Valentine's and School Plays

Just a little update since I haven't posted anything of substance in a while (nothing new there).  Ariel arrived home from a trip just before Valentine's Day, having missed his birthday, so I made him a celebratory turtle cheesecake.  It was so delicious and rich, we had to share it with friends to get rid of it (good friends make sacrifices like that).  I will post the recipe over at Eaten by Snarks eventually.

Lena had her 4th grade play.  On one hand, I was unimpressed (we had phenomenal plays at Beachborough in the UK), but on the other hand it lasted all of 20 minutes.  Not too bad.  Lena played the maracas and played the role of an African drought (as indicated by the brown clothes and raffia on her wrists -- obviously -- how else would an anthropomorphised natural phenomenon dress?).

The school play gave Ariel and the girls a good excuse to be absent from the house while I hosted a cooking club and made Pappa al Pomodoro (that is posted over at the recipe blog).

We had a happy and delicious week.

Perceived Value

The concept of "perceived value" has really been on my mind of late.  A few months ago, my photographer friend Amy lent me a few of her Professional Photographer magazines to browse, and I read an article which really got me thinking.  The featured photog talked about how he started with a reasonable sitting fee of $500 (which I think is high) and was advised to raise the fee to 4 digits.  At first thought, this seemed ludicrous -- no one would hire him -- but he found that by charging $1500 (oh my goodness, I'm in the wrong business), his perceived value was raised.  Clients went into the shoot assuming he was a superstar and treated him with a greater respect than he might get for only $500.  It all struck me as a bit shifty, but then in America, we thrive on a sort of conspicuous consumption -- not just keeping up with the Joneses but bragging about how much we're spending to do so.  Expensive means good.

Ariel and I had experienced something similar about 4 years ago when we went to put our house on the rental market.  Our realtor and our listing agent came to the house and gave it a good look over (which admittedly made me a bit self-conscious since our realtor moves million dollar homes on a weekly basis (or did before the market crashed)) and when we discussed how much rent to charge, Ariel and I offered an amount on the low end of the rent spectrum, thinking that a low amount that still far exceeded our mortgage amount would guarantee renters and no months of an empty house.  The realtor suggested that instead we charge the largest amount that the housing market could handle.  And her reasoning came back to perceived value.  She said that she had found that if you charge a humble amount of rent, the home is less dear to the renters, but that by charging a high but fair amount, the renters actually take better care of the house.  They perceive that you're charging so much because your house is a treasure.  

Recently, the paradox of perceived value has now worked its way into our daily lives.  In our town, we have a little bargain grocery store called Shoppers.  On the edge of the town we have Wegmans.  Shoppers is just a basic grocery store that sometimes runs triple coupons, tends to have the cheapest groceries short of Costco, and has a huge selection of Hispanic food due to its huge immigrant customer base.  Wegmans is the most gloriously wonderful grocery store I've ever encountered with its patisserie, bakery, fish monger, butcher, cheese shop, tea aisle (yes, aisle -- not just a section on the coffee aisle), etc.  But it's high.  It's the place you go for the specialty item on your list, but not for the whole list.  Or so I thought.  Since we've returned to the States, we've dutifully gone to Shoppers for most of our grocery needs.  And every week we've whined about how we can't get out of the store for less than $150.  The meat is processed elsewhere and shipped in, the selection is limited, the produce is sometimes questionable.  But still, even when we're actively limiting our impulse buys and luxury items, we still come away spending too much money.

Last month, Shoppers announced that they were closing the store here in our area.  We fretted and fussed, "What will we do?  Where will we shop?"  Though we have a grocery store on every corner, they are all expensive.  Amy (ah, how things come full circle) said, "Actually, Wegman's has the cheapest milk in the area.  And their regular groceries are not really any more expensive."  And so we gave Wegman's a try for our weekly groceries.  Monday, I went to do my shopping, armed with not just a list, but a massive list of lots of specialty items.  I bought Polish sausage from the butcher, pancetta from the deli, ciabatta from the bakery, 21 types of fresh produce, and all of my normal needs.  When I went to check out, I quaked in fear.  And my tally came in at -- $130.  

