The Artisan

The definition of artisan is "a person or company that makes a high-quality, distinctive product in small quantities, usually by hand and using traditional methods: food artisans". For some reason this term has become a catch phrase for the marketing of bread products. Local chain stores are making "Artisan" breads. Large fast food chains are putting their meats on "Artisan" rolls. Yesterday I saw "Artisan" Tostito's. This is contradictory to the definition of the word. The last time I looked, I did not see a baker in Burger King. I cannot imagine the person that works in the Tostito factory making each chip by hand. That would be grueling work and would take many hours to fill one bag. Someone in a marketing firm found this phrase and thought it would fool the public into thinking that the product they are purchasing is made in Europe in a small bistro shop. I resent people that think I can be so easily tricked. If they truly wanted to be honest in advertising, the product label would read "mass produced, chemically enhanced, overly salted bread made in bulk in a large factory setting". The company would be honest but bankrupt.

Tennis Anyone

This morning my parents got up early and went to the clubhouse in their community. Each week various clubs set up tables for the community members to join. They have luncheons, trips and events. I asked my parents what clubs they were signing up for. They said "tennis club, Italian American club, Democratic club and Snow Bird club. I understand the Democratic and Snow Bird clubs but was baffled by the other two. My parents are 89 years old and never held a tennis racquet. They are also not Italian. I asked them how they can be part of the tennis club if they do not play the game. They said no one in the club plays tennis. Maybe they did years ago, but not now. They said that the tennis club has good trips and the Italian club serves good food. The state of Florida makes me laugh. It is the only state in which a couple in their 80's can buy property and take out a 30 year mortgage. They can also renew an eight year driver's license at 95 years of age. God Bless them all.

The 60 Day'er

I belong to Costco, a wholesale shopper's club. You pay a yearly fee and are allowed to buy bulk food items for lower than usual prices. Of course you still need to be a good shopper because regular supermarket sales are sometimes a better value. A new wholesale club, BJ's, opened up in a neighboring town and to promote business they mailed out coupons to be a free member for 60 days, to see if you like their store. I decided to go see the new store and went to customer service to open my free membership. The store was nice and carried some different items than Costco. I signed up, had my ugly grainy picture taken, and began to shop. As I got to the first aisle, I saw someone with a circular. I asked an employee where the circulars are and she said at the customer service counter. I went back to the counter and asked for a circular. The girl took one from a box behind her and almost handed it to me. Almost. In the flash of an eye, the woman who opened up my new account appeared behind me, almost on my back. She shouted, "Don't give her the circular...she is a 60 day'er". I felt like a spotlight was being shined upon me. Like a prisoner trying to break out. In a split second I had been labeled, "A 60 Day'er". Segregated from the "regular" people. Discriminated against for my free membership. I walked away feeling shunned and found a circular in an abandoned cart. There was nothing in it that interested me. I have no idea why the woman needed to make a big deal out of a little piece of paper.

Beautiful Moon

Yesterday afternoon I was in my backyard and saw the beginning of a beautiful sunset. The sky was bright orange and the air was crisp and cool. As I looked to the left, I saw the moon. A bright yellow full moon. It was then that I realized that a full month had passed since the storm. Twenty eight days on the calendar but a lifetime for many. Last month the full moon brought devastation. This month is brought only beauty.

Marketing and Produce

When I was a child, I used to go to the supermarket with my mother. We walked there, pulling a small metal shopping cart behind us. Those were the days when most moms did not drive. The shopping cart was our set of wheels. Once we arrived at the store, the first aisle we went down was the produce aisle. There were stacks of kelly green paper bags next to each bin of fruits and vegetables. You filled the bags with your fresh produce and continued to shop. I can still remember what the aisle smelled like from the mix of paper and fruits. Last night I received an email from one of my doctors. It started off like this..."I do not want to do marketing and was not hired here to produce". Those two words jumped off the screen. Marketing and Produce. Over fifty years the meaning of those words has changed as much as our society has changed, but in reality the meaning never changed. When I was a kid, my mother did marketing to put food on our table. Nowadays young moms still do marketing to put food on the table, but now it is done from an office and on a computer screen. The only produce they are really interested in is the business numbers that their marketing has produced.

Chessed Dollars

I was in Sheepshead Bay yesterday shopping in the local stores. Much of this area is now Russian and it is quite apparent that there is a cultural difference. The stores are stocked with Russian brands and most of the signs are also in Russian. I love cultural diversity and the new foods that I have tried are very good. As I was checking out at one of the fruit stands, I saw a sign that said, "We accept Chessed Dollars". I had no idea what that meant so I asked the cashier. In broken English, she said "For Jewish people". I said, "Is that Russian money?" and she replied again, "For Jewish people".  I did not ask anything further because I knew I would get the same answer. Instead I went home and looked on the internet. It seems that Chessed Dollars are like gift certificate dollars that are bought through local Yeshivas. You buy the money and when you use it in a store, the store gives a percentage back to the Yeshiva as a donation. Yeshivas require you to purchase this money, sometimes thousands of dollars of it, but in the past no stores really accepted it. By accepting these dollars, the store owners are steering people to their stores and away from the other stores that do not accept the money. It is a convoluted plan that really only works in the Yeshiva's favor. I hope that next time I go to Brooklyn, I am not required to pay in Disney Dollars.

Brooklyn Bound

This morning my sister and I are going to Brooklyn to check my parent's house. We have not been there since the storm and heard from a neighbor that a few shingles had flown off the roof. We are hoping that is all of the damage and that the inside of the house is still okay. My parents house is a brick row house that was built in the 1930's. They really knew how to build houses in those days. Cement walls, parquet floors and rounded doorways. The original windows had blocks of stained glass. In the 1960's, people decided that stained glass was old fashioned so they replaced it with clear glass. Most people threw the old glass away but my father kept it and now I have it. One day I will frame it and hang it like a picture. So, off we go hoping to find the house safe and sound.