself to a cashmere sweater. I rooted around in my own brain, and I think for me it was a leather coat I got about a year ago. It was originally $250 but I found it on clearance for around $120. I also bought a pair of engineer boots around the same time that were about the same amount. The closest thing I have to earmuffs is those things that go around the back of your head and cover your ears, and twist up into a sort of ball when you aren't wearing them. They cost about $10.
I still can't get my mind around the fact that someone thought the world needed cashmere earmuffs with the Burberry plaid on them. It does not surprise me that people would buy them, because people will buy anything. I just think it's sad that we allow ourselves to be marketed to in this way, and that we think we need to buy expensive designer items to validate ourselves.
By the way, I couldn't find any underwear, but they do make Burberry-plaid bikinis. I'm sure it's just a matter of time, though.
When I got home I looked them up online, and saw that they are cashmere and cost $115. Just think about that for a minute. What's the last item of clothing you bought that cost over $100? I bet it was probably a coat, or maybe a good pair of shoes, or possibly you treated yourself to a cashmere sweater. I rooted around in my own brain, and I think for me it was a leather coat I got about a year ago. It was originally $250 but I found it on clearance for around $120. I also bought a pair of engineer boots around the same time that were about the same amount. The closest thing I have to earmuffs is those things that go around the back of your head and cover your ears, and twist up into a sort of ball when you aren't wearing them. They cost about $10.
I still can't get my mind around the fact that someone thought the world needed cashmere earmuffs with the Burberry plaid on them. It does not surprise me that people would buy them, because people will buy anything. I just think it's sad that we allow ourselves to be marketed to in this way, and that we think we need to buy expensive designer items to validate ourselves.
By the way, I couldn't find any underwear, but they do make Burberry-plaid bikinis. I'm sure it's just a matter of time, though.
07 February 2007
City Mice, Country Mice
Over the weekend we made an overnight visit to friends who live in West Brookfield, a very pretty, very small town out in the middle of the state. Their house is on five acres at the end of a long driveway, and they regularly get coyotes, foxes, deer, and other wildlife as visitors in their yard. We ate, drank, talked, and relaxed. We took a walk in the snow, in spite of the cold, and even the dog seemed to enjoy herself--she doesn't like to walk at home because other dogs in the neighborhood make her nervous. (Yes, she is a pathetic, 60-pound sissy-dog.)
It's only a 90-minute drive from our house to theirs, but it's such a striking contrast to living in the city or just outside it, as we do. If I could drive, I wouldn't mind living somewhere less urban, though not necessarily as rural as "camp," as our friends refer to their place. And as much as the Mrs. enjoys nature, animals, and getting away from things, I could tell that even after only 24 hours, she was getting a little bored with all that peace and quiet.
Sure, we have cable and TiVo and Netflix and everything else, and we could have all that no matter where we lived (our friends can't get cable, but they have DirecTV), but sometimes you just want to go out and do something, and that's where the differences come into focus. If they want to go see a movie, they have to drive 40 minutes to Amherst or Northampton or Worcester; from our house, we can get to either the Capitol, the Somerville Theatre, or the Revere Showcase in about 15 minutes. They have one pizza place and one Chinese place; the pizza place delivers, the Chinese place doesn't. The choices for sit-down dining are bound to be limited in a town with only 1600 residents; again, satisfaction is at the other end of a lengthy car ride. Hell, it's ten miles from their house to the liquor store.
As with everything else in life, it's a tradeoff: what you get in exchange for what you are willing to give up. As we were driving home Sunday evening, slipping through the city on the Turnpike, the Mrs. gestured outside the car and said, "See, I would miss this too much." I knew exactly what she meant.
It's only a 90-minute drive from our house to theirs, but it's such a striking contrast to living in the city or just outside it, as we do. If I could drive, I wouldn't mind living somewhere less urban, though not necessarily as rural as "camp," as our friends refer to their place. And as much as the Mrs. enjoys nature, animals, and getting away from things, I could tell that even after only 24 hours, she was getting a little bored with all that peace and quiet.
Sure, we have cable and TiVo and Netflix and everything else, and we could have all that no matter where we lived (our friends can't get cable, but they have DirecTV), but sometimes you just want to go out and do something, and that's where the differences come into focus. If they want to go see a movie, they have to drive 40 minutes to Amherst or Northampton or Worcester; from our house, we can get to either the Capitol, the Somerville Theatre, or the Revere Showcase in about 15 minutes. They have one pizza place and one Chinese place; the pizza place delivers, the Chinese place doesn't. The choices for sit-down dining are bound to be limited in a town with only 1600 residents; again, satisfaction is at the other end of a lengthy car ride. Hell, it's ten miles from their house to the liquor store.
As with everything else in life, it's a tradeoff: what you get in exchange for what you are willing to give up. As we were driving home Sunday evening, slipping through the city on the Turnpike, the Mrs. gestured outside the car and said, "See, I would miss this too much." I knew exactly what she meant.
05 February 2007
Employees Must Wash Hands
The restrooms where I work got shiny new dispensers for the toilet paper, soap, and paper towels last week. Not exactly a major news story, but I couldn't help but notice that it didn't necessarily result in an improvement in the restroom experience. The soap is the foamy kind, which is fine; it's a little nicer than the gel-like substance it replaced, and lathers more easily. The paper towel dispenser requires a combination of pulling down on the towel and pushing in on a piece of plastic that sits behind the towel, which is pretty counterintuitive, and kind of dumb. The toilet paper is wider and thicker, but quite a bit coarser than what it replaced. So that's 1 for 3. Maybe I'd better stop wishing they'll do something about how the restroom smells.
[On closer inspection, I determined that the plastic push bar is there to help the towel along if pulling off one sheet does not bring the next sheet far enough out of the dispenser to be pulled. My bad. But it's still somewhat kludgy, so 1.5 out of 3.]
Also work-related, but with broader implications as well: just how lazy do you have to be to ride the elevator down one floor? I see this about once a week. Our office is on the sixth floor, which is the top of the building, so I feel somewhat justified in riding the elevator (although, since we publish health newsletters, we are always beingguilted encouraged to use the stairs, and quite a few people do). But people persist in riding from five to four, or three to two. And these are not people with crutches or walkers or wheelchairs; these are able-bodied types, generally in their twenties, and since the rest of the building is a library, most of them are medical students. If anyone should be taking the stairs, it should be them, right? Setting the example?
[On closer inspection, I determined that the plastic push bar is there to help the towel along if pulling off one sheet does not bring the next sheet far enough out of the dispenser to be pulled. My bad. But it's still somewhat kludgy, so 1.5 out of 3.]
Also work-related, but with broader implications as well: just how lazy do you have to be to ride the elevator down one floor? I see this about once a week. Our office is on the sixth floor, which is the top of the building, so I feel somewhat justified in riding the elevator (although, since we publish health newsletters, we are always being
02 February 2007
Button to Button
Size creep, as it has come to be known, is keeping a clothing size's physical measurements the same, but labeling it as a smaller size than it was previously known. It's aimed primarily at women, supposedly to flatter them into thinking they are thinner than they really are, or some marketing BS like that.
J. Crew is practicing reverse size creep; that is, I've had to start buying their clothing in bigger sizes. Their men's size large shirts, and at least one style of sweater, no longer fit me comfortably. They have trimmed the patterns by at least a couple of inches, so while I can button the shirts, there's enough pulling between the buttons to look unattractive. I noticed that the armholes and upper arms are cut more snugly as well. Extra large fits comfortably enough, but the sleeves are a little too long. If anything, they should be going in the opposite direction, given our country's obesity epidemic, or at least consider offering the shirts in more than one fit/cut.
J. Crew is practicing reverse size creep; that is, I've had to start buying their clothing in bigger sizes. Their men's size large shirts, and at least one style of sweater, no longer fit me comfortably. They have trimmed the patterns by at least a couple of inches, so while I can button the shirts, there's enough pulling between the buttons to look unattractive. I noticed that the armholes and upper arms are cut more snugly as well. Extra large fits comfortably enough, but the sleeves are a little too long. If anything, they should be going in the opposite direction, given our country's obesity epidemic, or at least consider offering the shirts in more than one fit/cut.
01 February 2007
Much Ado...
So yeah, here in Boston we now look like a bunch of fools in the wake of yesterday's Mooninite invasion. Clearly the mental geniuses (I attempted to link to the hairy guy's web site, but who knows if it's ever coming back) who were hired to make and place these things didn't use good judgment, and even if the city's response seems like an overreaction in hindsight, it's understandable why they reacted the way they did.
But I have to wonder: even though apparently not one policeman, firefighter, EMS worker, or other emergency response person involved had ever heard of Adult Swim, doesn't it seem like one look at the device in question would make it clear it was some kind of spoof? I mean, it doesn't exactly look threatening, plus it's giving the finger (which, incidentally, made for some amusing moments in the local media, as some TV stations reportedly blurred the digit and others did not). Do we have to be so uptight about everything?
But I have to wonder: even though apparently not one policeman, firefighter, EMS worker, or other emergency response person involved had ever heard of Adult Swim, doesn't it seem like one look at the device in question would make it clear it was some kind of spoof? I mean, it doesn't exactly look threatening, plus it's giving the finger (which, incidentally, made for some amusing moments in the local media, as some TV stations reportedly blurred the digit and others did not). Do we have to be so uptight about everything?
30 January 2007
Good Neighbor
In my neighborhood, the bus into and out of the subway station runs every 20 minutes in the morning and evening. It would be nice if it was every 15 minutes, especially now that it's actually cold outside, but at least I know when to expect the bus to arrive (within a reasonable window of time), and it is generally reliable, which is a near-miracle for the T.
This morning I was just a tiny bit behind schedule. Maybe I took too long to tie my shoes; maybe I was trying to get too many little things done before I left the house. Whatever the reason, the cycle of the traffic light at the corner was against me, and the bus pulled away just before I got to it. I stopped running and was taking a moment to debate the wisdom of walking versus standing still, when I noticed a car had stopped next to me and the driver was gesturing for me to get in. I took a quick look at the car and the driver--no one I knew, so I figured he'd been at the traffic light and had seen me running.
I got in the car, thinking the guy was going to offer to get me ahead of the bus so I could get on at another stop. But he said he was going over to Cambridge and was willing to drop me off anywhere along the way. We determined that Lechmere was a good target because it would not take him out of his way and would give me a direct ride to work. He introduced himself and told me where he lived, on a street that runs off ours. We passed a pleasant 20 minutes talking about the weather, the T, the increasing amount of traffic on the roads during his daily commute, and his daughter's college plans.
He dropped me off at the station, I thanked him, got on the train, and it rolled right out. I ended up getting to work about 15 minutes earlier than usual. So thank you again, Hernan, for making my morning, and my whole day, much more pleasant than it started out to be. Hopefully I'll see you around the neighborhood again.
