Red Thursday

With only eight (eke!) shopping days left until Christmas,  people may now be looking back on Black Friday and wondering why they didn’t shop earlier or maybe you are glad you got your shopping—or most of—finished.  How did we get here from there?

Travel back with me to the week of Thanksgiving (and the week before, I suppose). That’s when all the ads came out from stores about their Black Friday sales.

This year, the problem: stores were trying to outdo each other by starting Black Friday at midnight or even earlier, on Thanksgiving! So efforts for stores to get into the black on the day after Thanksgiving created what I called Red Thursday—double entendre intended.

First of all, if the day after is black Friday, then stores are still in the red on Thursday. So far in it that they need some extra help to get into the black by the end of business (midnight?) Friday. Then we have small business Saturday and cyber Monday. And now encroaching on people’s Thanksgiving had them seeing red with anger and hence Red Thursday.

So here’s how it went. There are some people (millions apparently) who just have to be the first one in the door for those sales. Maybe there is something that they really want or need and have been waiting for this sale and need to get it before the stores sell out. Maybe they just get caught up in bargain fever. So, these people are not happy that they are forced to leave their Thanksgiving celebration early or miss it altogether in order to sit in line outside some store (and baby, it’s cold outside).

Add to this their relatives—people who know that their family members behave this way. So the ripple effect is that it ruins everyone’s Thanksgiving celebration because some people leave early or don’t even show up. And of course, someone’s got to man the store so people who work these shifts or have to get the store ready miss out. And let’s not forget law enforcement or security guards—extra ones—to help prevent deaths, trampling, not to mention theft.

In a supposed backlash, people said they were going to boycott. I wonder what that meant exactly: not go to a store until after 6 AM Friday morning? Not shop at stores who were making their workers work through Thanksgiving? There are 24-hour businesses that have to deal with this every year from nurses and emergency workers to hotels and airports. Of course, there, you know people have to work holidays and things are scheduled and paid accordingly. I don’t know how much advanced notice people got for working these shifts at stores. And generally, they are offered to those with the most seniority first. So workers can choose to make some extra money (at holiday pay). It is their choice. I have no idea how many workers with the least seniority were forced into working (or lose their jobs) because no one else wanted to.

Whatever the case, reports after Black Friday were that it was the largest grossing Black Friday on record. Clearly people did not stay away from the stores. So they complained all week, but actions speak louder than words—or money talks (even the Supreme Court agrees –but I digress).

As for me personally, we actually ran into Black Friday traffic around 9 pm on Friday night on our way home from our Thanksgiving celebration. The freeway was jammed with people trying to get to the mall!

It’s been 29 days now since Black Friday. With all the hullabaloo about it forgotten, we move forward and onward and prepare to face the next best (worst) shopping day of the year: Boxing day.

I Yam What I Yam...

11/20/11

I Yam What I Yam…

…unless I’m a sweet potato

Seeing as Popeye ate spinach, I don’t think he cared much over the distinction but my curiosity was peaked and I am in quagmire.

Yesterday, I went shopping to get a turkey for our early Thanksgiving celebration on Tuesday (day after tomorrow). Good thing I didn’t wait until today because…oh wait, this rant is not about turkeys.

So I was at Sprouts and I figured I could pick up potatoes while I was there (we were out, but they did not have the 10 pounds bags like I get at Ralphs). However, they sell sweet potatoes for less. After failing with the potatoes, I went in search of sweet potatoes. A  few weeks back I happened to be there when the things were on sale for 69 cents per pound. I didn’t realize it was a special sales price and picked up a few. The next time I was in (I don’t go to Sprouts that often, generally—like maybe not even once a month) they were back to their usual 88 cents.

Well, this time, I searched in vain. Not a sweet potato in sight. However, all was not lost. I stumbled upon a giant container filled with something sweet potato-ish looking labeled red yams. Now, in the past, I have pondered the distinction between sweet potatoes and yams. One came from Africa, but I couldn’t remember. And if you put two side by side, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you which much less remember which I liked better for making my baked sweet potato chips (for lack of a better word). I leave the skin on, btw. Is the skin even edible?

