We interrupt this broadcast for a few words. . .
So, I have been wondering why it is that our city has spent umpteen millions of dollars to provide a left turn lane in the middle of the main drag through town. This item is supposed to expedite traffic by allowing people a place to turn into, crossing one pair of lanes of traffic. Once ensconced there, they can then wait safely for a break in the traffic coming the other way and merge with it. This allows them to get out of the way of people behind them.
But no, the idiots driving in this town still persist in believing that they must wait for a break in both directions so they can pull across TWO lanes of traffic coming from their left AND the left turn lane INTO the traffic coming from their right. Needless to say, having to wait for a break in at least three lanes of traffic really slows them down. I barely managed to keep my temper and not ram the person in front of me that was wasting time in such a dithery manner yesterday.
I’m pretty sure my blood pressure went up, though, and I did find myself shouting epithets in their direction, which of course they were as oblivious to as they were the traffic laws.
I’m pretty sure most of the drivers in this area have actually passed the drivers test, and I am also pretty sure that the information on how to deal with a center turn lane is on the test. Similarly, the way to negotiate a roundabout is also on that exam, and yet I still see people approaching our sole roundabout with trepidation and uncertainty. I have even seen them going the wrong way on it because they just can’t comprehend the concept of circular vehicular circulation.
It makes me froth at the mouth.
So did this:
These are the tags that were stapled to the end of every single piece of lumber my dear husband purchased the other day for the refurbishment of the arbor in the vegetable garden.
I remember a time when you would go into your lumber/hardware store and approach the counter where a nice clerk would take your order for building materials, they would write your order up, and you would pay for it. Then you would take your receipt out to the yard where another very nice person would help you load your lumber into your vehicle. Two people with jobs, and a customer with an assistant to get the heavy stuff loaded — this is all good.
Nowadays you go to a store and pick out your own lumber, conveniently located in an air conditioned environment. You load this stuff onto a giant cart and push the whole mess through the store to a clerk, who then uses a scanner to enter the price code in the computer. You pay the clerk, and then you schlep your stuff out to your vehicle and load it yourself.
One person is now out of a job — the yard man. Additionally, the store has to provide the giant carts, lots of space for the air conditioned storage of large piles of lumber, and an expensive scanner. The lumber producer has to buy thousands of those little plastic tags (not recyclable, by the way) which are then stapled to the end of each and every one of the pieces of lumber they produce.
I find it fascinating that every piece of lumber my husband buys now has a tag that includes a limitation of liability statement in fine print on the back. All hail the attorneys of the world and the litigious society they represent!!!
The little plastic tags that are affixed to every piece of fruit and every vegetable also bug me. The process of affixing these tags bruises the apples and tomatoes. Apparently it is necessary to slap a tag that says “RIPE” on certain avocadoes, the mystical process of determining ripeness of an avocado is apparently beyond the comprehension of the modern shopper. Additionally, the little piece of plastic is apparently impervious to every degradation process short of burnning, for if they are not removed from the peel before it goes into the compost pile, they emerge from the composting process completely unchanged. I fine these little items in my garden mulch all the time — as bright and snappy as the day they were manufactured.
What was wrong with the clerk at the store knowing what kind of apple that was and the code for it? They still have to enter the code, they just don’t have to remember it any more. Does this actually save any time or money?
Okay, so to change from frothing at the mouth to drooling, I will submit the following image.
That, my dears, is a Tarte tatin, which involved apples caramelized in a skillet with a shortbread crust on top, which is then baked and inverted after baking. This one was made with Pink Lady apples. Jim tested this recipe while I was in Costa Rica, and when I arrived at the airport hotel after being in transit all day, it was waiting my attention. It is probably one of the better things I have had in my mouth lately, and is what we are going to be taking to the sauna this evening.
Jim’s reputation as a fine chef is bound to be enhanced by this offering.
We now return you to our regularly scheduled programming. . .