Whatever happened to cocktail hour?

When I was a kid back in the 1950s, parents used to set aside a time at the end of the day, usually about 5 p.m., for what they called "cocktail hour."  It meant the end of the work day, when the men came home from their jobs, exhausted from a day at the factory or the office, and the wives, who had been home all day tending to kids and cleaning and cooking, had a cocktail ready, which they shared with their husbands.  It was the end of the work day for both, a time to relax, with the help of gin or whiskey or whatever.  A short period of down time before supper and the onslaught of kid problems and, once again, reality.

As I imagine it, this must have been a nice time when men and women let down their hair for an hour or so and just remembered who they used to be.  The day's work was done, the evening meal was yet to be served.  Adult time.  A drink or two for both mom and dad at the end of a trying day and before the problems of children and night descended, blotting out the day.

But was that how it was?  Did the wives get to share in the cocktails?  I don't know.  Do you?

I think we might want to re-visit and re-imagine that special hour and re-imagine it, so that this time men and women, husbands and wives, husbands and husbands, wives and wives, lovers and lovers, whoever and whovever, all set aside an hour or so at the end of the day to relax.  Just relax.  Enjoy a drink or two that let's you, at least for a short while, remember who you were before all this mayhem set in.

After all, our parents, those who enjoyed or should have enjoyed, the cocktail hour, were once just like us: kids who grew up and wanted nothing more than to love life, to dance and go crazy and forget their jobs, if just for a while.  But then they had kids.

Us.

Aren't we sort of like that again?  Aren't we all stressed by our jobs, if we have one, and looking for relief at the end of the day?  Let's bring back the cocktail hour.

But what is a cocktail?

It's not wine and beer.  Oh please.  Those are for sissies.

A cocktail is a blending of different alcoholic beverages to make something that tastes good and gets you pleasantly high if you have one or two and zonked if you have one too many.

The cocktail hour, to repeat myself, is a time at the end of the day when we mix ourselves strong drinks -- martinis, old-fashioneds, Manhattans on the rocks -- and try to tune out the day and get back into touch with our old selves, the young ones who had so many dreams and so much ambition.  If just for an hour or so.

I think most humans need some down time at the end of a work day, whether at the office or the factory or just at home with unruly kids.  And it's up to each of us to figure out what that down time is.  Maybe some of us just unwind with family, playing with the kids, spending time with a spouse.

But some of us -- most of us? -- need something extra to help us let go of all that work and relapse into our natural/comfortable selves.  Some of us can't just let go of the job and all that it implies without something that helps us relax -- in a hurry.  Life doesn't do it, but a stiff drink will.  Or two.

Cocktail hour used to be a real thing, a real event -- booze at the end of a work day -- but nowadays it may just mean an hour when we loosen the tie, kick off the dress shoes, and zone out in front of the TV.  Still, I'm thinking a generous shot of vodka in a Tom Collins might help the process.

We humans work and work and work and then die.  Isn't that depressing?  Of course it is, but in the meantime we love and lose and grow up and get smart and maybe have children and -- whoa!  It all goes by so fast!  Let's slow it down.

Remember when you first fell in love?  Remember when you got your first job?  Remember when you landed that job you really liked?  Remember when you got the job you did the rest of your life?  Remember when you got married?  Remember how that worked out?  Or not?

Life is at times really hard and really fun, misery and ecstasy, boredom and inspiration.  If we're smart, we take it as it comes and try to make the best of our talents.  But we all get tired by the end of the day and just want to zonk out, not be bothered, not be talked to.  Of course we rally and do what we have to do, but it's not easy.  A drink or two of something strong helps

Cocktail hour is for those who can handle their booze but want a quick fix, however temporary, to alleviate the ills of the day.  It is not for those who really need it, who crave just one more opportunity to drink.  Cocktail hour was and is a civilized way to let responsible adults indulge at the end of a work day.  No drunks allowed.

Let's bring back cocktail hour. We deserve it.

I always liked manhattans and old-fashioneds.  I have friends who swear by martinis.  A Tom Collins, by the way, is not technically a cocktail, as it involves juices mixed with alcohol.  A true cocktail is just booze in all sorts of combinations.

Enjoy!  But be careful.  We're all grown-ups now, right?

You can't undo love.

Once you've been in love with someone, you can't undo it. As much as you might like to.  Sorry, but what's done is done.  If you fall out of love with someone you've been in love with, the process of getting free, un-tangling yourself from all that is tricky at best. And very sad at worst.