This morning I was just a tiny bit behind schedule. Maybe I took too long to tie my shoes; maybe I was trying to get too many little things done before I left the house. Whatever the reason, the cycle of the traffic light at the corner was against me, and the bus pulled away just before I got to it. I stopped running and was taking a moment to debate the wisdom of walking versus standing still, when I noticed a car had stopped next to me and the driver was gesturing for me to get in. I took a quick look at the car and the driver--no one I knew, so I figured he'd been at the traffic light and had seen me running.
I got in the car, thinking the guy was going to offer to get me ahead of the bus so I could get on at another stop. But he said he was going over to Cambridge and was willing to drop me off anywhere along the way. We determined that Lechmere was a good target because it would not take him out of his way and would give me a direct ride to work. He introduced himself and told me where he lived, on a street that runs off ours. We passed a pleasant 20 minutes talking about the weather, the T, the increasing amount of traffic on the roads during his daily commute, and his daughter's college plans.
He dropped me off at the station, I thanked him, got on the train, and it rolled right out. I ended up getting to work about 15 minutes earlier than usual. So thank you again, Hernan, for making my morning, and my whole day, much more pleasant than it started out to be. Hopefully I'll see you around the neighborhood again.
29 January 2007
Greyhound Love
If you've read my sidebar over there to the right, you know we have a dog. I've been planning to post about her for a while, and this past weekend marked six months since we brought her home, so it seemed like the right time to do it.
In late July we adopted London*, a retired racing greyhound from Greyhound Welfare, an organization based in the DC area that also has a New England chapter. They hold "open house" events every few weeks at various pet stores around the area where prospective owners can meet several dogs informally and get information about the adoption program. We went to three of these before and during our application and screening process. It was at the second one that we first met London, who had just come into the program and was nervous and shy. But by the next open house a couple of weeks later, she was wagging her tail and generally making herself irresistible.
(*We didn't choose her name; at the time, they were naming the dogs after cities and, though they assured us we could change her name to anything we wanted, we thought it was a good name and saw no reason to change it.)
As part of the adoption process, Greyhound Welfare places dogs with foster families to help them make a successful transition to post-racing life. For example, a racing dog typically does not know how to go up and down stairs, because racing kennels are on one floor. It's easy for the dog to learn, but it requires a little effort, so having the foster family do this lets the adoptive family focus on helping their new friend get comfortable in its new surroundings.
GW is very thorough: their process includes a written application, with required references from people who know you; a phone interview; a visit to your home with an adoptable dog to evaluate safety and general dog-worthiness; and a visit with the dog you are considering adopting at its foster home. They make a concerted effort to match the right dog with the right family.
A greyhound is a good choice for people who work, because they are generally content to spend the day sleeping, and they rarely bark. Contrary to what some think, they don't require a great deal of exercise, but some attention and activity time is necessary for any dog. When I get home from work, I take London outside and she runs a few laps around the yard to release that pent-up energy. But within an hour or so, she's back to lying down on her living-room bed next to us as we watch TV. Of course, some dogs are naturally more energetic than others; London's brother was up for adoption at the same time she was, and it was clear when we met him that he would need much more activity to be content.
Growing up, we had at least one dog in the house from the time I was about three, but as an adult I had never owned a pet until now, so it felt like a big deal. The Mrs. loves all animals, and her mother even raised German shepherds for a while, but this was her first time as a pet owner as well. As a couple who have chosen to be child-free, it still feels a little weird to have something that we are responsible for, that is dependent on us for its care, but it has been a tremendously rewarding experience. And as far as we're concerned, she's earned the right to be lazy. She's retired, after all.
(*We didn't choose her name; at the time, they were naming the dogs after cities and, though they assured us we could change her name to anything we wanted, we thought it was a good name and saw no reason to change it.)
As part of the adoption process, Greyhound Welfare places dogs with foster families to help them make a successful transition to post-racing life. For example, a racing dog typically does not know how to go up and down stairs, because racing kennels are on one floor. It's easy for the dog to learn, but it requires a little effort, so having the foster family do this lets the adoptive family focus on helping their new friend get comfortable in its new surroundings.
GW is very thorough: their process includes a written application, with required references from people who know you; a phone interview; a visit to your home with an adoptable dog to evaluate safety and general dog-worthiness; and a visit with the dog you are considering adopting at its foster home. They make a concerted effort to match the right dog with the right family.
A greyhound is a good choice for people who work, because they are generally content to spend the day sleeping, and they rarely bark. Contrary to what some think, they don't require a great deal of exercise, but some attention and activity time is necessary for any dog. When I get home from work, I take London outside and she runs a few laps around the yard to release that pent-up energy. But within an hour or so, she's back to lying down on her living-room bed next to us as we watch TV. Of course, some dogs are naturally more energetic than others; London's brother was up for adoption at the same time she was, and it was clear when we met him that he would need much more activity to be content.
Growing up, we had at least one dog in the house from the time I was about three, but as an adult I had never owned a pet until now, so it felt like a big deal. The Mrs. loves all animals, and her mother even raised German shepherds for a while, but this was her first time as a pet owner as well. As a couple who have chosen to be child-free, it still feels a little weird to have something that we are responsible for, that is dependent on us for its care, but it has been a tremendously rewarding experience. And as far as we're concerned, she's earned the right to be lazy. She's retired, after all.
23 January 2007
Pet Peeve Dept. Unit
I'm sure all of you readers are courteous, respectful, and well-groomed people, but not everyone else out there in the world is so. Today's gripefest concerns those folks who insist on keeping their overstuffed Godzilla backpacks on while riding the subway. Guess what? Your shit is hitting me, and it's pretty fucking annoying.
I was coming home from work yesterday on the Green Line (a whole realm of torture in itself), minding my own business, reading the paper. Jack and Jill Dumbass get on, Jack stands next to me, and they have a really, really stupid conversation. (I wanted to quote a sample, but it was so insipid I blocked it immediately. I think it was about theater. Sorry RH, if you're reading.) As the train picks up speed it starts to sway, and with each sway Jack's giant backpack hits me on the shoulder. This goes on for about fifteen minutes. Jack never notices, never says anything to me, never attempts to shift his position. I think he finally got out at Park Streeet. On tonight's ride home I got hit in the back of the head by another genius (which he must be, if he needs to carry all those books around). This is where we need a rule that you can just go ahead and smack someone, and get a free pass, and not even have to explain yourself. Maybe we'd all be issued a card or something, and you'd just hand it to the person, and it would read: "You've just been idiot-smacked. Because you're an idiot."
Personally, I haven't used a backpack since college, which was a long time ago. (Even then, I never filled the thing the way people do now.) Shortly after graduation I switched to a messenger-style bag, probably before they were even called that, and I haven't looked back. One reason is because, no longer being in college, I had less stuff to carry for a typical day. I was also in the process of a personal style overhaul and decided it was time for an upgrade. The bag I have now is very thin, so it doesn't stick out from my body much, and the ends of the strap are attached to the bag at an angle, so it is even less obtrusive. Civilized, dare I say.
I know, this is the #1 college "town" in the nation, and a lot of those people whose backpacks are hitting me repeatedly are students who need to lug around every textbook they own, everywhere, every day. But clearly some responsibility is called for, and that's the problem. Everyone has become so selfish, no one gives a shit about anyone else but themselves. People won't even step aside anymore; they walk right at me all the time, and I swear if I didn't move out of the way they would crash right into me, then say it was my fault. At which point I would be forced to use another idiot card.
I was coming home from work yesterday on the Green Line (a whole realm of torture in itself), minding my own business, reading the paper. Jack and Jill Dumbass get on, Jack stands next to me, and they have a really, really stupid conversation. (I wanted to quote a sample, but it was so insipid I blocked it immediately. I think it was about theater. Sorry RH, if you're reading.) As the train picks up speed it starts to sway, and with each sway Jack's giant backpack hits me on the shoulder. This goes on for about fifteen minutes. Jack never notices, never says anything to me, never attempts to shift his position. I think he finally got out at Park Streeet. On tonight's ride home I got hit in the back of the head by another genius (which he must be, if he needs to carry all those books around). This is where we need a rule that you can just go ahead and smack someone, and get a free pass, and not even have to explain yourself. Maybe we'd all be issued a card or something, and you'd just hand it to the person, and it would read: "You've just been idiot-smacked. Because you're an idiot."
Personally, I haven't used a backpack since college, which was a long time ago. (Even then, I never filled the thing the way people do now.) Shortly after graduation I switched to a messenger-style bag, probably before they were even called that, and I haven't looked back. One reason is because, no longer being in college, I had less stuff to carry for a typical day. I was also in the process of a personal style overhaul and decided it was time for an upgrade. The bag I have now is very thin, so it doesn't stick out from my body much, and the ends of the strap are attached to the bag at an angle, so it is even less obtrusive. Civilized, dare I say.
I know, this is the #1 college "town" in the nation, and a lot of those people whose backpacks are hitting me repeatedly are students who need to lug around every textbook they own, everywhere, every day. But clearly some responsibility is called for, and that's the problem. Everyone has become so selfish, no one gives a shit about anyone else but themselves. People won't even step aside anymore; they walk right at me all the time, and I swear if I didn't move out of the way they would crash right into me, then say it was my fault. At which point I would be forced to use another idiot card.
22 January 2007
Silver Screens of Yore
In addition to watching football, I also wasted some time this weekend on a fun web site called Cinema Treasures. I enjoyed looking up information and readers' reminiscences about movie theaters I went to while growing up, or in college, that no longer exist, including the hometown theater where I first saw a little movie called Star Wars.
But be warned: the site's performance is erratic, and it can be very slow.
But be warned: the site's performance is erratic, and it can be very slow.
Season's Over
Ouch, that hurt. Not how our season was supposed to end, especially on an interception. But I don't want to be too hard on Brady and the boys, because they've given us so much great football over the past six seasons. And I was lucky enough to attend my first Patriots game this season, thanks to my brother (the ticket was my birthday present from him).
One observation, though: I've never played or coached football, but I know enough about the game to understand that with three and a half minutes left and a lead in your possession, you give the ball to your running back(s), keep it in bounds, and burn the clock, doing whatever it takes to get the necessary first down(s) to get inside two minutes and take a knee. So why was Tom heaving the ball up there on that next-to-last drive? Three pass attempts equaled no first down, and gave the ball to the Colts with more than enough time to score the winning touchdown, but not enough time (realistically) for the Patriots to answer it.
We can be fairly certain the NFL will schedule the Pats to play both the Colts and Chargers next season, to stoke the rivalries.
I think Belichick and Co. have at least one more Patriots Super Bowl victory in them, but if anything it's going to be more difficult to attain than the previous three. What I'd love to see is a season similar to 2003 and 2004, only better, where the team hardly loses all season and is really dominant, not just in their division but in the whole AFC. I want to see a year where the Pats are the #1 seed, giving them the first-round playoff bye and two home playoff games at Gillette Stadium, a magic carpet ride of a season that leads them to wherever the Super Bowl is being played that year and their fourth championship. That's my idea of fantasy football.