At any rate, I had never heard of a red yam before. I decided to look it up. Of course, I forgot all about it until later that day, when I went to Ralphs. Yes, I know two markets in one day, but I will be going again before the week is out. In the first place, you have to be careful with Sprouts. Some stuff if cheaper, or they have certain products (like organic celery—one of those things everyone says should be organic), but other things are more expensive. So when I went there it was knowing I was going basically for their turkey.

So…I went to Ralphs. We needed potatoes (those regular old white ones—Russet variety usually) because I know someone would be wanting French Fries before my planned trip to the market Monday for fresh produce and whatever else I still need for the party. There, I found my ten-pound bag of potatoes—usually around $4.50, sometimes on sale for under $4. Well, there they were 10 pounds for $0.99. I read the sign three times. Really. A dollar. I’d have bought two bags (I mean I am making potato cheese soup for Tuesday), but what am I going to do with 20 pounds of potatoes? I mean, how long do they last? I guess it depends how many I use for the soup. Maybe I will buy more…

Getting back to the point, after seeing a display with a large sign, “red yams,” I looked around and noticed there were no sweet potatoes. This got me wondering. First of all, are these red yams really a kind of yam or a misnomer for a type of sweet potato? And second, where are all the sweet potatoes (the kinds usually around and the others labeled simply yams.)?

Today, I finally opened Google and started searching. You know ordinarily, when you search for things, not only do you (um, I—how did I get into 2^nd person) tend to find the same info over and over, but it generally is identical—as in one person simply pasted the info from one person’s site to their own—and never giving any credit either.

Not this time. I found a site that gave the nutritional value of a red yam without saying oh, but it’s a sweet potato.

I found several sites saying that in USA, the two are synonymous, sort of. As in, everything for sale in a regular market is a sweet potato. The first popular sweet potato (which is not a type of potato at all—I already knew that) is kind of light or orange in color with lighter, yellowish flesh inside. Then (1930s) along came a darker variety—reddish skin with orange flesh (high in beta carotene, like carrots). They acquired the name yam because first, the things were different from the other sweet potatoes, so they needed a distinct (um, how about red sweet potato?). And second, slaves from Africa already called the darker ones them yams to differentiate them because they were similar to or reminded them of a variety of yams back home.

In this day of international plane travel with produce flown round the world, are my red yams a type of sweet potato or a yam? One site said that because of the confusion, US markets are supposed to label anything that they call yam but is a sweet potato as a sweet potato as well. This would mean being in the market and seeing it say both. Red yam sweet potatoes. Well, as near as I can remember, the signs only said red yams.

I found a site that was informative about types of both. The writer went to an Asian market and purchased a variety of sweet potatoes and yams. Okay, so you can get yams in the US, but do you have to go to a special store? Even the person doing this article ended up with one “yam” that she wasn’t certain whether it was a yam or sp. She did show ube and at least now I know that ubes are a type of yam. They are purple and you can get ube ice cream at Filipino markets and restaurants. Goldilocks (a Filipino bakery and restaurant) also uses ube in a bread loaf with it swirled for a beautiful purple effect.

As near as I can tell, the “red yams” might actually be garnet sweet potatoes. So why not label them as such. I mean I’d never heard of a red yam before. And as for Thanksgiving, people always talk about sweet potatoes (as in mashed and covered in marshmallows) or sweet potato pie. At Sprouts, I didn’t buy very many (considering the great price) just in case no one liked them.

I finally decided to search for a sweet potato association and found a council (sweetpotatousa.org). Surprisingly, there was nothing on their site about the yam/sweet potato confusion. I actually emailed them and even heard back. They were very helpful and I did determine that what I bought were sweet potatoes. I also figured out that my favorite ones are called jewel sweet potatoes. I also determined that the darker, softer flesh varieties do not make for crispy fries—the flesh gets mushy. And on my next visit to the market, the regular sweet potatoes were out; guess I was just there between shipments or stocking or something.