But the memory of that love remains forever.  It's always a part of you.

The good news is that once you've been "in love" you know what it's like and should be on alert for it happening again, with the knowledge you gained from the first time. The bad news is that it can strike you again without warning, and it may be, again, someone you shouldn't be falling in love with.

Saying you're in love with someone is a serious statement, as the other person is likely to take it as a promise  to stay with him or her forever.  Be careful before you say it. [See an earlier posting.]

This is not to be confused with silly avowals of love you may utter during dating or even sex with someone you don't really want to see again -- as long as the other person understands you didn't mean it.  We may all, in the first ecstatic dates with someone really attractive, or at the moment of climax, say "I love you" without understanding its import.  Try not to.  Just say, "Wow, that was great."  Don't make commitments based on a one-night stand.

But sooner or later we all meet someone we think might be our life partner. ( If we're lucky, or unlucky, we meet more than one).  Real love only hits us once or twice in a lifetime, and we know when it happens. We can't explain it, but we know it.  And nobody can tell us -- however they might try -- any different.

Most of us fall in love for the first time when we're very young, probably teenagers, and it almost never works out, so that we're already down one with only more left to go. (Okay, maybe two.)  If we're lucky we fall in love for the first time when we're a little older and maybe smarter, which gives us a much better chance of making it work and also of picking a better partner next time around if the first one doesn't last.

Smarter is always better.

What does it mean to "fall in love"?  Endless songs and poems have been written about it, but what, really, does it mean?  Since it sort of defies explanation, let me offer this: Being in love means that you think you could live the rest of your life with this person, that you understand his/her faults but can forgive them, that you want to share your body and your innermost thoughts with this person right now and for years to come.  You imagine yourself staying with this other person, physically, intimately, psychologically, intellectually, for all eternity or at least for the rest of your lives.  For better or worse.  Amen.

And -- the big AND -- you think this other person could/would be a good father/mother to your children.  Because -- sorry for the spoiler -- a time will come when the sex wanes and, with the arrival of children, the responsibilities multiply, so you'd better be sure that person you fell in love with is a responsible adult who can handle the big changes that not just marriage but also kids will dump in his/her lap.  It ain't for the faint of heart.  Trust me on that.  I've been there.

Here's where love gets tested.  Was the bond strong?  Was the commitment real?  Are you really a couple till death do you part?  Really?

Love is a strong - a primal -- urge that goes beyond sex.  Love is sharing with another as with no other.  Love is saying you will stick with this other person through "thick and thin" and will try to make the union last.  If something happens that breaks the bond, and if it's your fault, you have to do all you can to mend it.  And I mean all.  That's love.  The primal fear is that you may lose that special someone you married.

But even if all fails and you separate from that husband or wife you were once in love with, it's hard to undo the love you once shared.  It changed you, way down deep.  For the first time, you actually valued another human as you valued yourself.  Whoa!  That's heavy.  I think that's why people who divorce often can't let go, emotionally, of their discarded partners.  Something happened there that can't be discounted.  Second husbands and wives need to know that and deal with it.  Up to a point.  A second love, it it's real, doesn't cancel the first one but mutes it.

All that said, I say again that love can happen any time, anywhere.  We can be free or not free and romantic love the furthest thing from our minds when suddenly it's right there in our faces.  The initial attraction is kind of immediate, but the process is slower so you have plenty of time to think about it.  If you're married at the time to someone you're no longer in love with, be careful.  If you're married to someone you still love, be extra careful.  But if  you're single and looking for love, go for it!  What the hell?

If circumstances permit, give love a chance.  It's strong medicine for what may ail us.  But remember that it is addictive and can't be undone once it takes effect,  If you're not up for the risk, avoid it. It can sting. But if you're game, I say why not?

Good luck!

I like ketchup.

I know this is sacrilege among those among us who fancy ourselves cooks/chefs. When I was in Paris once upon a time, a long time ago, they offered ketchup in small servings which they called "American sauce."

Ouch! Yes, it was a slam against American tastes, but that's what the French are all about, no?

Ketchup, also sometimes called catsup, has been around for a long time. I'm not energetic enough to look into its origins, or the origins of its name, but I suspect it may have started with the Heinz company in this country a long time ago.  I don't know for sure, so don't hold me to it.