ADDENDUM: I was going to mention (but forgot) that, as a consolation for Patriots fans, spring training for the Red Sox begins in about three weeks.
One observation, though: I've never played or coached football, but I know enough about the game to understand that with three and a half minutes left and a lead in your possession, you give the ball to your running back(s), keep it in bounds, and burn the clock, doing whatever it takes to get the necessary first down(s) to get inside two minutes and take a knee. So why was Tom heaving the ball up there on that next-to-last drive? Three pass attempts equaled no first down, and gave the ball to the Colts with more than enough time to score the winning touchdown, but not enough time (realistically) for the Patriots to answer it.
We can be fairly certain the NFL will schedule the Pats to play both the Colts and Chargers next season, to stoke the rivalries.
I think Belichick and Co. have at least one more Patriots Super Bowl victory in them, but if anything it's going to be more difficult to attain than the previous three. What I'd love to see is a season similar to 2003 and 2004, only better, where the team hardly loses all season and is really dominant, not just in their division but in the whole AFC. I want to see a year where the Pats are the #1 seed, giving them the first-round playoff bye and two home playoff games at Gillette Stadium, a magic carpet ride of a season that leads them to wherever the Super Bowl is being played that year and their fourth championship. That's my idea of fantasy football.
ADDENDUM: I was going to mention (but forgot) that, as a consolation for Patriots fans, spring training for the Red Sox begins in about three weeks.
16 January 2007
Victory, Spoiled
Spent the long weekend mostly relaxing, though that's not the word I'd choose to describe watching either the season premiere of 24 or the Patriots playoff game. Probably "nail-biting" for both. I was totally thrilled the Pats were able to come from behind and beat the Chargers, nerve-racking as it was to watch. When they tied the score via that slick 2-point conversion play with just over four and a half minutes left, I could feel the momentum shifting back to their side, and had renewed faith in their ability to win it. Years from now, when the Brady-Belichick era is over, this game is still going to stand out as a highlight.
However, the victory was somewhat tarnished by the team's behavior after San Diego's 49-yard field goal attempt fell short and to the right. Victory dances are nothing new in the NFL, but they're not something we're accustomed to seeing from the normally decorous Patriots. I have to say I was surprised and a little disappointed to see this sort of unsportsmanlike display from a team that typically considers itself above that sort of thing. I'm sure the players understandably got caught up in the moment, but the Chargers players and fans aren't going to forget it anytime soon. Let's hope Coach Belichick has given the players a good talking-to, and a victory next weekend at Indianapolis is not followed by any similar arrogance.
But to swing it back the other way, the Chargers were acting pretty cocky throughout the week before the game; according to this Boston Globe article, they were already planning their Super Bowl victory celebration. Not a great idea in today's NFL, regardless of your opponent. So who's disrespecting whom?
However, the victory was somewhat tarnished by the team's behavior after San Diego's 49-yard field goal attempt fell short and to the right. Victory dances are nothing new in the NFL, but they're not something we're accustomed to seeing from the normally decorous Patriots. I have to say I was surprised and a little disappointed to see this sort of unsportsmanlike display from a team that typically considers itself above that sort of thing. I'm sure the players understandably got caught up in the moment, but the Chargers players and fans aren't going to forget it anytime soon. Let's hope Coach Belichick has given the players a good talking-to, and a victory next weekend at Indianapolis is not followed by any similar arrogance.
But to swing it back the other way, the Chargers were acting pretty cocky throughout the week before the game; according to this Boston Globe article, they were already planning their Super Bowl victory celebration. Not a great idea in today's NFL, regardless of your opponent. So who's disrespecting whom?
12 January 2007
Dundie Up
This is for all of you who are fans of The Office: my Dunder Mifflin cap arrived today from the NBC online store. I ordered it a couple of days before Christmas, but it wasn't supposed to be shipped out until today, so it arrived nearly a week ahead of schedule.
As much of a fan of the show as I am, I wouldn't want to wear anything that says "The Office." That's just not who I am. But I would wear something that represents the fictional paper company on she show, because I find it a little ironic in a good way, and because I appreciate the reminder of the idea of suspended disbelief: we want to pretend that Dunder Mifflin and its employees are real, if only for half an hour each week. So when I saw this I thought, someone has the right idea. I'm curious to see how long it takes before someone notices and makes a comment to me about it.
As much of a fan of the show as I am, I wouldn't want to wear anything that says "The Office." That's just not who I am. But I would wear something that represents the fictional paper company on she show, because I find it a little ironic in a good way, and because I appreciate the reminder of the idea of suspended disbelief: we want to pretend that Dunder Mifflin and its employees are real, if only for half an hour each week. So when I saw this I thought, someone has the right idea. I'm curious to see how long it takes before someone notices and makes a comment to me about it.
11 January 2007
iWon't
I'm been a huge Apple fan and booster for a long, long time. I bought my first Mac fifteen years ago, and have bought three others since (voluntarily, not because of any hardware or software problems). So naturally I was excited by Tuesday's announcement of the iPhone. But I won't be buying one, for a number of reasons that are going to be shared with many, many other Apple loyalists.
I have an iPod that's only a year old, and even though I love my tech, I don't tend to replace things right away just because a newer, better one comes out. More importantly, I'm not a Cingular customer, and I have no plans to become one. It's not that I feel any particular warm fuzziness toward Verizon Wireless, my cell carrier; in fact I think they're about as evil as any other big corporation, which is to say, plenty evil. But their network is widely considered to be the best in the US, and I'm inclined to agree. I rarely have any issues with call quality or signal strength. (Last week, I got a call from the Mrs. while I was underground, in a subway station.) And it takes only one visit to a cell-phone discussion web site like HowardForums to find plenty of anecdotal evidence that there are lots of places in this country where Cingular's network, um, blows.
I think Apple is making a huge mistake by offering the iPhone only for Cingular. Smartphone makers such as Palm, Samsung, and even Research in Motion, makers of the BlackBerry, understand that the market for their products in the US is spread among the major cellular carriers, a situation that is unlikely to change anytime soon. They maximize their potential sales by offering versions of their devices for most or all the major cell companies. There are plenty of people who would want an iPhone but, for various reasons, are unwilling or unable to switch carriers; Apple has simply shut the door on those potential customers, an uncharacteristic act of corporate ill will that I think will hurt the image of the company, regardless of how many iPhones they do sell.
At some point I hope we'll see a version of the iPod with the iPhone's interface design but without the phone features. Maybe by then I'll be ready for a new one.
I have an iPod that's only a year old, and even though I love my tech, I don't tend to replace things right away just because a newer, better one comes out. More importantly, I'm not a Cingular customer, and I have no plans to become one. It's not that I feel any particular warm fuzziness toward Verizon Wireless, my cell carrier; in fact I think they're about as evil as any other big corporation, which is to say, plenty evil. But their network is widely considered to be the best in the US, and I'm inclined to agree. I rarely have any issues with call quality or signal strength. (Last week, I got a call from the Mrs. while I was underground, in a subway station.) And it takes only one visit to a cell-phone discussion web site like HowardForums to find plenty of anecdotal evidence that there are lots of places in this country where Cingular's network, um, blows.
I think Apple is making a huge mistake by offering the iPhone only for Cingular. Smartphone makers such as Palm, Samsung, and even Research in Motion, makers of the BlackBerry, understand that the market for their products in the US is spread among the major cellular carriers, a situation that is unlikely to change anytime soon. They maximize their potential sales by offering versions of their devices for most or all the major cell companies. There are plenty of people who would want an iPhone but, for various reasons, are unwilling or unable to switch carriers; Apple has simply shut the door on those potential customers, an uncharacteristic act of corporate ill will that I think will hurt the image of the company, regardless of how many iPhones they do sell.
At some point I hope we'll see a version of the iPod with the iPhone's interface design but without the phone features. Maybe by then I'll be ready for a new one.
09 January 2007
How It's Done (Customer Service)
Back in October I bought a new pair of slippers. Normally this would not be cause for a blog entry, even in my warped world. I just needed slippers. My old ones were ratty, so I'd thrown them away when we moved, and since we'd gotten the dog, I needed ones with rubber soles to wear when I took her outside first thing in the morning.
I ordered a pair from Lands' End with the requisite rubber soles and fleece uppers, which seemed like a good idea for the colder months, even if our winter hasn't been very wintry this year. When they arrived, I immediately noticed a strong, unpleasant chemical odor, like you get sometimes with certain plastic or rubber products. I put them outside, figuring the smell would dissipate in a few hours. It didn't. I wore the slippers anyway, because it was chilly in the house.
A couple of months went by, and one night while we were watching TV, the Mrs. said, "What's that smell?" I said, "Oh, it's my slippers." (I was amazed it had taken her that long to notice, because she is extremely sensitive to smells.) I had sort of stopped noticing it, as tends to happen over time, but since she had drawn my attention to it, I noticed it again. If anything, the smell seemed stronger than when I first got the slippers, and it really was noxious, so I decided they needed to go back.
I called Lands' End customer service. One thing I wanted to know was if other people had noticed the smell, but the person I talked to said it was the first time she'd heard of it. "Still," she said, "it's obvious you're not satisfied with the purchase, and you shouldn't be. If you live near a Sears store, you can just take them back there, and save the time and cost of shipping them back to us." I appreciated the acknowledgement that something had gone wrong with my Lands' End shopping experience, and they wanted to make it right as quickly and easily as possible. She told me I would need my order number, which she provided.
When Sears had bought Lands' End a few years back. It seemed like an odd match, and it wasn't the smoothest integration. When the LE merchandise started showing up in (some, but not all of) the stores, it was scattered among the other junk Sears sells, and it just kind of got lost. I try not to spend much time in Sears anyway, becuase honestly, it's just way too depressing to be in the vicinity of that much polyester. But I was on a mission, so off I went.
Apparently someone got the message about the product presentation in the stores, because they now have a dedicated Lands' End section, much like how you'll find Polo or DKNY in a more upscale department store. Definitely the right idea. There's even a sitting area with a sofa and chairs, for your significant other's marathon try-on sessions. The smart part is, the clerks use that order number to access your order history and personal information stored with Lands' End, so they don't even need to swipe your credit card to process the refund. Seamless, painless, and it took only about 30 seconds. And I found some suitable, non-smelling slippers on clearance at Macy's, for less than half of what I'd paid for the Lands' End ones.
I ordered a pair from Lands' End with the requisite rubber soles and fleece uppers, which seemed like a good idea for the colder months, even if our winter hasn't been very wintry this year. When they arrived, I immediately noticed a strong, unpleasant chemical odor, like you get sometimes with certain plastic or rubber products. I put them outside, figuring the smell would dissipate in a few hours. It didn't. I wore the slippers anyway, because it was chilly in the house.