How can Wegmans -- posh, amazing, scary-elegant Wegmans -- come in cheaper than cheap old Shoppers?  But it's back to perceived value.  I go into Shoppers thinking I can afford anything in the store, and it's all a good price (because it's Shoppers), so I pop into my cart anything I want.  I nickle-and-dime myself to death.  But then I go to Wegmans, and I'm scared to death of buying a $60 kosher sausage (a tale for another day) or worse, buying a pound of black truffles.  So I put into my cart only want I need, even if what I need is expensive.  I assume when I look at the price of things on the shelf that they are priced for someone in a higher tax-bracket, so I don't buy 7 of them -- even when it's the same price I'd pay at Shoppers -- where I would have bought 7 -- just in case there's a shortage on salad dressing, you know.

Now that I've possibly identified the illusion of Wegmans, can I keep shopping there?  Next week, I'll be going back to Wegmans, this time with just my standard list of standard groceries (no experimental menu next week).  Can I come in under $100?  To maintain my perception of Wegman's value, I'll just keep chanting, "$800 per pound.  $800 per pound."

Chilly Dog in His Element

I have never seen this dog so full of energy and happiness.  And he's typically a very happy and energetic dog anyway.

The kids had fun too.

Weekend of Double Happiness

This weekend, our second daughter, the final child, the baby was baptised.  Livia was all over herself with excitement, especially since this was her do-over.  She had been scheduled to take the plunge (literally) back in November along with her pal Timmy, but the broken arm set everything back by a few months.

Livia and Blitz and their coordinating outfits.

Lena, the big sister, gave a very lovely talk on baptism.  

Yes, when Ariel is on stocking feet and I'm wearing heels, I am 8 feet taller than my husband. It can't be helped.
Ariel's mom Tracey flew out for the weekend to share in the festivities and was a godsend when it came to making all of the food.  I went a little nuts with the food.

Livia and Timmy and the spread.

The next day, Chinese New Year's Eve, we made dumplings from scratch.  Ariel and I made the jiaozhi wrappers while we cooked the pork filling.  Then it was filling time!  We had checked out a website for recipes and it gave pictorial instructions for crimping the dumplings.  Ariel was so good at making the lovely little purses, we named him The Dumpling King.  Many hands make swift work, which was good because we made loads of these things.  Keeping with the tradition, we did not count them as we went along, but we did fill two large plates, so we hope that this means much wealth is in our future.  Our coffers are already abundantly full of joy and blessings.

You Complete Me

Back in August, we painted our kitchen, but we could never quite finish it.  The new fridge was much wider than the old, so I had to remove cabinets to put it into place.  But actually, this kitchen has been unfinished since 2000, when we first moved in.

Hearken back to March of 2000.  I was pregnant and barfy, and we had just sunk all of our money into a little house with pink carpet, pink and white linoleum, and orange oak cabinets.  To the left of the little white fridge was a half-wall and a built-in desk.  We referred to this desk as the "pit of despair" because, as Ariel and I are both clutter-bugs, this place collected anything that happened to be set down.  About a year after our initial move, and I was the stay-at-home mother of two very little girls, we still had no money, and we only had one car which my dear husband took to work with him.  Trapped in the ugly house, in a moment of had-enough, I ripped out the built-in desk and the half-wall.  We eventually put in hardwood floors, then tile in the kitchen, and I built a free-standing bookcase to go in the place left by the desk.  It was a stop-gap.

So, back to 2008.  The old bookcase no longer fit there, but I didn't want to just throw something together (plus, I had no tools since all of our belongings were still en route).  I made plans to build a bespoke bookcase to tie in with the over-the-fridge cabinet with adjustable shelves.  But even when our belongings (read:tools) did come, our basement was being finished, so the garage/workshop was a massive storage area.  Finally the basement was finished, but I really wanted to do this correctly, so I needed a new router.  My old one had died an honorable death after making lots of complicated joints for a nail-less table I made for my mother right before we left for England.  And just as I didn't want to throw something together to fill the space, I didn't want to buy the cheapest old router.  I researched and researched and realized that I couldn't justify the new router I wanted.  So I had to wait for Christmas to use my Christmas money to buy a beautiful dual-base Hitachi.  (Ooh, that thing is dreamy!).  Of course, I also had to heat the garage so that the oil paint would set up (and so my fingers wouldn't freeze), but finally, Ariel and I installed the last of the kitchen this weekend.

I'm giddy as like with new love or a first crush.  The kitchen is finally -- 9 years later -- finished.  Of course, when we get back from overseas, we're ripping the whole thing out.  Nobody marries their first love. ;)

Twilight's Last Gleaming

"Twilight's Last Gleaming" by Deb Walker
How fitting that I quote the "Star-Spangled Banner" on this, President Obama's Inauguration Day.

