Black Fridays & Discount Knights

As you may know, I come from a family of modest means. We also have a competitive streak, which can turn shopping into a contact sport. At family gatherings, our conversation centers far more around how much we saved on something than how much we spent on something. We're Calvinist enough to view conspicuous consumption as a rather tawdry sin. (Or maybe those poor folk just don't know how to shop.) Seriously - my father brags that for many years, his hobby was scouring auctions to set up housekeeping for three children (and I can state that my first apartment was decorated with solid wood furniture - not a milk crate or particleboard bookcase in sight) and many a family tale revolves around the finer points of haggling. The running joke is that the motto of our thrifty clan should be "Never pay retail!" We're just too darn cheap to get it translated into Latin.

All this said, I still don't see the point of camping out in front of Wal-Mart to buy a 50-inch plasma TV at four a.m. Think about who/what is up at that time of the night. Muggers and owls. Anyone else is pretty much prey. No, thank you - I'll stay snuggled under the covers (closeout price and and irregular, but I defy you to find the flaw) until the coffeemaker (30% off) kicks on at a reasonable hour. I'll then stuff my feet into my leopard-print slippers (10% off; I really wanted them so I got them despite nearly paying retail) and shuffle to the kitchen to get the milk out of the fridge (25% off, scratch 'n' dent sale).

See, to me, Black Friday is the consumer equivalent of New Year's Eve, which is amateur night. True talent (a fully-spurred Discount Knight) smiles, sips a second cup of coffee, and saunters out around 9:00. Sure, the 50-inch plasma TVs are gone by then, but did you really need one in the first place?

Didn't think so.

So take the money you saved by not getting hysterical over the techno-gizmos and divide it into two piles. With one, do whatever you want. But use the other to help someone else out. Send it to the local food bank or take a couple of "angels" off a tree set up for needy kids (and adults) this holiday season. Or send it to the Central Asia Institute, which devotes donations to building schools (primarily for girls) in Pakistan. Or send it to Heifer International, which lives out the adage of "teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." If those don't float your boat, find another worthy cause - there are plenty out there.

Then count your blessings that you're the one sending the donation instead of the one fervently praying that someone else does.

Beethoven Is So Metal!

Most people associate classical music with tinkly harpsichords and men in prissy powdered wigs (and maybe knickers). It's an unfortunate linking, for classical music is hardly all polite tea and crumpets. It's passion and sweat and hunger and yearning. With kettledrums.

The Trans-Siberian Orchestra ("TSO" to its legions of fans) understands this and works very hard to bring the thrill of classical music to a wider audience. Think Pink Floyd style laser light shows, hot backup singers (with a three-octave range!), and a lead fiddle player whaling away on a hot pink electric violin. I know, it sounds quirky (perhaps bordering on bizarre), but FryDaddy and I had an awesomely good head-bangin' time.

Mind you, FryDaddy and I have different tastes in music - he can rattle off arcane facts about metal bands and is a closet Dethklok fan (this is what happens when you begin reading Nietzsche at the tender age of nine; let this be a lesson to you), while my dark musical secrets include the Monkees - but vive la difference.

Some classical lends itself easily to this bass-heavy treatment (Orff's "O Fortuna" leaps to mind), but TSO makes it work with pieces that you wouldn't think would come together. Then again, I've often heard that all you need is a guitar, three chords, and the truth.

Beethoven might not have had a guitar, but TSO lets you dream of what could have happened if Ludwig had gotten his hands on a Stratocaster.

5 Good Things

It seems that every time I turn around these days, I'm beset by gloom and doom. Let's face it, the economy has everyone as nervous as a hen in a foxhouse, groceries seem to cost $15 more on every trip to the store, some teachers in Charlotte, NC know enough technology to set up Facebook pages but lack the common sense to edit what they post publicly and there has been a spike in gun sales lately - something that doesn't exactly shout "Happy Holidays!"

Well, I'm here to tell you that it's just not that bad, Drake. (Don't ask who "Drake" is - my brother-in-law uses that name as his generic "John Q. Public" reference and I sort of like it.) I'm not saying that the holidays aren't going to experience a certain level of cut-backedness, but there's some very good stuff going on right now.

Such as? Ah, you are a cynical reader. What about:

1. Hand turkeys! One of my favorite goofy art projects. When's the last time you made one of these classics? Grab a box of crayons and a piece of paper - a napkin will do in a pinch - and try this out! Always fun and guaranteed to liven up a staff meeting! (Or an exam - check this out!)

2. Progressive dinners. A group of my friends started doing this a few months ago. In the classic form, the party is a "moveable feast" which goes from house to house as the meal progresses (hence the name). We do it more as a potluck. Whoever is the host takes care of the main course, and everyone else fills in with salad, appetizers, desserts, and so on. For our group, every month has a theme - Italian, German and this month is Russian (FryDaddy had a stroganov recipe he wanted to try out). It's a fun way to socialize without breaking the bank.

3. The peaceful transfer of power. Seriously, I think we forget how extremely rare and supremely cool this is. A hard-fought election, spread out over nearly two years, plenty of nasty things said on both sides, and now - poof! It's like voting tallies are the pixie dust of democracy.

4. Unseasonably warm days. I actually had the windows open for most of today. A good thing, since the Spookster had been muddy and somewhat - ummm, aromatic lately.

5. Candy corn. Gotta love this stuff. And look here - a way to use it to add to a tasty Thanksgiving Day treat! The best of both worlds - slice 'n' bake cookies AND toothsome fat-free (but chock-full o'sugar!) candy bits!

There's plenty of good out there. What have you noticed lately?

Now What?