A couple of months went by, and one night while we were watching TV, the Mrs. said, "What's that smell?" I said, "Oh, it's my slippers." (I was amazed it had taken her that long to notice, because she is extremely sensitive to smells.) I had sort of stopped noticing it, as tends to happen over time, but since she had drawn my attention to it, I noticed it again. If anything, the smell seemed stronger than when I first got the slippers, and it really was noxious, so I decided they needed to go back.
I called Lands' End customer service. One thing I wanted to know was if other people had noticed the smell, but the person I talked to said it was the first time she'd heard of it. "Still," she said, "it's obvious you're not satisfied with the purchase, and you shouldn't be. If you live near a Sears store, you can just take them back there, and save the time and cost of shipping them back to us." I appreciated the acknowledgement that something had gone wrong with my Lands' End shopping experience, and they wanted to make it right as quickly and easily as possible. She told me I would need my order number, which she provided.
When Sears had bought Lands' End a few years back. It seemed like an odd match, and it wasn't the smoothest integration. When the LE merchandise started showing up in (some, but not all of) the stores, it was scattered among the other junk Sears sells, and it just kind of got lost. I try not to spend much time in Sears anyway, becuase honestly, it's just way too depressing to be in the vicinity of that much polyester. But I was on a mission, so off I went.
Apparently someone got the message about the product presentation in the stores, because they now have a dedicated Lands' End section, much like how you'll find Polo or DKNY in a more upscale department store. Definitely the right idea. There's even a sitting area with a sofa and chairs, for your significant other's marathon try-on sessions. The smart part is, the clerks use that order number to access your order history and personal information stored with Lands' End, so they don't even need to swipe your credit card to process the refund. Seamless, painless, and it took only about 30 seconds. And I found some suitable, non-smelling slippers on clearance at Macy's, for less than half of what I'd paid for the Lands' End ones.
08 January 2007
Fight Parking Abuse
One of the cool things about blogging is that it makes you want to read other people's blogs. And when you start doing that, you come across some truly inspired stuff.
Submitted for your appraisal: youparklikeanasshole. (While not technically a blog, I found it through the Boston blog Universal Hub.) My hat's off to the person who came up with this. Not only are the notices a fantastic idea (print up some and keep 'em in your car for when you need them), but the site's creator has set up a gallery where you can upload photos of the parking infractors (is that a word? ooh, it is--I checked) in action. I'm certain the Mrs. and I will get frequent use of the "that's a compact?" category at the Porter Square Shopping Center's notorious parking lot. Maybe handing these out will score some parking karma points?
I wish they'd leave the license plates readable in the gallery pictures, but in our overly litigious society, obscuring them is probably the safe bet. I'd also like to see the locations of the asshole parkers, but maybe that isn't being done for the same reason. Nonetheless, it's sheer brilliance, the kind of thing that makes the web great.
Submitted for your appraisal: youparklikeanasshole. (While not technically a blog, I found it through the Boston blog Universal Hub.) My hat's off to the person who came up with this. Not only are the notices a fantastic idea (print up some and keep 'em in your car for when you need them), but the site's creator has set up a gallery where you can upload photos of the parking infractors (is that a word? ooh, it is--I checked) in action. I'm certain the Mrs. and I will get frequent use of the "that's a compact?" category at the Porter Square Shopping Center's notorious parking lot. Maybe handing these out will score some parking karma points?
I wish they'd leave the license plates readable in the gallery pictures, but in our overly litigious society, obscuring them is probably the safe bet. I'd also like to see the locations of the asshole parkers, but maybe that isn't being done for the same reason. Nonetheless, it's sheer brilliance, the kind of thing that makes the web great.
04 January 2007
Hold the... Everything
I've avoided picking on the cafeteria at work because it just seemed like too easy a target, not really worthy of my scorn. Besides, there are plenty of other good eats nearby (which you already know if you've been playing along at home). I have not bought lunch from the caf for probably about two months, mostly because their daily offerings were either boring me to tears or making me lose my appetite. They used to have an okay sandwich station, but they did away with it several months ago and substituted pre-made sandwiches, which taste about the same, only older and more expensive. Also, it seems like it would be a simple thing to post the day's menus ahead of time, since I often stop there in the morning for coffee, but when I do, it's invariably the previous day's menu that is still on the board, which is kind of not helpful.
Today I was on my way to the mailbox at lunchtime, and I was feeling kind of lazy about the whole lunch thing, so I decided to pop into the caf and see what was on the menu. The "BBQ chicken sandwich with cheese, bacon, and caramelized onions" caught my eye, naturally. As it turned out, the chicken breast was fried, which wouldn't be a deal-breaker for most people, but I think you'd agree it's not the healthiest thing a world-renowned medical school could be serving up for lunch, and they often serve grilled chicken so it wouldn't be an anomaly. Oh, and the bacon? Apparently by "bacon" they meant "green peppers," because that's what was on my sandwich, and I can't stand peppers. And there were mushrooms too, which I like, but they weren't mentioned; the Mrs. definitely would have freaked out, because she hates them (and that sort of thing seems to happen to her a lot where take-away food is concerned).
So I think I'm done with the caf for good, except for the coffee. And even there, I'd rather have Dunkin' Donuts. Except they almost always put in either too much cream, or not enough...
Today I was on my way to the mailbox at lunchtime, and I was feeling kind of lazy about the whole lunch thing, so I decided to pop into the caf and see what was on the menu. The "BBQ chicken sandwich with cheese, bacon, and caramelized onions" caught my eye, naturally. As it turned out, the chicken breast was fried, which wouldn't be a deal-breaker for most people, but I think you'd agree it's not the healthiest thing a world-renowned medical school could be serving up for lunch, and they often serve grilled chicken so it wouldn't be an anomaly. Oh, and the bacon? Apparently by "bacon" they meant "green peppers," because that's what was on my sandwich, and I can't stand peppers. And there were mushrooms too, which I like, but they weren't mentioned; the Mrs. definitely would have freaked out, because she hates them (and that sort of thing seems to happen to her a lot where take-away food is concerned).
So I think I'm done with the caf for good, except for the coffee. And even there, I'd rather have Dunkin' Donuts. Except they almost always put in either too much cream, or not enough...
02 January 2007
Holiday Hiatus
Happy New Year, blogheads!
You know how the TV networks don't show any new episodes during the holiday weeks because people have lots of other stuff going on? That's how it was with me and the blog. I had 11 days off from work, and there was plenty of shopping, family visiting, and over-indulging to be done, plus a marathon viewing of the entire first season of How I Met Your Mother, courtesy of Netflix. Also, the Mrs.' sister came in from California on Thursday for a visit, a much-deserved break from nursing school and motherhood. We ate, we shopped, we ate some more, we even managed to slip in a little culture.
So today we begin the process of slowly trying to get back into the normal routine. But after days and days of blissfully sleeping in, it's going to take me the rest of the week (at least) to get used to getting up at 6:30 again. Damn gainful employment...
You know how the TV networks don't show any new episodes during the holiday weeks because people have lots of other stuff going on? That's how it was with me and the blog. I had 11 days off from work, and there was plenty of shopping, family visiting, and over-indulging to be done, plus a marathon viewing of the entire first season of How I Met Your Mother, courtesy of Netflix. Also, the Mrs.' sister came in from California on Thursday for a visit, a much-deserved break from nursing school and motherhood. We ate, we shopped, we ate some more, we even managed to slip in a little culture.
So today we begin the process of slowly trying to get back into the normal routine. But after days and days of blissfully sleeping in, it's going to take me the rest of the week (at least) to get used to getting up at 6:30 again. Damn gainful employment...
16 December 2006
O &@#$% Christmas Tree!
The annual ritual of getting and decorating a Christmas tree goes a long way toward imbuing me with holiday spirit. Over here at the Some Assembly Required household, we have achieved 2006's tree, but it wasn't easy. We are what my grandparents' generation would have called a "mixed marriage"--I'm of the Christian persuasion, the Mrs. is not. However, this is not a source of conflict: neither of us is religiously observant, and she does not mind having a Christmas tree in the house because its origins are pagan, and because it makes the house smell good ("Like a giant air freshener," she says, and it's true).
But the Mrs. is (understandably) not enthused about being involved in choosing a tree, bringing it home, or decorating it. In past years I could walk to a nearby park, where a local organization set up a tree sales lot every year, and with the help of another person, could carry the tree back to my house on foot in about ten minutes. But you may remember that we moved several months ago, so that's no longer an option. I could not find a similar setup anywhere near our new home, so I enlisted the help of a friend. Last Tuesday after work we went to the nearby Home Depot, where they had lots and lots of trees, most for the reasonable price of $30. They cut the trunk, they put it through that funky machine that encases it in a net bag, they helped us tie it to the roof of the car. (Thanks, Home Depot person named Liz.)
But when we got back to the house with the tree, I discovered that in the process of moving, I had ethier misplaced or discarded my tree stand. I'm honestly not sure which, and I can't find any conclusive evidence to support either possibility. But it's fairly large, so there are only a few boxes it could have been in, and it wasn't in any of them. I figured it would be a simple task to just go out and get another one. Yeah, right.
Over the course of the next three days (keeping in mind I had to fit these trips around other silly stuff like working and sleeping), I went to the following places, none of which had any tree stands: one Brooks Drug; two Walgreens (quite possibly the most depressing and useless stores on the planet); three different CVS stores (they had one advertised in their flyer, but I never saw one); Kmart (where I actually found a helpful human who told me they'd sold out), Bed Bath & Beyond (a long shot, I know); a Christmas Tree Shop (oh, the irony--isn't this why they exist?); the Home Depot where I'd purchased the tree (they had only outdoor decorations). By the way, all this time my tree was sitting in the garage, wondering what it had done wrong to be punished in this way.
Finally on Saturday, I knew I had to interrupt my regularly scheduled holiday shopping to find a stand before my head exploded. I know I should have just gone to Target, but the buses only run once an hour, so it's a tedious and somewhat out-of-the-way trip. So I decided to think strategically about where I would be most likely to find one. I ended up at the Central Square branch of a locally-owned store called Economy Hardware. They're a kind of one-stop shop for college living; in addition to all the regular hardware goodies, they carry everything from unfinished pine dressers to toaster ovens. And, mercifully, holiday decorations and accessories. As a bonus for running all over greater Boston, it was 40% off.
The Mrs. was kind enough to give me a hand getting the tree in the house and into the stand. We did that yesterday, but after being wrapped up for so long, I knew it would need at least a full day for the branches to fall open, so the decorating is going to take place tonight, perhaps while watching Monday Night Football (in our house, we root for the Patriots and whichever team is playing the Colts). After everything I went through, I'm thinking of keeping it up as long as it survives. Valentine's tree?