What is ketchup?

It's a tomato-based sauce that has a zing that comes from vinegar and sugar and tomato and salt in a certain blend that makes it perfect for dipping our french fries into, and that lends a little something extra to burgers or hot dogs.

Not sure about you, but I always have a bottle in the pantry or, if opened, in the fridge.

Here's what a Heinz bottle says it contains: tomato concentrate from red ripe tomatoes, distilled vinegar, high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, salt, spice, onion powder, natural flavoring.

I ran the same label test on a can of tomato sauce from a big grocery chain, and here's what it says: tomato concentrate, tomato paste, water, dehydrated onions, dehydrated garlic, spices, natural flavorings, sweet bell pepper.

One more trial: Chili Sauce. Tomato puree (tomato paste, water, high fructose corn syrup, vinegar, salt, corn syrup, dried onions, spice, natural flavors.)

So what are we to make of all that?

It seems to me that the different blendings of pretty much the same ingredients comes down to the recipe. Heinz -- or whoever -- figured out, early on, how to put together all the same things -- the tomato concentrate, the salt, the spices, the whatever -- and came up with what we call ketchup.

Voila!

In the end, it doesn't matter who invented it, as ketchup is a staple in any kitchen in America. How could you serve those oven-ready tater tots without ketchup? How you order fries -- what the French call pomme frites -- without it? How could you serve burgers without a bottle of ketchup standing by?

The world of cooking is full of wonderful sauces -- a la the French and many other countries/cuisines --but most have to be cooked by chefs who know what they're doing. Only a few -- mayonnaise and mustards and, yes, ketchup -- come bottled and ready to buy at the supermarket.

When it comes to ketchup, I say go with the cheapest, since they all contain pretty much the same ingredients. With mayo, it varies, as some are richer in taste than others (and cost more); I would say go with the safflower brands, but that's a personal preference. Mustards? I'm at a loss, as I'm not a big mustard fan. You might want to have a squeeze bottle of the yellow store brand on hand and also a Dijon, but beyond that I'm not help. As with wine, go with your taste, not the price tag.

When you think of ketchup, think tart and tomato and sweet. No tomato sauce or paste comes close. Those are for basic cooking, but ketchup is more for adding later as a condiment, although I've found that it works well in stews and soups.  Add it late in the cooking, for a little extra zest.

In the end, don't look down on ketchup, as the French and lots of my snooty chef-wanna-be friends do.  It has a place in your pantry and in your kitchen and in your mouth, where it compliments lots of dishes well.

Can you imagine eating fried shrimp without what is called seafood sauce?  Ketchup is its base.  (Plus some horseradish and whatever else.)  Ever had good meatballs as a cheap hors-d'ouvre?  Likely the sauce started with ketchup -- or chili sauce, a variation.  

Voila ketchup! The Great American Sauce!

Pass the french fries, okay? I've got the munchies.

Grandparents are a second opinion.

We all have parents. It's a given. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here. Some do a good job of raising us, some less so. But they are there, regardless, to be dealt with or not, as we choose while growing up and trying to figure out who we are and how to be adults ourselves.

The problem, if it's a problem, comes when we have kids of our own. Lord knows the arrival of a child in our previously me/us-centric lives complicates things. Immeasurably. Permanently. A whole new person to accommodate and -- gasp! -- to teach all the the things we have learned and should have learned.

As a new dad, I was absolutely un-prepared. My father, and his and all fathers before him, never changed diapers or had wives who wanted careers of their own and expected the men to do their share of kid duty. It was a true learning experience. But, like lots of new dads, I soon found that I kind of liked looking at that new person who sucked so enthusiastically at a bottle and looked up at me from time to time with what I thought was real recognition. "Da da" I used to coo to my babies. "Da Da." I'm not not sure that any of them used it as their first word, but I tried.

But with every new birth comes the complications, in this case the roles of grandparents, our own parents now once-removed from the process and ready to offer advice. How could they not? After all, they had us and raised us, and here we are, new parents! Advice is needed, no?

In my reading of the advice columns -- yes, you read them, too -- lots of the complaints are about grandparents who want to intrude themselves into your lives and the life of the new person, who, after all, is a blood descendant. And besides, they've lived a lot longer and have learned a thing or two about raising kids -- both good and bad -- and really just want to make your experience as new parents that much easier. What's wrong with that?