On Tuesday, I watched Election Night returns with several friends in a sort of impromptu party. I can't deny it - there was a certain tingle of excitement in the air. History was being made and I held my breath as I served as both participant and witness.

But what does it say about me that I learned the identity of my next president from Jon Stewart? Hmmm. Might have to ponder that for a while. We were all watching the Stewart/Colbert report and flipping to CNN during the commercials. I'll admit that I dashed over to Anderson Cooper for confirmation before I believed much of anything.

After all the nastiness of a protracted campaign, I am left with two questions. One, why does anyone put themselves through this? Okay, I know the answer to that one. (Watch the video.) And two, now what?

No matter how you look at it, the "election thing" is done. The country spoke decisively (the days Reagan-style landslides are over; 52% of the popular vote is plenty to be considered definitive with 364 electoral votes in your column [Missouri is really living up to its "show me" motto and hasn't been called yet]) and there are no pending "spoiler" court cases. I'll admit to getting misty-eyed at President-Elect Obama's victory speech, as well as thinking that John McCain showed grace under pressure with his concession speech. I've taken down my yard sign (first one I've ever put up and it was a job of work to get it!), done the happy dance that my state went blue this go-round and am ready to move forward with the business of tackling what must be considered by any sane person to be "a mell of a hess." Winning is one thing - now it's time to deliver.

It's time to quit blustering (or worse, pouting) and roll up our sleeves. Let's get to work, people. We've got a country to re-make. We can't let this chance trickle away like sand through our fingers. We just can't.

Please.

Elections & Other Scary Stuff

As you can tell from the photo, Spooky loves Halloween! (With a name like that, she should. It seemed to fit - she adopted me five Octobers ago and the name just sort of stuck.) She's patient enough to indulge me in the funny collar sort of thing and you have to admit - she's cute! You can't really tell in the picture, but the points of the collar are tiny little pumpkins. Spooky doesn't care, but she doesn't care for the jingling.

Tonight is Halloween and I've had the pleasure of distributing Skittles and miniature candy bars to a host of ladybugs, tigers and at least one li'l Tony Stark. However, my vote is not available to the candidate with the cutest outfit. Although the prospect of a horde of candidates running amok in my neighborhood pleading for my vote scares me more than a rowdy crowd of teens festooning my oak trees with quilted Northern. Trick or treat, indeed!

At any rate, in four days, the United States will have a shiny new president (barring lawsuits, of course - which seem to be an integral part of modern politics. Sigh.). I'm not going to get partisan here - vote and vote thoughtfully and you'll have no problem with me. But it has been a scary season, hasn't it? Advertisements that have accused candidates of every vice short of cannibalism have dominated the airwaves for months and there's a stench of desperation in the air wafting over several campaigns on both sides of the aisle. I'm ready for the whole thing to be done. And to the naysayers who claim, "If we elect (fill in the blank), America as we know it will be over!" I say, "Nonsense." We survived Harding's incompetence; we'll make it through whatever comes next. But I'm beyond ready for the supposed grownups among us to learn how to disagree without demonizing.

A girl can hope.

The Fat Lady Is a Myth

Most of the time, I'm a jeans-&-sneakers kind of girl. But, like most women, I'm a mystery. Add to that the fact that I spent most of my twenties backstage at one theatre or another and you begin to see why my closet contains the clothes of any number of women. Who will I be today? Cowboy boots or pumps? Velvet or cotton? Stretchy T-shirt or frilly blouse?

Now, FryDaddy and I have a standing date once a week. Normally, it's a quiet dinner & a movie sort of thing. But this week, we went in an entirely different direction and went to Carolina Opera's production of Faust. Now this was something special - new clothes were involved, along with a visit to the spa for what would (if I were a car, which I am not) be considered detail work.

I hadn't gone to an opera in many a year and I know the art form has a reputation for being boring and difficult. Nonsense! (Hee, hee - just check out the Bugs Bunny take on it!) Opera is life writ large - everything is just bigger! The sets, the emotions, the raw passion - it's grand! And despite the icon of the "fat lady," opera singers can be downright buff!

What? You don't want to go because you don't speak German/French/Italian? Don't worry - most opera houses have "supertitles" projected above the stage so you can follow along. But if you watch carefully and allow yourself to get swept up in what you're watching, you'll hardly even need the translation.

Go on! Give it a try! You'll be joining 20 million other Americans - surely, something that popular (it's about the same number of people who attend NFL games - only with fewer people wearing body paint) must have something going for it!

Instrument of Destruction!

I've heard it said that a friend is someone who will help you move. I'm here to tell you that isn't quite true - a real friend is someone who will help you move a piano! I'm fortunate indeed to have a slew of friends who are not only willing to give up a chunk of their weekend to help me with a task that is practically a standard in comedy sketches (although this one is impressive!) involving pulley systems and steep hills, but told me repeatedly that it was "no problem."

In true Discount Knight fashion, the piano was a find in and of itself - some folks were moving and couldn't take the solidly-built 1901 upright with them. If I could move it, I could have it. This was too good for pass up, although it's been many a year since I so much as played "Chopsticks."

Now, moving a piano is no small task. It's a full-size upright and they built things to last back in 1901. As Victorian Marxist pointed out, "I don't know what sort of wood this thing is made of, but it ain't balsa!" The piano also has a cast iron (or brass, maybe??) frame to hold the strings in place. In short, it was a job of work and did I mention there were stairs involved? But my crew - Stacked Librarian, FryDaddy, Victorian Marxist, Binary Biker, and BeanCounter worked with good cheer and solid horse sense and we now all have a story to tell. (And no smashed fingers, toes, or other body parts!)

I should go practice my scales now. I better know how to plink out something other than "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" by the time the holidays roll around!

Seriously - don't try to go through life alone, even if you're not moving a piano.