August 05, 2009

Things Fall Apart

Posted by Kate Flora

Has anyone else noticed that things don't last anymore? Is anyone else getting a bit cross about it? This summer, I'm finding that all those cool products I've found at the Christmas Tree Shop--those lovely bits of accessory furniture, my beautiful blue bowl, my table-in-a-bag for cocktails on the beach--they all work for a few times, or a few weeks, and then they fall apart.

July 2009 029 This weekend it was that blue bowl. Now I'm the first to admit that I'm a nutcase when it comes to taking pictures of food, so that blue bowl was an important accessory. But it was also nearly new. It had only made a few appearances on the weekend table when I was stirring up some potato salad with organic potatoes and noticed a large crack along the side.

Last week, it was some imported, embroidered pillow covers designed to tie a room together. The week before that, I discovered that the cute striped pillows from Pier 1 had the white "DO NOT REMOVE ON PAIN OF DEATH" labels sewn into the seam in a way the made their complete removal impossible.

I, for one, am ready to buy American, and pay more, if I can only get some quality goods. Maybe they're made in China--I don't know--but my lovely new LL Bean yellow sheets don't shrink, grow softer in the wash, and aren't coming apart at the seams. I only wish there were some way to know which things would last.

I'm all for a radical "take things back and complain" movement. Who wants to join me? Of course, it shouldn't be radical. It shouldn't happen that the part of the lamp harp that holds the shade on the lamp snaps off when I go to straighten the shade. We who hate to shop and hate doing errands shouldn't have to spend our time carrying the goods BACK to the store. And so we don't. And so the bad goods keep on coming.
_____________________

But enough of complaining. After endless rain, we're having a sunny week. A hot week. And I'm inside at my computer. But later today, I'm jumping in the car and driving to Maine, where the sea breeze will be cool and I can swim in the ocean. So now I'm thinking about picking blueberries, making summer salads, reading a good book, a glass of white wine, and perhaps, if I'm very lucky, a lobster dinner.

What are you thinking of doing next weekend? And does anyone have a great recipe for a summer soup? It's such a clever way of eating more vegetables, if only I could think of a recipe.  Happy August!

Swimming

Kate Flora
By Kate Flora
Aug 5, 2009 11:30:31 AM | Kate's posts

4 Comments

Dennis

Things just DO NOT LAST!!! What is the reason for that??? I do not know. Just another reason to stimulate the economy. Yeah ... like we have to have another reason.

Posted by: Dennis | August 05, 2009 at 07:25 PM

Sheila Connolly

When some of us were growing up, the term "made in Japan" meant shoddy goods that would fall apart quickly. That certainly changed, but now it's "made in China". We've become a throwaway society--just check out the dumps.

On the flip side, a few years ago I ordered a wall-mounted medicine cabinet, sight unseen, from Pottery Barn. It arrived, and it was everything it was advertised to be. What's more, the packaging was magnificient, including the red (real ribbon) bow. I wrote to them just to compliment them on the ensemble. And it's lasted well.

Posted by: Sheila Connolly | August 06, 2009 at 09:46 AM

Jeanne's older sister - Pat

If you happen to purchase something at Target and don't try it out for a while because it is a hose fitting and it has been raining for 2 months - beware - they won't honor a refund for anything purchased more than 90 days ago. I found that out the hard way - even had the receipt - oho - it was dated. Got a brass hose shutoff in February when they first came out for seasonal items. Had to use a pair of plyers to get the shut off handle to turn and then when I turned on the hose - low and behold it sent a stream of water out of the shut downed item. I eventually got ahold of the manufacturer and they weren't going to make it good either - until I questioned shoddy workmanship - they sent me a replacement - Thank You. So Christmas Tree Shop and Ocean State Job Lots compete with other discount stores for their share of junky products.

Posted by: Jeanne's older sister - Pat | August 06, 2009 at 09:54 AM

Ann Blair Kloman

Kate
Have been in Tenants Harbor for 6 weeks and the sun has been out for the last 4 days! Mosquitos the size of vampire bats. No blueberries in my garden! My complaint: a future topic for your more ascerbic sp? tongue is Packaging! It takes a crowbar with a gorilla to get anything open before it breaks. Best Ann

