Supermarket Grievance

So there I was last Friday, rushing to the supermarket with a long list of grocery items but only limited time to shop. Twenty minutes was all the time I had to load up my basket with everything from saffron to sardines to sugar, check out, and pick up Tiggy from preschool. I stopped in front of the bakery area to read through my grocery list and plan my trip down the aisles.

As I made my way through the bakery towards cheese and dairy, I noticed the clever attempts made to entice shoppers with junk food. And it wasn’t just bad food masquerading as health food; a lot of the items on promotion were just plain awful, filled with all the ingredients we have been repeatedly told to avoid. Creativity thrived on shoppers’ weaknesses for bread and sweets. A table of cheap, assorted cookies had been strategically placed next the frozen fish and seafood, which was close to the red meatbut far from the cookie aisle, where they should have been.

A rack of half-priced cakes and pastries stood in front of the poultry/ready-to-serve dinner section; another rack of bread and rolls abutted the pain killers and personal health products; and some of the gigantic birthday and holiday cakes with frosting and sprinkles had been chopped up into slices and repackaged in single-serve containers. These were strategically placed on and overflowing from a table in front of the milk and yogurt, instead of in the bakery, with all the other cakes and desserts. I can see the connection between the chocolate cake and milk, or custard or whipped cream, all of which were stacked in the fridge behind the cake table. But what were the half-priced Danishes and baked goods doing next to raw chicken? I suppose I should convince myself this is for my convenience, in case I forgot to grab a box of donuts when I left the bakery.

The produce aisle was just as bad. No fruit or vegetable stand was without some snack or cake item lurking nearby: ready-made pastry shells for fruit fillings, sweet treats to top fruits, bread, chocolate chip cookies and gummy bears. Some displays creatively paired up Bundt cakes and berries

What better way to kill the sensation of nutritious eating than falling for a gigantic slice of chocolate cake you can wash down with your organic milk? And even if you aren’t tempted by cake, you’ll still be distracted by the displays because they’re so out of place and block the aisles. If you have resolved to eat more healthfully this summer, the supermarket produce may just derail those plans.

Hola, Barcelona ?

This year’s Tech-Ed EMEA technical education conference will be held in Barcelona, Spain in November. David attended the US conference in Orlando, Fla., earlier this month, and I’m hoping he’ll be invited to attend the Barcelona conference.

Either way, I have already decided to brush up on my high school Spanish and am putting together an exciting itinerary, which includes a side trip to Beziers, France.

Perhaps I’m getting carried away but I’m also hoping I’ll be asked to lead a breakout session on food and side trips.

Dans Ma Peau

In My Skin (Dans ma peau) is disturbing and at times hard to watch. It’s about a woman who discovers that she likes cutting and mutilating herself when she accidentally trips and her leg at party and spends the entire evening without realizing the extent of her injuries.

Later, she starts picking at the wound, peeling off scabs and running off to cellars with a carving knife. By the end of the film, she’s bringing in gauged-out skin samples for tanning and preservation. She tries to cover up her fetish in the way a drug addict might try to hide his habit. Just thinking about her pastime makes my skin crawl.

It’s probably a good film but I spent too much time averting my eyes to appreciate it. I rented it because of Laurent Lucas, but thought his acting – he has only a few scenes – was dull.

Dealing with Houseguests

While hosting guests in your home can be as stressful an experience as being someone’s guest, I hear lots more stories about dreadful overnight guests than I do about horrible hosts. Who hasn’t heard a horror story about somebody’s high-maintenance, inconsiderate, overly-critical houseguest who snores too loudly? And who doesn’t have a list of commandments for future houseguests: clean up after yourself; don’t overstay your welcome; don’t snore too loudly. But how often do hosts admit to things they could have done to make things better? This drove me to come up with my own lists of dos and don’ts for the host:

No closed-door meetings. At some point during an extended visit, I find myself pulling David away from our guests, to some secret meeting in our room, so I can complain about something. I think I’m being clever by inventing some stupid pretext to tear David away, like my needing to moving furniture or retrieve some lost item.

It doesn’t occur to me that my guests might pick up snippets of the conversation during my heated ran and conclude that it has something to do with their visit. If I were a guest, the possibility would definitely cross my mind. And I’d be uncomfortable. 

Keep things simple and manageable: prepare straightforward meals; plan simple travel itineraries that won’t have you traveling hundreds of miles to see some hokey tourist attraction; don’t leave clutter lying around. Don’t put a million food choices on the breakfast table.