Now, to get working on those cards...
But the Mrs. is (understandably) not enthused about being involved in choosing a tree, bringing it home, or decorating it. In past years I could walk to a nearby park, where a local organization set up a tree sales lot every year, and with the help of another person, could carry the tree back to my house on foot in about ten minutes. But you may remember that we moved several months ago, so that's no longer an option. I could not find a similar setup anywhere near our new home, so I enlisted the help of a friend. Last Tuesday after work we went to the nearby Home Depot, where they had lots and lots of trees, most for the reasonable price of $30. They cut the trunk, they put it through that funky machine that encases it in a net bag, they helped us tie it to the roof of the car. (Thanks, Home Depot person named Liz.)
But when we got back to the house with the tree, I discovered that in the process of moving, I had ethier misplaced or discarded my tree stand. I'm honestly not sure which, and I can't find any conclusive evidence to support either possibility. But it's fairly large, so there are only a few boxes it could have been in, and it wasn't in any of them. I figured it would be a simple task to just go out and get another one. Yeah, right.
Over the course of the next three days (keeping in mind I had to fit these trips around other silly stuff like working and sleeping), I went to the following places, none of which had any tree stands: one Brooks Drug; two Walgreens (quite possibly the most depressing and useless stores on the planet); three different CVS stores (they had one advertised in their flyer, but I never saw one); Kmart (where I actually found a helpful human who told me they'd sold out), Bed Bath & Beyond (a long shot, I know); a Christmas Tree Shop (oh, the irony--isn't this why they exist?); the Home Depot where I'd purchased the tree (they had only outdoor decorations). By the way, all this time my tree was sitting in the garage, wondering what it had done wrong to be punished in this way.
Finally on Saturday, I knew I had to interrupt my regularly scheduled holiday shopping to find a stand before my head exploded. I know I should have just gone to Target, but the buses only run once an hour, so it's a tedious and somewhat out-of-the-way trip. So I decided to think strategically about where I would be most likely to find one. I ended up at the Central Square branch of a locally-owned store called Economy Hardware. They're a kind of one-stop shop for college living; in addition to all the regular hardware goodies, they carry everything from unfinished pine dressers to toaster ovens. And, mercifully, holiday decorations and accessories. As a bonus for running all over greater Boston, it was 40% off.
The Mrs. was kind enough to give me a hand getting the tree in the house and into the stand. We did that yesterday, but after being wrapped up for so long, I knew it would need at least a full day for the branches to fall open, so the decorating is going to take place tonight, perhaps while watching Monday Night Football (in our house, we root for the Patriots and whichever team is playing the Colts). After everything I went through, I'm thinking of keeping it up as long as it survives. Valentine's tree?
Now, to get working on those cards...
13 December 2006
Sneaker Flashback
Remember the 80's? Sure, who could forget? All those crazy fashions that (of course) are coming back. One thing that never really went away, but dropped below the fashion radar, was black sneakers in general and black Reeboks in particular.
The Ex-O-Fit (available in both low and high versions) was marketed to men as a general fitness shoe (years before "cross-trainers"). Not a running shoe, not a tennis shoe, not a basketball shoe. Just a general casual athletic shoe. Pure marketing genius. They were/are also made in white, but the black ones were much cooler. Just about everybody wore them; the women's version (which had come out first), called Freestyle, was marketed as an aerobics shoe.
I recently stumbled across the Ex-O-Fit at the web site Shoes.com. I don't think I had ever looked at the site before. It's a lot like Zappos and ShoeBuy: lots of brands, everything at pretty much list price, free shipping both ways in case you need to exchange for a different size.
But I didn't end up buying the Ex-O-Fits. Even though I like the overall design, I was on the fence about them because of a couple of small style details (typical). Then I found another classic, though less popular, Reebok style on the same site that had also been around since the 80's and was also available in black: the NPC tennis shoe. I had owned a pair of white NPC's and had really liked them, not least because they're almost entirely devoid of unnecessary detail. Some people would say that makes them boring; I say that makes them subtle. I've never liked the busy, overdone look of modern sneakers anyway.
I didn't know they were still available in any color, so I was pleased to see them and decided I needed a pair in black. But I have to be honest: I'm having a little buyer's remorse. I kind of wish I'd gotten the Ex-O-Fits after all. Maybe it's just nostalgia. Maybe I'll buy them anyway.
The Ex-O-Fit (available in both low and high versions) was marketed to men as a general fitness shoe (years before "cross-trainers"). Not a running shoe, not a tennis shoe, not a basketball shoe. Just a general casual athletic shoe. Pure marketing genius. They were/are also made in white, but the black ones were much cooler. Just about everybody wore them; the women's version (which had come out first), called Freestyle, was marketed as an aerobics shoe.
I recently stumbled across the Ex-O-Fit at the web site Shoes.com. I don't think I had ever looked at the site before. It's a lot like Zappos and ShoeBuy: lots of brands, everything at pretty much list price, free shipping both ways in case you need to exchange for a different size.
But I didn't end up buying the Ex-O-Fits. Even though I like the overall design, I was on the fence about them because of a couple of small style details (typical). Then I found another classic, though less popular, Reebok style on the same site that had also been around since the 80's and was also available in black: the NPC tennis shoe. I had owned a pair of white NPC's and had really liked them, not least because they're almost entirely devoid of unnecessary detail. Some people would say that makes them boring; I say that makes them subtle. I've never liked the busy, overdone look of modern sneakers anyway.
I didn't know they were still available in any color, so I was pleased to see them and decided I needed a pair in black. But I have to be honest: I'm having a little buyer's remorse. I kind of wish I'd gotten the Ex-O-Fits after all. Maybe it's just nostalgia. Maybe I'll buy them anyway.
07 December 2006
Strategic Shopping
Sorry for my absence--I had a couple of days off and spent much of it shopping. The Northshore Mall was busy on Tuesday afternoon, but not unbearable. It got me thinking about how I approach holiday shopping. I genuinely enjoy the holiday season, but the pressures of gift giving (and the infernal music in the stores) have a way of taking a toll on even the most enthused shopper. That energy is better spent on other things; you need to keep your head about you and face the task with tactical efficiency. And so I'm offering my unsolicited advice on how to be a ruthless guerilla shopper:
- It goes without saying (but I'll say it anyway) that the biggest stress-saver is to shop online. If you plan ahead even a little, you can probably cross off at least half the items on your list.
- If your goal is a specific item, use a web site like PriceGrabber to search for the best price. Even if you plan to buy it in person, it can guide you to the local store with the best price.
- Solicit ideas from your family members and friends: if you aren't sure what someone likes or needs or wants, ask. Try to get several ideas so there's still some element of surprise. If you don't want to ask directly, talk to another person close to the recipient; chances are they've already heard some wishes. (I always quiz my mother about my brother and sister.)
- Look for inspiration: ignore the displays of junky "gifts" in the stores. Flip through magazines and newspapers. Read web sites and gift guides. Check out what other people are buying.
- Avoid the places that are most likely to give you agita, like toy stores. If you need a gift from such a place, it can almost certainly be found online easily enough, and probably for less money.
- Go to malls or big stores at odd hours. Early or late is best, and most stores have extended hours to accommodate strategic shoppers like yourself. Maybe you can squeeze in a stop at the mall before going to work, or do a late-night run.
- Set a time limit so you don't exhaust yourself. Wear good walking shoes and drink water.
- Divide and conquer: two can shop more efficiently than one.
- Shop smaller, local stores: you are more likely to be inspired by the less-common items you'll find there.
- Buy something for yourself. Yes, that's right. No one ever gets everything they want, so choose something and treat yourself. You deserve it. We all do.
02 December 2006
Guilty Pleasure of the Week: Ellen
(Yes, I stole this idea from Sidekick. If they want me to stop, they'll have to notice me first.)
I've never been one to watch daytime TV. Not in a few decades, at least. Sure, as a preschooler I can vaguely remember watching soap operas with my mother, and a few years later I used my younger sister as an excuse to watch Sesame Street for a while (until PBS started The Electric Company, which was geared more to kids my own age). A few more years down the line, I watched my share of Speed Racer and Gilligan's Island reruns on channel 56 in the afternoons after school, on a black-and-white TV in the bedroom I shared with my brother. But after age 12 or 13, I just wasn't interested anymore, plus I was starting to get more homework and needed that time to get it done. Even now, I wouldn't turn on the TV during the day, unless it was to check the weather. But then something happened.
Because of my work schedule, I'm usually home on Fridays. Our dog has a bed in the living room, and when one or both of us is home it's where she spends most of her day, dozing in various funny positions. One Friday morning a few weeks ago, I turned on the TV to check the weather and noticed that, even though she never looks at the screen, the dog seemed to find the sound soothing, so I left it on and went to do some laundry.
When I came back into the room a while later, Ellen was on. I thought I had left the TV on New England Cable News, which is one channel above the channel that shows Ellen. I was about to change it back, but Ellen was showing pictures of herself, head shots from earlier phases of her career, and making fun of her clothes and hairstyles ("Check out that mullet!"). I didn't sit down, but I watched the rest of the segment. Since then I've seen a couple of other snippets, including Hugh Jackman performing a magic trick. I've never seen an entire show, but I've certainly enjoyed the bits and pieces I have seen.
I won't be making a point to watch it when I'm home, and I won't be setting my TiVo to record it, but I can appreciate it for what it is: entertaining daytime television. I always thought Ellen DeGeneres was a petty funny comedian, but I've also always been skeptical of the trend of celebrities attempting to do talk shows. Look at the track record; the list of "personalities" whose shows (daytime and nighttime) have failed is long: Chevy Chase, Dennis Miller, Jane Pauley, Magic Johnson. I didn't think Ellen's show would be any different, but it is, because she's such a natural entertainer, and I think that makes a huge difference.
I've never been one to watch daytime TV. Not in a few decades, at least. Sure, as a preschooler I can vaguely remember watching soap operas with my mother, and a few years later I used my younger sister as an excuse to watch Sesame Street for a while (until PBS started The Electric Company, which was geared more to kids my own age). A few more years down the line, I watched my share of Speed Racer and Gilligan's Island reruns on channel 56 in the afternoons after school, on a black-and-white TV in the bedroom I shared with my brother. But after age 12 or 13, I just wasn't interested anymore, plus I was starting to get more homework and needed that time to get it done. Even now, I wouldn't turn on the TV during the day, unless it was to check the weather. But then something happened.
Because of my work schedule, I'm usually home on Fridays. Our dog has a bed in the living room, and when one or both of us is home it's where she spends most of her day, dozing in various funny positions. One Friday morning a few weeks ago, I turned on the TV to check the weather and noticed that, even though she never looks at the screen, the dog seemed to find the sound soothing, so I left it on and went to do some laundry.