Of course what's wrong is that new parents with a new baby are sort of in a cocoon: for the first time a real family unit. You and me and baby makes three. Probably no time in any marriage are you and your spouse closer than when you're both playing with and marveling at that most amazing of human endeavors: a baby. A new person. In your house. In your lives. Whoa!

But you have to back up and realize that your parents' parents, the grandparents, are marveling, too. That little baby they brought into the world -- you -- has grown up to have babies of his/her own. And this time they don't have to change the diapers and get up in the middle of the night. They can be consultants. (And everyone knows that's the best job you can have! )

It may be that your parents weren't all that effective as parents and you hesitate to welcome them into your new family circle. Or maybe they were, but you still would rather raise this new child the way you want, without interference. (If they were awful and abused you, of course you can exclude them or at least try to, but usually that's not the case.) It's up to you, as care-takers for this next-generation person, to decide what rules to set down, what practices to follow, etc. As the official bosses, you get to raise your child as you see fit.

But don't be too quick to dismiss the advice of grandparents. They really have lived longer than you and maybe have learned something. And they did give birth to you and saw you through to this important point in your life. Hey, you survived, so they must have done something right, no?

They, the grandparents, should be not the first source you turn to in trying to rear your kid to be a responsible adult but may well be a reliable second opinion.

Be thankful if you have any.

I grew up without grandparents. They were all gone before I was born, except for one grandmother, who died when I was thirteen. When my parents did something I thought stupid or selfish or short-sighted, I had no one to go to for a second opinion. How good it would have felt if I'd been able to go to grandma's and grandpa's house and hear them tell me how my own parents had made stupid mistakes, too, but had come through it and had sired such a fine boy as me. They would have taken my side -- I wasn't a delinquent, just a confused teen -- but also told me to bear with my parents and give them another chance.

And they would have introduced me to all the things they loved in life that maybe my parents didn't appreciate or didn't even know about -- or had rejected when they were young. Camping and fishing or cooking or art or astronomy or whatever. The old ones among us -- the grandparents, the ancient ones, the tribal elders -- know things that our moms and dads don't.

And they have the real advantage of having run the race and are now comfortable just sitting back and doing whatever they want (if they've saved their money and invested wisely), and can think about gardening and maybe writing their memoirs, and, of course, advice. Whatever our parents are going through the grandparents have already gone through. They can advise us on what they did right and what they regret and wish they could do over. Mom and Dad can't give us that kind of perspective, as they're still living their lives, making new mistakes. Every day.

That said, parents have the main say-so about how we, as kids, are brought up. In some families, grandparents -- especially if they're rich -- are in charge, but for most of us, they are second opinions. If Mom says not to date that boy because he doesn't have a job but you're in love with him, go to Grandma, who may well tell you how your mother almost made the same mistake years before over a similarly-unemployed handsome young man. If Dad says you need to give up your dreams of writing movies and get a real job, ask Grandpa, who might tell you how he has a couple of film scripts in a file somewhere that he wishes he'd tried harder to sell.

Size up your Grandma and Grandpa, and be honest. Are they trustworthy? Are they still all together? Do they own a house? Do you like being with them? If, in the end, you think that, despite their wrinkles and slow movements, they're pretty smart -- which they probably are -- go to them when your parents seem unreasonable, which they will often seem to be.

Trust your parents first, but don't forget their parents. Just don't try to pit one against the other, as you'll surely lose in the end. Always remember that your parents get the first shot at advising you. Grandparents are the back-up. I think all smart grandmas and grandpas understand that. And they love the role.

And they love you!

Learning another language is hard.

I remember taking Spanish in high school and enjoying mastering just a bit of it, like knowing how to say please or thanks and even learning how to ask where the bathroom might be in Puerto Rico. I didn't continue with my Spanish later so that nowadays I would probably end up peeing some place I shouldn't if I visited, say, Mexico City. And might be arrested as a result!

Same thing in college, where I actually had a second minor in French, having had twenty hours of not just the intro course but the conversational course and a couple of French Lit. courses. To this day, I don't know how to ask for a croissant in Paris. I didn't use it and so lost it. Alas.

We Americans like to think that the rest of the world speaks English and that, no matter where we go, someone will know our language and direct us to a potty or a restaurant or wherever. We just assume that English is the default tongue. Well, maybe. In lots of the countries we might visit, that's probably true, and we're lucky that way. Of course our American dollars make that sort of translation possible. Take out your wallet and you'll find someone who speaks English.