Don’t say things you don’t mean, just to be polite. If it’s not convenient for guests to extend their visit, it’s not a good idea to lie and persuade them to stay longer. The next time, they may take you up on your offer.

In the same vein, be upfront about what’s acceptable and what’s not. If an extended stay is not an option, remind your guests ahead of time how are glad you are that they are visiting on the agreed-upon dates. Any later, and the timing wouldn’t have been right. You might want to research convenient hotels for the dates after the agreed-on dates.

If you don’t want pets in your home, better say so upfront rather than resent the guest for showing up with a furry animal. Suggest boarding alternatives for pets, like the name and rates for the pet hotel/kennel/vet where your dog stays when you travel, or where other friends have left their pets when they visited. Share the business card of someone in the neighborhood who offers pet-sitting services. Offer to research a good boarding facility in the person’s home town.

Accept help if your guest really wants to do something. It might take you a week to find the vegetable peeler after he empties the dishwasher and he’ll probably put dishes in the wrong cupboards and stack your wineglasses right-side-up, instead of face down, the way you are accustomed to putting them away. But is this really worth stressing about? The guest is probably just trying to be helpful or earn his keep. You’ll have plenty of time to put things back in their rightful place when he leaves.

No foreign-language griping. Speaking a language that your guest doesn’t understand, doesn’t make it okay to openly complain about her in that language. It’s insulting, and people can pick up on body language and tones and will probably suspect when they are being talked about. Be respectful and hold off on griping until your guests are not within earshot.

Don’t sweat the small stuff. Don’t spend all day fuming because your guest put the heat up too high or chews gum too loudly. Chances are, if someone is staying in your home, he is probably important to you on some level. You probably want to spend time with them catching up or making plans. Try asking her politely and sincerely to stop doing something or suggest an alternative. That will often fix the problem. Most people don’t mean to be annoying and are eager to accommodate.

While houseguest visits seem to last forever when your personal space is being invaded, it will be over before you know it. Why waste time resenting someone for something that’s relatively insignificant? Be open-minded and flexible and don’t forget spend quality time with your guests. You’ll have more fun if you do.

Unexpected Houseguest

When David called from the airport Friday evening to warn me that we’d be having an overnight guest, I reassured him that I had everything under control and that he should consider it a done deal. Then I hung up the phone and surveyed the damage. The floor in Tiggy’s room looked like the Serengeti, with all the plush toys splayed out, and a pair of bedroom slippers perched haphazardly on the window sill. Granted, things could have been a lot worse: the kitchen was free of clutter and no pizza slices clung to the ceiling fan. But it wasn’t the impression I wanted to give guests.

Since I had only two hours to clean, shop for groceries, and get Tiggy ready for bed, I decided to focus on any disorder that I would find offputing if I were the guest, like stray pizza slices, a sink full of dirty dishes or laundry draped over furniture. I scanned our apartment, trying to spot any clutter that a guest might hone in on. I was unpleasantly aware that our home was far from what I want it to look like. Papers needed to be filed; toys had to be put away; laundry had to be ironed and the decor could be upgraded. I also noticed all the home repair projects that I have been putting off, and which our guest might see as quick fixes and think we were lazy for putting off. Everything was a work in progress: Rocks I brought back from Arizona have been sitting in a makeshift display dish for two months already and I still needed to hang the wall tapestry my friend Antim gave me, but for which I still hadn’t decided on the right spot.

Since I had no time to sort through receipt, or run out and buy a new couch, I vacuumed, straightened up and called it a night. Then I scanned the apartment one last time and was pleased with my efforts. The housework was still a work in progress but the shelves were clutter free and the guest bathroom was clean. That’s what really mattered.

Chelsea’s Graduation

The Eastlake high school commencement ceremony was held in Qwest Field last Thursday. Much to our relief, the evening was cool and sunny. It rained just about every day for the past two weeks, so we packed for precipitation in the stands. I even brought along a parka, just in case, but I didn’t need it.

Traffic into Seattle from Redmond was horrible. It took us over an hour to drive to Qwest Field and about another half hour to park ($10 for a narrow stall) and take our seats. As a result, we missed the academic procession into the stadium.   

The ceremony was steeped in traditions you can’t imagine a graduation ceremony without. The messages were universal – work hard, seek excellence and don’t lose hope – but told with experiences that were relevant to this graduating class. At one point, they all got up and did their school "rumble" shimmy in their caps and gowns. Some got into it more than others.