When I came back into the room a while later, Ellen was on. I thought I had left the TV on New England Cable News, which is one channel above the channel that shows Ellen. I was about to change it back, but Ellen was showing pictures of herself, head shots from earlier phases of her career, and making fun of her clothes and hairstyles ("Check out that mullet!"). I didn't sit down, but I watched the rest of the segment. Since then I've seen a couple of other snippets, including Hugh Jackman performing a magic trick. I've never seen an entire show, but I've certainly enjoyed the bits and pieces I have seen.
I won't be making a point to watch it when I'm home, and I won't be setting my TiVo to record it, but I can appreciate it for what it is: entertaining daytime television. I always thought Ellen DeGeneres was a petty funny comedian, but I've also always been skeptical of the trend of celebrities attempting to do talk shows. Look at the track record; the list of "personalities" whose shows (daytime and nighttime) have failed is long: Chevy Chase, Dennis Miller, Jane Pauley, Magic Johnson. I didn't think Ellen's show would be any different, but it is, because she's such a natural entertainer, and I think that makes a huge difference.
29 November 2006
Crazy Gadgets Dept.
Holy hell, I love finding stuff like this. Manscaping gone mad! How'd you like to get one of these for Christmas? And remember, gifts say as much about the giver as they do about the recipient...
28 November 2006
And We're Back...
...after a brief holiday break filled with food, folks, and fun (is it copyright infringement if they're no longer using it?).
It was great to see everyone at my godson's third birthday party on Saturday. The battery in our camera was dead and we lamely couldn't get our act together to get a new one in time for the party, so the only pictures I have are in my phone. Since my provider intentionally cripples the Bluetooth in its phones, I can't send them wirelessly to my computer, and I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of paying to email them to myself, so sorry, no pix. But if you were there, you know how cute he is.
Regular programming will resume shortly...
It was great to see everyone at my godson's third birthday party on Saturday. The battery in our camera was dead and we lamely couldn't get our act together to get a new one in time for the party, so the only pictures I have are in my phone. Since my provider intentionally cripples the Bluetooth in its phones, I can't send them wirelessly to my computer, and I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of paying to email them to myself, so sorry, no pix. But if you were there, you know how cute he is.
Regular programming will resume shortly...
22 November 2006
Black Friday Blackout
With my evident enthusiasm for shopping, you might assume I'd be one of those people lining up somewhere in the predawn chill this Friday, aching to get my hands on a "doorbuster."
Not a chance.
When I was young, like in my teens, I would indeed venture to the mall the day after Thanksgiving to start my Christmas shopping. But I never got out of bed before the sun was up to do it. (Actually, back then the stores didn't open early like they do now.) And I'm not about to start now. Why not? Numerous reasons: I don't like crowds. It's probably going to be cold. I like sleeping. I don't have kids, and toys are often the items that are offered at special prices for those few precious hours. But probably the most important reason: there's nothing I need badly enough to make me haul my ass out of bed in the dark and cold, the morning after stuffing myself into oblivion, on a day I don't have to get up for work, to queue up to worship at the altar of commerce.
(By the way, if you are into this sort of thing, this web site might be useful.)
I don't understand why people do this. I don't understand a lot of things people do: I don't understand why people would travel all the way to Italy to stand outside a hotel hoping to get a distant glimpse of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. I don't understand why people flat-out worship Oprah. I don't understand why people shop at Wal-Mart, or eat at Olive Garden, or watch Ghost Whisperer. And because I don't understand the reasons, I reflexively look down on those people and assume they are losers who need a life. Does that make me a cynic and a curmudgeon? Yup. A Northeast, liberal, elitist snob? I sure hope so, because that means I'm automatically disqualified from participating in the day-after-Thanksgiving shopping frenzy.
What I might do on Friday is go check out the Tower Records liquidation sale, which has finally reached discount levels that make it worth a look. Late in the afternoon, though, or at night, when things have died down a little.
And to everyone out there, especially my friends: Happy Thanksgiving. For real, no cynicism.
Not a chance.
When I was young, like in my teens, I would indeed venture to the mall the day after Thanksgiving to start my Christmas shopping. But I never got out of bed before the sun was up to do it. (Actually, back then the stores didn't open early like they do now.) And I'm not about to start now. Why not? Numerous reasons: I don't like crowds. It's probably going to be cold. I like sleeping. I don't have kids, and toys are often the items that are offered at special prices for those few precious hours. But probably the most important reason: there's nothing I need badly enough to make me haul my ass out of bed in the dark and cold, the morning after stuffing myself into oblivion, on a day I don't have to get up for work, to queue up to worship at the altar of commerce.
(By the way, if you are into this sort of thing, this web site might be useful.)
I don't understand why people do this. I don't understand a lot of things people do: I don't understand why people would travel all the way to Italy to stand outside a hotel hoping to get a distant glimpse of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. I don't understand why people flat-out worship Oprah. I don't understand why people shop at Wal-Mart, or eat at Olive Garden, or watch Ghost Whisperer. And because I don't understand the reasons, I reflexively look down on those people and assume they are losers who need a life. Does that make me a cynic and a curmudgeon? Yup. A Northeast, liberal, elitist snob? I sure hope so, because that means I'm automatically disqualified from participating in the day-after-Thanksgiving shopping frenzy.
What I might do on Friday is go check out the Tower Records liquidation sale, which has finally reached discount levels that make it worth a look. Late in the afternoon, though, or at night, when things have died down a little.
And to everyone out there, especially my friends: Happy Thanksgiving. For real, no cynicism.
21 November 2006
Vile Media Whore Dept.
I didn't have any intention of mentioning this subject, but I just read this bit in Gregg Easterbrook's "Tuesday Morning Quarterback" column on ESPN.com and thought it was a very apt take on the situation:
"And in sad, nauseating news, O.J. Simpson has confessed. There is no way on God's green Earth an innocent man, falsely accused, could put his name on a book in which he 'imagines' what it 'would' have been like to cut a helpless woman's throat. His acquittal might protect Simpson from jail, but it no longer protects his honor; Simpson himself has voided that by doing something that only a guilty man would even contemplate. Maybe at this point Simpson belongs in a treatment facility for the criminally insane--but he does not belong in the Hall of Fame or on the wall at Ralph Wilson Stadium. His bust must immediately be removed from Canton and his name pulled down from that place of respect. Take a crowbar to them today. The fact that Fox and its publishing subsidiary just canceled the book and associated television show does not create any excuse for the National Football League. Any other course other than the removal of Simpson's bust from the Hall and his name from the stadium wall will put the NFL in a state of disgrace. Once the bust and the name are gone, sandblast the areas to get the filth off."
Will it happen? Probably not. But it's nice to contemplate.
"And in sad, nauseating news, O.J. Simpson has confessed. There is no way on God's green Earth an innocent man, falsely accused, could put his name on a book in which he 'imagines' what it 'would' have been like to cut a helpless woman's throat. His acquittal might protect Simpson from jail, but it no longer protects his honor; Simpson himself has voided that by doing something that only a guilty man would even contemplate. Maybe at this point Simpson belongs in a treatment facility for the criminally insane--but he does not belong in the Hall of Fame or on the wall at Ralph Wilson Stadium. His bust must immediately be removed from Canton and his name pulled down from that place of respect. Take a crowbar to them today. The fact that Fox and its publishing subsidiary just canceled the book and associated television show does not create any excuse for the National Football League. Any other course other than the removal of Simpson's bust from the Hall and his name from the stadium wall will put the NFL in a state of disgrace. Once the bust and the name are gone, sandblast the areas to get the filth off."
Will it happen? Probably not. But it's nice to contemplate.
Premature Turkulation?
So I just went to get lunch, and I was thinking--is it weird to want turkey so close to T-day? (Yeah, my mind is on food a lot this week--so what?) I typically get a turkey sandwich about once a week. Of course, most places don't serve actual turkey that's been carved off a bird, but rather some processed lunch meat-type stuff, but it still originates from a bird so it should still count as turkey. But eating this sandwich won't dull my enthusiasm; come Thursday I'll be digging into the white meat and all the goodies that go with it. (And yes, I do like the cranberry sauce that comes in a can--so what?)
It's not like it's one of those disgusting sandwiches some places offer with turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and even cranberry sauce, either on bread or in a wrap. I'm not making this up; I've seen this abomination recently, I just can't remember where. If you've seen this sandwich, which I think is usually called a "Gobbler," help me out.
It's not like it's one of those disgusting sandwiches some places offer with turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and even cranberry sauce, either on bread or in a wrap. I'm not making this up; I've seen this abomination recently, I just can't remember where. If you've seen this sandwich, which I think is usually called a "Gobbler," help me out.
19 November 2006
Monsters of Moo
One excellent perk that goes along with shopping for furniture at the Jordan's Furniture location in Reading, MA is that the store has a satellite location of Richardson's Ice Cream. Richardson's has been a Massachusetts favorite for decades and part of a family dairy farming heritage that goes back over three centuries. They raise the cows that make the milk that makes the ice cream. At any given time they have around 50 flavors at the main location in Middleton, MA (some are seasonal, like pumpkin and apple crisp for fall), while the Jordan's location has about 40.
Over the course of our furniture-buying odyssey, we made several visits to Jordan's, and each time we topped it off with ice cream. My current favorite is Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Twirl. The peanut butter tastes homemade to me; I should have asked if it is. The Mrs. keeps getting Toll House, which is vanilla ice cream with pieces of baked chocolate chip cookies. We're now at the point where we wil drive to the store just to get ice cream; it's that good. Fortunately the folks at Richardson's are smart enough to package their ice cream in quarts and half-gallons, so we don't have to keep going back. But we probably will anyway.
Over the course of our furniture-buying odyssey, we made several visits to Jordan's, and each time we topped it off with ice cream. My current favorite is Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Twirl. The peanut butter tastes homemade to me; I should have asked if it is. The Mrs. keeps getting Toll House, which is vanilla ice cream with pieces of baked chocolate chip cookies. We're now at the point where we wil drive to the store just to get ice cream; it's that good. Fortunately the folks at Richardson's are smart enough to package their ice cream in quarts and half-gallons, so we don't have to keep going back. But we probably will anyway.
18 November 2006
Drawer Space
My wife's interest in a new dresser came out of the blue, as she hadn't said anything about it. In fact, it wasn't until a couple of days after we'd been to the furniture store that she mentioned it. We hadn't even looked in the bedroom section. But to be fair, the dresser she was using had been mine, and long before that it had been my father's, so she was overdue for an upgrade. I suggested we go back to the store.
I was a little surprised when she started looking at pieces that were not even close to our existing bedroom furniture in style or finish. She explained that her primary interest was getting the greatest possible amount of drawer space, and appearance was secondary. I should have anticipated this, because it's how her mind works in general. She spent an hour with a tape measure and a piece of paper, roughing out capacities in cubic inches, while I just sort of stood around, wondering how she could completely ignore aesthetics. Occasionally she asked my opinion of something, but I had the feeling it didn't really matter what I thought.