But what about those people who visit us in the U.S., who have to master our language? There are guidebooks and English-to-whatever dictionaries, but those only provide the rudiments. If you are from Saudi Arabia or Venezuela or Viet Nam, and you need to ask for directions to a store that sells something you're used to buying in your native country, you're pretty much at a loss. How do you say, for instance, that you'd like to purchase pickled eel? We don't sell that in America except in specialized markets, and then only in big cities. If you're in Des Moines and want seaweed for your favorite dish, and if you don't speak English, you may end up buying a couple of Big Macs and longing for your home country.

But let's say you somehow manage to find the foods you want to eat and settle in and make a home in America. You're comfortable here -- hey, America is a great country, no? -- but you still have some language problems. Join the club. English is a hard language to learn. Why? Because it's rich, having drawn from so many languages that came before. It's true that if you want to get ahead in this world, you should know English. Sorry about that, but it's true.

Okay, so you've learned the basics, which most immigrants do, but you want to get ahead, and maybe write in English, which lots of people from other countries end up doing, especially those who go into academia -- colleges -- or various professions. You need to really get down with the intricacies of the language. What, for instance, is the difference between "astonished" and "astounded"? What is the difference between or among "confused" and "perplexed" and "baffled"? (Pay attention to "among," as it will come up later.)

Okay, this is a trick question. Why? Because most writers of English, born in the U. S. of A. don't know the difference either. I write a lot and interchange "astonish" and "astound." To me, they mean pretty much the same. I could look them up in the dictionary, but I don't need to. Why not? Because I grew up speaking the language.

How about this? What is the difference between -- or among -- "enlightened" and "informed" and "educated"? You have twenty minutes to write a hundred word essay. Start right now!

Did you get that "among"? It refers to more than two possibilities, as opposed to "between,"

which refers to only two.

Even if you're a native speaker of English, you may have stumbled over some of that nonsense I just wrote, but it's all really true of our language. We call "flammable" and "inflammable" the same: likely to be ignited. We talk about being "in love" and "enamored" and "smitten" as if they were the same, but we know they're not.

What is a foreigner to make of the nuances of English as we speak it in the U.S.A (as opposed to England, where they speak the same language, but only sort of)?

It's amazing to me that some people learn another language well, even fluently. And it's even more amazing that some write novels and plays and poetry in that new tongue. So few of us are adept enough at our own language that we must stand in awe of those who learn another one well enough to write books in it. Whoa!

But do we really need to learn another language? It's admittedly hard, so why do it?

I'm thinking that you would do it if (1) you're interested in other languages, (2) you're from a country that requires you to learn English or another major language, (3) you're fluent in one or more tongues and are trying to learn even more, or (4) you're in a country that doesn't speak the language you grew up with and need to learn the new one.

When I was in Paris years ago, I felt so stupid not knowing the French words for ordering a sandwich at a sidewalk market that I told myself I wouldn't go back there without boning up on my basic French. And I mean it. I felt so awkward just pointing at meats and cheeses. Kind of the way lots of people must feel when they first arrive in America, no?

Learning another language is hard, really hard, and I only recommend it if you plan to stay in another country more than a vacation trip. I could survive in Paris or Saigon or Berlin for a few days depending just on my English, but to stay a year or so I think I would need to try to learn the language. And can you imagine the stupid mistakes I'd make? I'm pretty smart but would come across, to the natives speaking and understanding their own complicated language, like a doofus. "Did you hear how he said that?" "Did he really just ask me for my sister's dog?"

On the other hand, it's never a mistake to learn just the key words of another language. Would you really want to travel to Turkey without knowing how to say "please" or "thank you"? Or "Please don't disturb me because I want to sleep in"? Or "Can you get me a taxi?" Thanks!

We Americans are lucky in that our version of English is spoken in most parts of the world. But we should be sensitive to the fact that lots of people coming here to visit or even to live have to deal with the oddities of our language and make allowances for it. After all, how would/could we ever learn their language? We couldn't and wouldn't. So if they don't know immediately the difference between being "bummed" and "disillusioned," maybe it's because we don't either.

When it comes to learning a new language, I say cut everyone some slack. (And how does that translate into Hindi?)

We all like gossip.