And now, for someone who really isn't much of a sweet potato fan, I know more than I ever wanted to about sweet potatoes. Just don't show me funny-looking root vegetable and ask me which one it is :)

Spouting Off

“Argghh! $%^&* teapot!” I yelled one cold morning. “Stupid teapot. I hate this thing. Never liked it!” There was no time to bother with the spilled water or the badly designed teakettle. As I had attempted to pour boiling water into my mug, I had to tip the kettle very far over. The lid had fallen out and steam poured onto my hand as it gripped the handle right above the opening.

I iced the burn right away, my temper cooling off as the ice chilled my skin. For the rest of the morning, I had to keep ice on it. Every time I stopped, the pain came back as if the skin were continuing to burn.

Once the blasted thing had cooled off, I took the teakettle and lid and threw them into the trash—not the one in the house, the outside trash container. I never wanted to see that misbegotten thing again. I mean really, who designs a kettle with the spout attached up near the top? You practically have to turn the thing upside down to get the water out. And then, why is the handle connected at the top on either side of the lid—a completely removable lid. Is there any safe way to pour all the water out?

 With my hand—the area below my thumb mostly—resting on ice, I began a search on the Internet for the perfect teakettle. I discovered some fascinating teapots—at equally fascinating prices, I might add. And for clarity’s sake, I should explain. A teapot is something you put your tealeaves into. Then you pour hot water into it. A kettle, on the other hand, is for actually putting on the stove to heat the water. That was what I needed.

It really didn’t matter that some teapots were designed with spouts attached at the bottom. I was looking for a kettle.

Every single teakettle I found was badly designed. I just don’t understand it. Are we a society that just puts up with these things, overfilling our kettles so that we never have to pour out the last of the water while it’s hot? I’m reminded of a scene from Kate and Leopold about toasters (once is too light; toast it twice and it burns). Can I help it if I put the exact amount of water I want into the thing? Why waste water, not to mention time and energy to heat up the extra?

You know the amazing thing: coffee pots are better designed. The spout is more often attached at the middle or bottom of the pot. Are coffee drinkers smarter? Why do we put teakettles on the stove and have to plug in coffee pots? (Why are teapot and teakettle one word?) Why are these things labeled coffee pots? They are for heating water, but you plug them in—electric coffee pots—not teapots, not kettles.

Ice still on my thumb, my anger flaring, I drove to a shopping center to see these things in person. I checked the aisles of Target, the ice slowly dripping away. No luck, at least nothing designed to be placed on the stove, filled with water, and then containing some sort of spout or some such for pouring the water out. I did find one thing that  came close: an electric coffee pot. The spout attached at the bottom. The handle attached from the bottom to top of the opposite side. The lid was on a hinge. The only thing “wrong” with it was that it was electric. I couldn’t put it on the stove. And it was shaped like a “coffee pot.” Why a long cylindrical shape is a coffee pot and a short pudgy one is for tea is beyond me. Maybe it comes from days of old when tealeaves sat loosely in the bottom and coffee was pressed from the top.

Running out of ice, I hustled over to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Finding my way, and squeezing through the aisles that are blocked by the presence of half a person, I found the right spot, but no pots—none that fit my needs anyway. They all had spouts too close to the top and handles going right over the lid.

The ice gone, and the burning sensation coming back, I blasted my way back to Target. I’m sure people thought I was rude or crazed or wondered what was wrong with me. The pain in my thumb was becoming unbearable. I don’t know why it is, but it seems that pain from burns is more severe than other things—at least for me. I mean I turned down pain meds in the hospital after my appendectomy. But I’d have gladly taken something to deaden the pain from this burn.

I grabbed a box with an electric coffee pot in it—why isn’t it just called an electric water boiler or something? I mean it is meant only for water. You’re not supposed to ever put coffee in it.

The drive home was agony as I tried to find cold surfaces against which to press my burn. At home, I plunged my hand into a bowl of ice water and sat, breathing in a sigh of relief and staring at my new water-boiler.