Also familiar was the audience reception to the platitudes and literary references sprinkled in the commencement speeches: Nobody seemed to be paying much attention. Puns and jokes that should have evoked at least a courtesy laugh fell on deaf ears, as attendees all around climbed over seats and moved about the stadium. Luckily the speakers were foremost addressing the graduating students and not their parents in the stands. And the students even gave one of their teachers a standing ovation. The parents in the stands seemed oblivious to what was going on on the field, but they all seemed to be having such a good time.

 

Tiresia

Tiresia is the first film with Laurent Lucas that I have seen and didn’t really like. It’s about a transsexual "working" in the Bois de Boulogne (just outside Paris), and who gets kidnapped by a creepy client (Laurent Lucas) who is infatuated with her beauty. Deprived of her hormones, Tiresia starts sprouting facial hair and becomes more masculine, which prompts her captive to let her go. In the second half of the film, Tiresia develops the powers of premonition, after a shocking incident.

The premise was interesting enough for me to watch it to until the end, but it was hard to follow.

Tech-Ed 2008

David went to Orlando, Fla., last week to attend Microsoft’s annual software conference. Bill Gates kicked off the conference for the developers’ with a keynote that David thought was pretty good. This is it: Bill is stepping down. I can’t imagine the audience not being moved by his speech.

 

Hard to tell but that’s Bill addressing the developers.

 

 

Universal Studios, Orlando, Fla.,

 

 

No More Outlet Shopping

You’d think I would stop falling into the trap of outlet malls; you’d think I would have learned my lesson. Yet every season, I’m lured to outlet shopping by the prospects of finding racks of leftovers from past seasons, marked down at bargain prices. I convince myself I might find an old favorite in a color that didn’t sell, along with a bunch of other items I had originally passed on but would reconsider if the price was right. Surely, this is where all the clothes from the sale racks get sent when the stores needed to make room for newer seasonal merchandise.

But it always ends up the same. I scour the racks of my favorite stores and end up buying something that I don’t need but which is a decent price, so I won’t go home empty-handed. I’m seldom ever proud of my purchase, and almost always could have passed on it. Once back home, where I’m no longer scanning displays of forgettable merchandise, and can scan my shelves full of previous outlet mistakes, I admit that my good deal wasn’t so good after all. When I prune my closet at the end of the season, the first items to go are the flimsy accessories and articles of clothing that I picked up at an outlet. Plus if I timed it right, I could have gotten an even better deal on superior merchandise at a store closer to home.

There’s also the distance. The Premium Outlets in Marysville, Wash., is about 30 miles away; the outlet mall in North Bend is just as far. Two months ago, we drove some 60 miles roundtrip so that I could save 20% off a forgettable cotton sweater. There were just no deals to be had. I didn’t even get to experience the deception of finding the right item at the right price, only in the wrong size, or in an unworkable pattern. There was simply nothing worth a second look.

I had a wonderful shopping experience at a Gap Outlet in Astoria, Queens, where I did find incredible deals on worthwhile merchandise. But that was at least 15 years ago. The experience was so euphoric – as far as shopping experiences go – that I always dream of reliving it whenever I head to a premium outlet. Those days are long gone, and I think the thrill is finally starting to wear off.

The Bridesmaid

Claude Chabrol’s The Bridesmaid is one of the most exciting films I have seen in a long time. Philippe falls for one of the bridesmaids, Senta, at his sister’s wedding (she’s from the groom’s side of the family) and who everybody else thinks is a bit strange. Indeed, she does and says odd things, like following the bride’s brother home in the rain – no umbrella, of course – and telling him they were meant to be together.

Philippe is a bit peculiar too. He is infatuated with a garden statue – the bust of a woman – that he steals, hides in his closet and sleeps with at night. But he’s also sensitive and affectionate. At no point, for instance, did I think he might be the real degenerate who mistakes Senta for his garden statue and start chopping her up into pieces. Instead, I wanted to root for him and to reassure him that he’s better off with the statue than with his new girlfriend, who claims to be a well-traveled actress, yet spends all her time in her musty basement apartment talking about killing.

I wanted to give the guy a nudge: can’t you see she’s got issues? Don’t date her! Get away from her! But of course he dates her, and of course things degenerate.

Incidentally, Laura Smet, the actress who plays the bridesmaid, is the daughter of French actress Nathalie Baye and former 60s French rock icon, Johnny Hallyday. Just interesting trivia.