We went home; this had been merely an exploratory mission. Several weeks went by. Eventually I asked her if she had been thinking about choosing a dresser. She said she had, but she needed to go back to reconsider the various styles she'd noted on the previous visit. I understood this to mean it was finally time to consider appearance as a factor in the decision. Back we went. This time it wasn't as tedious, because she'd already narrowed the choices. The second look was eye-opening for her; once looks and style became part of the equation, I think she was a little surprised (and I was relieved) at how much she disliked some of the styles she had been interested in previously. (I tend to do the opposite: aesthetics first, function second.)
In the end, there was really only one good choice, and it happened to coordinate nicely with the pieces we already had. Of course it was out of stock, and the expected delivery time was five to eight weeks. But it turned out it took only three weeks before it was in stock, and it was delivered a week ago. Now, if I can just get the Mrs. to start putting her clothes into it...
I was a little surprised when she started looking at pieces that were not even close to our existing bedroom furniture in style or finish. She explained that her primary interest was getting the greatest possible amount of drawer space, and appearance was secondary. I should have anticipated this, because it's how her mind works in general. She spent an hour with a tape measure and a piece of paper, roughing out capacities in cubic inches, while I just sort of stood around, wondering how she could completely ignore aesthetics. Occasionally she asked my opinion of something, but I had the feeling it didn't really matter what I thought.
We went home; this had been merely an exploratory mission. Several weeks went by. Eventually I asked her if she had been thinking about choosing a dresser. She said she had, but she needed to go back to reconsider the various styles she'd noted on the previous visit. I understood this to mean it was finally time to consider appearance as a factor in the decision. Back we went. This time it wasn't as tedious, because she'd already narrowed the choices. The second look was eye-opening for her; once looks and style became part of the equation, I think she was a little surprised (and I was relieved) at how much she disliked some of the styles she had been interested in previously. (I tend to do the opposite: aesthetics first, function second.)
In the end, there was really only one good choice, and it happened to coordinate nicely with the pieces we already had. Of course it was out of stock, and the expected delivery time was five to eight weeks. But it turned out it took only three weeks before it was in stock, and it was delivered a week ago. Now, if I can just get the Mrs. to start putting her clothes into it...
15 November 2006
Get Comfortable
One of the great things about moving, from the perspective of someone who loves to shop (that would be me), is that you have a built-in excuse for buying new stuff. In our case that meant primarily items related to more effficient use of the storage space available to us. But eventually we arrived at the point where we had to consider some new furniture items.
Now, people who know me know that I frickin' LOVE furniture shopping. I'm not entirely sure why that is, but I definitely like being comfortable and being surrounded by nice things. I like going to the stores and seeing all the different styles available. I like sitting in sofas and chairs and imagining how things would look in my home. I like the idea that the pieces I choose are on display in my home, and that my choices communicate my style to my guests.
Beyond all the aesthetic reasons, furniture is so expensive relative to most things we buy that it triggers the need to feel like you're getting a good deal while still buying something of quality that is going to last and serve you well, which ties in very nicely with the bargain-hunting impulse that I've cultivated for more than two decades.
But you don't want to take that too far, or you can end up furnishing your entire home (if you happen to live in the northeastern part of the country) with cheap, scary stuff from the Christmas Tree Shops. Don't get me wrong, "The Tree" is useful for mundane household things (just ask my mother), but their furniture selection is limited and of questionable quality and taste. Besides, do you really want to have to assemble every single piece of furniture you own? I actually love putting stuff together, but It's nice to feel that you've reached a point in your life where you can buy something that's fully assembled, and will be delivered for you, instead of having to recruit (and bribe) your buddies to help you fetch it.
This is the frame of mind we were in when we set out in search of a new TV stand and coffee table. (The table got back-burnered in favor of a new and larger dresser for my wife, but we'll get back to it eventually.) The item I was looking to replace was a piece of wood-grained, particle-board crap that my roommate Sandra and I had bought for about $30 some time around '89 or '90 at the now-defunct discount store Bradlees. (What's really frightening is that, even though Bradlees went bankrupt and closed all its stores years ago, the company that made the TV stand still sells basically the exact same style of stand with a slightly different finish. Yikes.)
Why it was still holding up my television nearly two decades later is a question I can't give a satisfactory answer to, but I decided that after we had moved I was going to replace it. The Mrs. wanted to shop at Jordan's Furniture if possible, because they do a lot of great work in support of local adoption and foster-parent programs, so off we went to the insanely large indoor amusement park that is the newest Jordan's store, in Reading, MA, a few miles north of where we live. We had no trouble finding several styles we liked, but nothing really wowed either of us, so we agreed to keep looking.
Around the time we started shopping, we hit 20,000 points in our American Express rewards program, and I wanted to see if we could cash in those points toward the imminent purchase. I found we could indeed get a $100 AmEx gift card for the 20K points, but if we chose a gift card for a particular store, the same number of points would get us $200. Unfortunately AmEx offers only national retailers' gift cards, so we would have to look elsewhere. I happened across Crate & Barrel's Cadence plasma stand and was immediately attracted to its clean lines and warm finish. It was made in the US of real wood, was on sale, and we could get a $200 Crate & Barrel gift card from American Express to put toward the purchase. Beyond all that, I'm gearing up to get a new TV, and it's wide enough to hold up to a 50" plasma or projection set. Sold!
Now, people who know me know that I frickin' LOVE furniture shopping. I'm not entirely sure why that is, but I definitely like being comfortable and being surrounded by nice things. I like going to the stores and seeing all the different styles available. I like sitting in sofas and chairs and imagining how things would look in my home. I like the idea that the pieces I choose are on display in my home, and that my choices communicate my style to my guests.
Beyond all the aesthetic reasons, furniture is so expensive relative to most things we buy that it triggers the need to feel like you're getting a good deal while still buying something of quality that is going to last and serve you well, which ties in very nicely with the bargain-hunting impulse that I've cultivated for more than two decades.
But you don't want to take that too far, or you can end up furnishing your entire home (if you happen to live in the northeastern part of the country) with cheap, scary stuff from the Christmas Tree Shops. Don't get me wrong, "The Tree" is useful for mundane household things (just ask my mother), but their furniture selection is limited and of questionable quality and taste. Besides, do you really want to have to assemble every single piece of furniture you own? I actually love putting stuff together, but It's nice to feel that you've reached a point in your life where you can buy something that's fully assembled, and will be delivered for you, instead of having to recruit (and bribe) your buddies to help you fetch it.
This is the frame of mind we were in when we set out in search of a new TV stand and coffee table. (The table got back-burnered in favor of a new and larger dresser for my wife, but we'll get back to it eventually.) The item I was looking to replace was a piece of wood-grained, particle-board crap that my roommate Sandra and I had bought for about $30 some time around '89 or '90 at the now-defunct discount store Bradlees. (What's really frightening is that, even though Bradlees went bankrupt and closed all its stores years ago, the company that made the TV stand still sells basically the exact same style of stand with a slightly different finish. Yikes.)
Why it was still holding up my television nearly two decades later is a question I can't give a satisfactory answer to, but I decided that after we had moved I was going to replace it. The Mrs. wanted to shop at Jordan's Furniture if possible, because they do a lot of great work in support of local adoption and foster-parent programs, so off we went to the insanely large indoor amusement park that is the newest Jordan's store, in Reading, MA, a few miles north of where we live. We had no trouble finding several styles we liked, but nothing really wowed either of us, so we agreed to keep looking.
Around the time we started shopping, we hit 20,000 points in our American Express rewards program, and I wanted to see if we could cash in those points toward the imminent purchase. I found we could indeed get a $100 AmEx gift card for the 20K points, but if we chose a gift card for a particular store, the same number of points would get us $200. Unfortunately AmEx offers only national retailers' gift cards, so we would have to look elsewhere. I happened across Crate & Barrel's Cadence plasma stand and was immediately attracted to its clean lines and warm finish. It was made in the US of real wood, was on sale, and we could get a $200 Crate & Barrel gift card from American Express to put toward the purchase. Beyond all that, I'm gearing up to get a new TV, and it's wide enough to hold up to a 50" plasma or projection set. Sold!
14 November 2006
Movin' On Up, Part 2
Having committed to move, we knew the toughest task was going to be de-crapping our life of a great deal of excess stuff. Fortunately, we had over two months between lease-signing and moving day to get it done. Eleven years is a long time to live in one place, and we had a lot of stuff we had accumulated during that time that fell into the category of "excess."
A quick trip down to the basement served as a rude reminder that when we'd moved into the house in 1995 there was a lot of stuff that had been indiscriminately dumped down there and had never been seen or heard from again, so in 2006 it probably wasn't very important to us. The new apartment had ample basement storage, but it would be stupid to move a bunch of stuff we didn't care about just to stash it in another basement. Some people are very good at weeding unnecessary stuff out of their lives on a regular basis, but sadly my wife and I are not among those people. So it was very emotionally healthy for us to have to assess and cull our belongings in preparation for the move.
Of course when moving day was a few days away, we still weren't where we needed to be, but is anyone ever totally ready to move? (Probably those same people who weed out their unnecessary stuff on a regular basis.) The movers were due at 7:30 AM, so there we were at 6 AM on moving day, making a massive trash pile out of stuff we no longer wanted or needed, couldn't manage to give away, or that was just in such poor shape it was destined for the trash anyway. To be sure, I would have preferred not to throw away so much, but sometimes it's inevitable.
We hired Father & Son Moving, based on their estimate and the fact that the Mrs. had used them for a work-related move. When they arrived (on time) they couldn't get the truck into our dead-end street because of a car parked on the corner. One of the movers went to the nearest house; the owner was home, but the car had no gas. She was willing to go and get some, but for whatever reason, she couldn't do it until later in the day. The movers decided the best course of action was for them to do their other scheduled job for that day first, then come back to us. That was actually a good thing for us, because it gave us several more hours to finish packing (like I said, we just aren't those people...). The car was moved, the movers got the truck into the street and did a terrific job, and eventually (before dark) we were in our new home.
A quick trip down to the basement served as a rude reminder that when we'd moved into the house in 1995 there was a lot of stuff that had been indiscriminately dumped down there and had never been seen or heard from again, so in 2006 it probably wasn't very important to us. The new apartment had ample basement storage, but it would be stupid to move a bunch of stuff we didn't care about just to stash it in another basement. Some people are very good at weeding unnecessary stuff out of their lives on a regular basis, but sadly my wife and I are not among those people. So it was very emotionally healthy for us to have to assess and cull our belongings in preparation for the move.