I couldn’t help feeling disappointed, as my irrationality sank in. I realized that I had somehow equated buying a new teakettle with the elimination of the burn—or at least the pain. There I sat, in no need of hot water, wondering why I hadn’t just stayed home icing my thumb all morning instead of rushing around.

“What do you need a coffee pot for?” one of my kids asked.

“To boil water.”

They weren’t satisfied. “You could just use the microwave.” I admit that I couldn’t count the times we’ve heated water in the microwave. For a small amount, it somehow seemed quicker.

“Or just boil it in a pot. You’re good a pouring things without spilling.”

I really didn’t need them to be telling me how foolish an unnecessary this whole thing had been.

But I have to tell you, looking back now, I am glad I bought it. The thing works great and it is fast. In fact, it heats water faster than using either the microwave or our gas stove. The only problem I can see is if I want to boil water when there is a power failure and for that I can always use the stove.

So now, I can pour in the exact amount of water I want, grab the handle toward the bottom of the pot, and pour water over my teabag without getting burned.

It works great for making tea for myself, but when I need to make an entire pot—well, guess I’ll have to starting looking for that perfect teapot. Maybe it will be one meant for coffee.

Random Rants

            The idea for this blog was born one cold morning last May. I know it must have been cold or why else would I have been heating water to make tea. For more on that see “Spouting Off” (when I post it).

         That whole incident was like a big rant in my head, which I eventually wrote down (at least I thought I did, but I haven’t been able to find it, so I might just have to write it fresh and hope I get the details right).

         And so I thought it might be interesting to start a blog called Random Rants where I could post things monthly. Of course, with the word “random” in the title, I wouldn’t be forced to stick to a schedule but could post randomly as things occurred to me.

         Fast forward several months, I finally decided to look into different (free) blog options. In addition, I used Google to see what names were in use. Obviously, you’ve figured out that Random Rants is taken or that would be the name of my blog.

         Well, this sent me on my own cyber journey—an enlightening experience that verified that there is nothing new out there. Whatever we’ve thought of, someone else did too, and got there first—at least in my case. Even titles akin to “everythingelseistaken” were in use. Blogs using forms of “venting my spleen” abound.

         One day, I happened upon what I thought was a great and original idea for a blog—if completely non-descriptive. The Yodeling Yak. You see my older daughter was perusing an old alphabet book—probably saved because it was signed to her by the author. And there under “Y” it said something about yaks yodeling. Unfortunately, I was not the first to think that yodeling yak had a nice ring to it: it was taken—and not just by one person.

         “Ok,” I said to myself. “I need to come up with an original expression.” Afterall, as a writer attempting to avoid clichés, I put original expressions, metaphors, and similes in my characters’ mouths (and my narrators’). How hard could it be?

         As I thought about this, something else popped into my head—a phrase which I had invented (according to my parents) without even realizing it back when was a toddler. I must have already been familiar with empty-handed, not to mention right-handed and left-handed.

          Whenever my first use of the phrase “full-handed” occurred, it became a common expression in our family and something I use in writing—I think I’ve tried to stick it into every piece of middle-grade fiction so that whichever one gets published first, I’ll have that phrase in it.

         I really should stick it in my nonfiction as that’s the stuff that I am more successful at getting published. I wonder if Chicken Soup for the Soul would edit the phrase out. Hmmm.

         So, I searched for blogs called “full-handed” and came up empty-handed (lol). Thus, I decided to use that for the name of my blog. Unfortunately, the phrase has really nothing at all to do with the blog.

         I am not limiting myself to stories that include being full-handed. This blog is for sharing my opinion (I’m never at a loss for one of those) on common and maybe uncommon events we all encounter in daily lives.

         I hope that you will also submit your own perspectives for me to include (credited to you of course) as well.

         This is not intended for political posturing, slander, insulting particular people, etc. Of course, I might be breaking my own guidelines: “Spouting Off” could be an insult to teapot makers everywhere…

         So, welcome, take a look around, come back often, and let me know what you think.  :)