Posted by: Ann Blair Kloman | August 13, 2009 at 12:24 PM

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The Futility of Housework Posted by Lorraine (L.L.) Bartlett, and her non-cleaning alter ego Lorna Barrett There's nothing nicer than coming home from a trip out of town and walking into a clean house. Wish that would happen to me sometime. Heck, I wish I'd come back from the grocery store and walk into a clean house. The thing is, except for a few jobs, I don't mind housework--in very small increments, that is. Washing dishes? For two of us, it's not bad. It's all those cat bowls that seem to multiply by the hour . . . Laundry? I don't mind the washing and drying part. What could be easier? Throw it in one machine, toss it in the next. It's the folding and putting away that seems like drudgery. The two jobs I hate the most--cleaning the kitchen sink, and cleaning the bathroom. Fun? I think not! I've thought about hiring someone to come in and clean. My cousin cleans houses and she'd love to have a new client. But I'd feel funny having a friend/relative cleaning my house. She says she's seen it all--and from her stories, she apparently has--but I don't want her to experience any fodder for future stories of that in my house! But the thought of hiring someone to come in has stayed with me for quite a while. The problem is . . . I have a lot of books, magazines -- okay, clutter -- messing up the place. Leann--who has a cleaner come in--tells me you need to move the clutter so they can clean. This has proved to be quite a problem. You see, I've run out of wall space. Our contemporary ranch has LOTS of windows. Lots of windows means lack of space. I have bookshelves (filled with books, of course) crammed in every corner. One of my bookshelves actually serves as my office. I have a shelf I use as a writing desk. (I read where you stop burning calories the minute you sit down, so figured I should stand as much as possible for these little tasks.) I sign bookmarks, write out envelopes, write thank-you notes, while standing in front of my work shelf. (It's where I keep my stamps and address stickers, too, else I'd never find them.) But as usual, I digress . . . I'd really like a tidy house, and occasionally I'll go on a "LET'S GET THIS PLACE IN SHAPE" campaign (like Sheila mentioned yesterday--usually when someone is scheduled to visit). I recently tossed a huge stack of magazines into the recycle bin, and felt pretty good about it . . . until I realized I still had ten times that I hadn't tossed. The thing is . . . I actually do reread these magazines. (Especially my old issues of Victoria Magazine.) Lots of times I'll pick one room to work on. Usually it takes an hour or more, even if the room doesn't need much work. Why? Because I get distracted so easily. Oh, look! There's a bunch of old Christmas cards in this drawer. Wonder who sent them? Oh--here's that magazine article I was looking for. So that's where the cheese articles I've been saving for Avery Aames went! Mind you, my house is not a candidate for one of those cleaning TV shows that feature pack rats and hoarders. I admit, one of my all-time favorite TV shows is How Clean Is Your House--I've waxed poetically of my admiration for its hosts, Kim and Aggie. I've read their book--adopted more than a few of their cleaning tips. Now I just need to put it all together. Or better yet. Just hire someone to do it for me. Now, how many pop bottles (at 5 cents each) do I need to collect per month to have this happen?
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Remembering Bill Tapply posted by Jeanne Munn Bracken Anyone lucky enough to meet Bill Tapply (William G. Tapply to library catalogers) knew he was a gentleman and a scholar. To that I would add Fine Human Being. I met Bill quite a few years ago, before I became the Mystery Maven of the Minuteman Library Network, before I started spending vacations at Bouchercons and Left Coast Crimes and Malice Domestics (Malices Domestic?) I put together a program of speakers for the library where I was working at that time and knew that Bill Tapply, author of the Brady Coyne mystery series among other books, lived in our area. Bill came to the library and spoke about writing mysteries but also about fishing, because he was a Fisherman Extraordinaire. He got it from his father, who was a renowned outdoor writer, and Bill became a columnist in Field and Stream. Heck, I knew Bill when he co-authored a romantic novel with Linda Barlow, who was in my first writers' group. Yeah, that long ago. Bill published a lot of writing about fishing and other outdoor topics, about writing mysteries, and of course all those mystery novels as well. He was still teaching and House Master at a suburban high school at that time. Not long afterward I chanced to be driving on a back road one sunny afternoon and spotted Bill standing on the shore of Ice House Pond, scoping out the fishing possibilities. Stopping to chat, I learned that he was quitting teaching to write full time. Bill is one of the few writers I know who have managed to make a full-time career of it, and he was amazingly generous in teaching others with similar aspirations. Over the years I bumped into him at conferences, library talks, and at an inn tavern in Hancock, New Hampshire, near his beloved Chickadee Farm, where he ran writers' workshops with his wife Vicki Stiefel and rotating guest presenters. Sometimes my friend Katherine Hall Page was there, but on that occasion he was with his writing buddy Phil Craig (Philip R. Craig to library catalogers). Bill's Brady Coyne lives and works in the Boston area and Phil's J. W. Jackson on Martha's Vineyard, but it was a sure bet that any of their books included a fishing expedition. Nor was it a big surprise when Brady and J. W. got together for a few adventures in books co-authored by the pair of writers. And of course, Brady and J. W. went fishing. So we all knew what a blow it was to Bill when Phil died two years ago. There would be no more jointly authored adventures, no more fishing trips to the Vineyard or wherever. Bill grieved as any really close friend would. We were all worried when Bill was diagnosed with leukemia. He was teaching at Clark University in Worcester at the time, running workshops with Vicki at Chickadee Farm, posting on DorothyL and other web venues. That all had to stop, of course, as Bill and his family struggled with the diagnosis and the often devastating therapies for cancer. Cancer is a bitch, but I thought Bill had beaten it. After the requisite period of hospitalization, weakness, and baldness, he rallied and picked up his old life. It was with real relief that the mystery community learned Bill would be teaching again at Clark this fall semester, would be attending and speaking at Crime Bake in November. Bill was back. Death came in on Sandburg's little cat feet, stealing Bill's health and his life from an infection that just overwhelmed his body. He was with Vicki and their children at the farm while close friends waited for the bad and final news. A week ago, it came. The last time I saw Bill, a year and a half ago, he would be speaking at the DeCordova Museum in Lincoln, MA, on writing mysteries, with Katherine Hall Page and Katherine Lasky. I arrived early and was sitting on the steps in the lovely spring evening when Bill came, sat down next to me, and we chatted for a few minutes. His death has been devastating for the mystery community and especially for his family and close friends. My deepest condolences to all of them, and I leave you with one final, perhaps comforting thought. I happen to believe in an Afterlife, and I know Bill and Phil have gone fishin'.

Lorraine Bartlett

Five women, five weekdays, many surprises.

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