Of course when moving day was a few days away, we still weren't where we needed to be, but is anyone ever totally ready to move? (Probably those same people who weed out their unnecessary stuff on a regular basis.) The movers were due at 7:30 AM, so there we were at 6 AM on moving day, making a massive trash pile out of stuff we no longer wanted or needed, couldn't manage to give away, or that was just in such poor shape it was destined for the trash anyway. To be sure, I would have preferred not to throw away so much, but sometimes it's inevitable.
We hired Father & Son Moving, based on their estimate and the fact that the Mrs. had used them for a work-related move. When they arrived (on time) they couldn't get the truck into our dead-end street because of a car parked on the corner. One of the movers went to the nearest house; the owner was home, but the car had no gas. She was willing to go and get some, but for whatever reason, she couldn't do it until later in the day. The movers decided the best course of action was for them to do their other scheduled job for that day first, then come back to us. That was actually a good thing for us, because it gave us several more hours to finish packing (like I said, we just aren't those people...). The car was moved, the movers got the truck into the street and did a terrific job, and eventually (before dark) we were in our new home.
13 November 2006
Enjoy Dessert, Help Others
It's time for a holiday-related public-service announcement. During the Thanksgiving season I like to support the organization Community Servings. From their web site: "Community Servings is Greater Boston’s free, home-delivered meals program for individuals and families ill with HIV/AIDS or other acute life-threatening illnesses."
Each year at this time, Community Servings sponsors a fundraising event called Pie in the Sky. Pies are baked by local chefs and sold at various locations around the city. The $25 contribution provides a week's worth of meals to one client. In case you need any further persuading, the pies are delicious.
You can order a pie online until November 16th, and select the location where you want to pick it up. I just ordered mine. I encourage everyone to support this very worthy cause, and get your Thanksgiving dessert at the same time.
Each year at this time, Community Servings sponsors a fundraising event called Pie in the Sky. Pies are baked by local chefs and sold at various locations around the city. The $25 contribution provides a week's worth of meals to one client. In case you need any further persuading, the pies are delicious.
You can order a pie online until November 16th, and select the location where you want to pick it up. I just ordered mine. I encourage everyone to support this very worthy cause, and get your Thanksgiving dessert at the same time.
06 November 2006
Not Fare
The public transit system here in the Boston area is operated by the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority, or MBTA, but most people refer to it as the "T". This year the system is undergoing one of the most significant changes in its history, an updated fare collection system. Gone are the old-fashioned turnstiles into which riders would drop tokens (there was also a slot on top to read the magnetic strip on monthly passes). Riders no longer have to line up purchase tokens at a single fare booth in each station; multiple machines are being installed which sell fare cards that can be "refilled" with additional funds, and sturdier plastic passcards are scheduled to appear this month. (I'm still a little unclear on why they felt they needed two pass formats that do the same thing, and the explanation on the T's web site doesn't do much to clarify things.)
The transition is not yet complete, but about two-thirds of the stations have the new gates, and a similar system is being added to the T's buses. None of this matters to me, however, because I don't pay to ride the T. That's because, as I mentioned previously, I am legally blind, which entitles me to a special pass issued by the state's Commission for the Blind. I've had one of these passes for almost 20 years, and it's certainly been very useful, especially when I had a job about 25 miles from my home and I had to ride the commuter trains.
In the past I had to go to the token booth and show my pass, which has my picture on it, to the person inside, who would unlock the turnstile next to the booth to allow me to pass into the system. The new system is essentially replacing the token sellers inside the booths, so clearly I was going to need a new pass. Last winter I received a letter explaining that I would be getting a new pass with an embedded chip that would allow me to use the new system. I'd like to give credit to the T for handling this transition very well: I did not have to do anything. The pass was mailed to me well in advance of the new fare system's implementation.
After being shown how the pass worked (a panel on the turnstile "reads" the chip inside the ID card), I started carrying the pass and using it daily. One morning the turnstile area was more crowded than usual, and a mother with a couple of small kids and a stroller was attempting to go through the gate designated for wheelchairs (and the folks like me with special passes), because the wider gate made it easier for her to maneuver. Being a fast mover in general, and not wanting to miss the next train, I stepped to the side and pressed my pass against another turnstile. Nothing happened. I kind of guessed what was going on, and one of the T's "ambassadors" standing nearby confirmed it (none too politely, I might add): "You have to use the handicapped turnstile!"
Now, I want to be clear: I don't have an issue with being singled out as handicapped (though I can appreciate that there are those who might). I've lived with my disability my whole life, I'm fortunate in that it's not outwardly obvious and doesn't prevent me from leading a more or less normal life, and I do not have any special equipment such as a wheelchair that would require me to pass through the wider turnstile. But I feel there's a disparity in the system because, while my pass (and presumably those of the other riders who have them) can be used only at that one special turnstile in each station for handicapped riders, any T rider can use the "special" gate.
I'm sure the percentage of riders with special passes must be very small relative to the total number of riders, but since my pass is permanent and does not have a stored value that needs to be refilled, what difference does it make which turnstile I use? In the interest of keeping things moving (and of fairness), it would be much more efficient and convenient to be able to pass through any turnstile. I could probably make the argument that it's discriminatory, because I honestly believe it is. I sent an email to the T's general manager and the manager of disability services asking about it, but I never received a response from either one.
The transition is not yet complete, but about two-thirds of the stations have the new gates, and a similar system is being added to the T's buses. None of this matters to me, however, because I don't pay to ride the T. That's because, as I mentioned previously, I am legally blind, which entitles me to a special pass issued by the state's Commission for the Blind. I've had one of these passes for almost 20 years, and it's certainly been very useful, especially when I had a job about 25 miles from my home and I had to ride the commuter trains.
In the past I had to go to the token booth and show my pass, which has my picture on it, to the person inside, who would unlock the turnstile next to the booth to allow me to pass into the system. The new system is essentially replacing the token sellers inside the booths, so clearly I was going to need a new pass. Last winter I received a letter explaining that I would be getting a new pass with an embedded chip that would allow me to use the new system. I'd like to give credit to the T for handling this transition very well: I did not have to do anything. The pass was mailed to me well in advance of the new fare system's implementation.
After being shown how the pass worked (a panel on the turnstile "reads" the chip inside the ID card), I started carrying the pass and using it daily. One morning the turnstile area was more crowded than usual, and a mother with a couple of small kids and a stroller was attempting to go through the gate designated for wheelchairs (and the folks like me with special passes), because the wider gate made it easier for her to maneuver. Being a fast mover in general, and not wanting to miss the next train, I stepped to the side and pressed my pass against another turnstile. Nothing happened. I kind of guessed what was going on, and one of the T's "ambassadors" standing nearby confirmed it (none too politely, I might add): "You have to use the handicapped turnstile!"
Now, I want to be clear: I don't have an issue with being singled out as handicapped (though I can appreciate that there are those who might). I've lived with my disability my whole life, I'm fortunate in that it's not outwardly obvious and doesn't prevent me from leading a more or less normal life, and I do not have any special equipment such as a wheelchair that would require me to pass through the wider turnstile. But I feel there's a disparity in the system because, while my pass (and presumably those of the other riders who have them) can be used only at that one special turnstile in each station for handicapped riders, any T rider can use the "special" gate.
I'm sure the percentage of riders with special passes must be very small relative to the total number of riders, but since my pass is permanent and does not have a stored value that needs to be refilled, what difference does it make which turnstile I use? In the interest of keeping things moving (and of fairness), it would be much more efficient and convenient to be able to pass through any turnstile. I could probably make the argument that it's discriminatory, because I honestly believe it is. I sent an email to the T's general manager and the manager of disability services asking about it, but I never received a response from either one.
01 November 2006
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Public transit, for all its flaws, makes it possible for me to live pretty independently, which is one of the main reasons I choose to live in a large metropolitan area. How does that converge with my shopping desires? Generally, pretty well. There are several decent malls and shopping areas within the city, and several more within the reach of the transit system. But those tend to be fairly well out in the suburbs, and getting there isn't always easy; often the trip involves multiple legs of travel on subway and bus. Frequently the final leg of the trip is a bus that runs only once an hour, so trips have to be timed carefully and can end up taking the better part of a day round-trip, even with good connections. So I tend to plan ahead, and usually have a specific reason for making the trip.
Of course, the internet gave us a new and convenient way to shop, one I love and take advantage of frequently. But I've found that often, the reason I'm making the trek to a mall is to see something in person that I've found online, but don't feel comfortable buying without examining in person. This is kind of silly if you stop to think about it, because it negates the supposed benefit of online shopping. But sometimes it's an item that needs to be touched (clothing), sometimes it's something that needs to be tried on (see my previous entry about shoes).
Some products just shouldn't be bought without a visual assessment (TVs, diamond rings). But the most typical reason I feel I need to go inspect something in person that I've seen online and am considering buying is...because the web site's pictures of it are so lousy, I can't make an informed decision. I spent some time working in e-commerce, so I know what I'm talking about: you can't skimp on the product presentation, verbal or visual.
Sadly, I have on occasion felt the need to send an email to an online retailer asking if there were any additional or better images of a specific product. The answer is inevitably the same: sorry, no. The most recent instance was when I was looking for a new messenger-style bag a couple of months ago. I found a leather one at Fossil that looked nice, but there was only one picture. I could click on it for a slightly enlarged version, but there was no picture of the back, and worse, no picture of the inside. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. I'm not going to pay nearly $150 for something if I can't assess whether or not I think it's going to meet my needs. If I can't get a good enough look at it, and I can't see it in person anywhere, there's no way I'm going to buy it, no matter how interested I might be.
Of course, the internet gave us a new and convenient way to shop, one I love and take advantage of frequently. But I've found that often, the reason I'm making the trek to a mall is to see something in person that I've found online, but don't feel comfortable buying without examining in person. This is kind of silly if you stop to think about it, because it negates the supposed benefit of online shopping. But sometimes it's an item that needs to be touched (clothing), sometimes it's something that needs to be tried on (see my previous entry about shoes).
Some products just shouldn't be bought without a visual assessment (TVs, diamond rings). But the most typical reason I feel I need to go inspect something in person that I've seen online and am considering buying is...because the web site's pictures of it are so lousy, I can't make an informed decision. I spent some time working in e-commerce, so I know what I'm talking about: you can't skimp on the product presentation, verbal or visual.
Sadly, I have on occasion felt the need to send an email to an online retailer asking if there were any additional or better images of a specific product. The answer is inevitably the same: sorry, no. The most recent instance was when I was looking for a new messenger-style bag a couple of months ago. I found a leather one at Fossil that looked nice, but there was only one picture. I could click on it for a slightly enlarged version, but there was no picture of the back, and worse, no picture of the inside. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. I'm not going to pay nearly $150 for something if I can't assess whether or not I think it's going to meet my needs. If I can't get a good enough look at it, and I can't see it in person anywhere, there's no way I'm going to buy it, no matter how interested I might be.
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