However, today, I am writing about more pressing matters. Today, I wish to speak about Twilight by Stephenie Meyer.  I've talked to young women who giggle and squeal at the very thought of this book, heard of grown women who swoon over each page, and read countless blogs by crazies who haven't even read it though still rant how it is akin to porn for women.  To all of these people, I say, "Are we talking about the same book?!"

First of all, I read the book so I get to criticize it.  If you haven't read it, then you aren't allowed to talk about it.  When Harry Potter began to get all of the crazy buzz it did, countless family groups got all up in arms about the book having never read it.  Parents bashed it, and only when they read it did they suddenly become great fans who also shared it with their kids.  On the other hand, this book sucked.  The writing was atrocious and tedious.  The plot was, um, absent.  The characters were characterless.  The sex was, wait, there was no sex.  Porn for women?  Please.  Let us not diminish the word "porn" until it means nothing.  I have read some smut in my day.  Even vampire smut.  This was not even close to anything related to smut.  The dirtiest part of this book is that we're told every time the Main Character has to go to the bathroom.  Once again, see note about the bad writing.  It's not even a love story.  There is no intimacy, no real opportunity to prove their love for one another, no challenge, no chase.  We're never shown anything, only told in the simplest terms available: he did this, she felt that, they said this.

And I felt self-conscious for the mortal main character.  Summing up story in a few sentences: 17-year-old, klutzy Bella moves to gloomy Washington State small town where she meets beautiful boy Edward who turns out to be pushing 100-year-old vampire who is gorgeous, brilliant, talented, and, oh by the way, can read minds except for hers which makes her extremely attractive to him in a hard-to-get and delicious way.  Yeah, he thinks she's the most delicious thing he's smelled in decades and his biggest worry is first and foremost that he might eat her.  Sex is out of the question because A) they have all the raging lust of a herd of slugs, and B) he's afraid that he would break her with his super-vampire strength.  Okay, "Whoa, baby, I'm afraid that I'd killed you if we did it," has got to be the absolute worst anti-pickup line I've ever heard.  So this sigh-inducing tale about "unfulfilled love" is really no different than a story of two kids who can't get it on because the guy has an STD (a really, really deadly one).  And the guy is 80 years her senior.  Of course, that shouldn't be a problem, because Edward, as part of his vampire powers also has super-angst.  

So, if you want a story that goes, 

"Ooh, I love you!"  "And I love you"  Then she sleeps, and he watches her sleep, then she wakes up and they talk about how they love each other some more, and isn't it hard to be 17 or 97 and be in love, and maybe he should walk out of the room and create some conflict, so they each worry if the other still loves him/her, but he comes back in the room and tells her that, yes, he still loves her, despite the fact that she's middlingly pretty and so freakishly klutzy she's a hazard to those around her, and he's a Greek god.  Oh, yeah, he's like an Adonis.  Did we mention that he's swoon-worthy hot?  Yeah, totally.  

Then this is the story for you.

Poor Puppy

Monday marked Blitz's 6-month birthday, and to celebrate, we sent him to the vet to have his nails trimmed -- while he was being castrated.  He came through his surgery with flying colours, but to keep his recovery at optimum levels, the vet sent Blitz home wearing an Elizabethan collar.  I couldn't get the dog to walk across the parking lot as he was too busy trying to bite that horrible contraption off.  At home, he would just sit forlornly, hunched over and sad.  He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't drink, he wouldn't even go to the bathroom (after bashing into the doorframe just trying to get out).  So we gave in to his patheticness and took the blasted e-collar off, loving him and watching for the dreaded sack licking.  He was a good dog, and learned quickly to stay away or risk imprisonment.  Next our difficult task was to follow doctor's orders and keep him from being too active -- no running, no jumping.  This was harder to do, and finally we just gave up when Ariel came home from work and the dog leapt over the couch to get to him (Blitz loves Ariel obsessively).  So far, he's healing well regardless.

The lead-up to this momentous day inspired much conversation in our house.  The girls are at that age where we're starting to have "the talk."  Lena has had the full-disclosure talk in preparation for school while Livia has had the truncated Animal Planet version.  So L&L knew what testicles were and knew that this surgery would eliminate any chance of Blitz being a Papa Dog, but they were perplexed.  Lena asked, "But Daddy isn't going to have any more children.  Will he have his testicles removed?"  I had to explain (through fits of giggles) about hormones and how mostly, we just don't want Blitz to have a lot of bad boy-dog behaviours, like wanting to be the alpha-dog, humping, and being interested in the ladies -- many of the same behaviours that I would like their Daddy to keep.