As humans, we all like to know what our fellow humans are up to. Hey, it's who we are, no? We know ourselves, sort of, but we know very little about how anybody else is dealing with the same kinds of problems. Or problems we haven't had (yet). And we're curious.

How, for instance, is so-and-so down the street coping with her divorce? And how is so-and-so dealing with the foreclosure on her house? Ouch! What about Mrs. Whatever's kid who got involved in drugs and had to go to rehab? And what about that hit-and-run that happened not so far away and that we all know who probably was responsible for?

Gossip is the word of mouth transference of information about other people and is important to all of us. But we need to be sure it's accurate. When we hear something about someone, we need to fact-check. Is this for real? Some gossip is, some isn't. (Some is malicious, but we know that when we hear it and dismiss it, right?)

But, real or not, factual or not, gossip is a fundamental of human interaction and will always be.

Who said what about who?

It's a basis of all our human interactions and the stuff of literature. We humans are interested in all kinds of scientific things -- the stars, the planets, gravity, global warming, etc. -- but what we're most interested in is each other. Why did whoever marry that guy? Is so and so really still with that trashy girl? Was his death really a suicide?

We are fascinated with everything natural and even super-natural -- religion, for instance -- but we're most interested in, obsessed with, each other.

Why else do we read the newspaper columnists who advise us on our human foibles, who tell us to respect each other and hold each other to account, but who publish letters from people who are clueless about how to interact with each other? Because we can't get enough of each other.

We live our lives the best we can but are intrigued by how others live theirs: Are they doing it better? Coping better? Raising their kids better? Maintaining relationships better? How?

Being not privy to our friends' lives, except from what they tell us, we have to guess, and that, of course, leads us to talk about each other. To, well, guess. Is she really happy with him? What about the kids? Is that one really his? The guessing goes on an on, getting far-fetched at times,
but it's what we do, absent the facts. We really want to know how other humans are living their lives, if just so we can modify ours to either emulate theirs or not depending on whether they were happy or crashed and burned.

In the end, gossip is a conduit of information, passed person to person, about how others are coping with their lives. It can be good or bad, but it is what it is. We're all kind of in the dark about what to do in this life, so we keep tabs on others who may or may not be doing it better. If a Hollywood star screws up, maybe we feel good because we haven't (yet). But if someone does something admirable, we need to know about that, too. Gossip isn't just saying something bad about another person; at its best it's passing along information, the best that we know it from second or third hand, not to hurt anyone else but to keep ourselves informed.

Cher turned my age this year, and while I love her old songs -- especially "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" -- I know for a fact that she's had work done. Hello? How else could she look like that? And I say, "You go, girl!" What do YOU think?

Gossip. It's what you make of it.

And did you hear . . . ?

Order from catalogues but be careful.

Being a guy, I don't like spending lots of time in stores, wandering the aisles, trying to decide whether this or that looks good on me or what to buy for someone. I want to get in and out as quickly as possible.

The catalogue people know this and advertise to me. Once I ordered something from one of them and, soon after, my mailbox was stuffed with all these glossy magazines -- that's what they are -- showing me any number of things that a man might buy without going into a store.


Voila! An easy way to shop for the woman in my life -- and maybe me, too. What could be better or easier?

And everything looks great. The people who put out these catalogs know how to photograph their products in the right light to make you want to buy them. But, as tempting as it is to just mail in an order for this or that, be careful.

Take a deep breath. Consider what you're doing.


Do you really want/need what you're considering ordering? Does anyone else? Garages and junk rooms are full of stuff that looked good on the page.

Will your spouse or significant other appreciate, or even approve of, what you're buying for him or for her? Or for yourself?


And do you know all the policies of the catalog you're thinking of ordering from? No, of course you don't. It's in the small print, which no one ever reads.


For instance, do you understand shipping and handling charges? Neither do I (or anyone else). The shipping charge -- what it costs to send the item to me -- seems reasonable if it's what FedEx or UPS or the P.O. really charges. After all, I'm saving myself a trip to the mall, and that's worth a few bucks.

But that charge is usually linked with what's called "Handling" so you have not just a "Shipping" charge but a "Handling and Shipping"charge. And it's not based on weight, which makes some sense, but on the price of what you ordered. Like it costs more to "handle" an expensive item than a cheaper one? Are they more careful in handling my vase than my book? Or vice versa if the book costs more. How do they figure that charge?

That very real complaint aside, if you're too busy to shop and are willing to pay the "handling" charge as well as the shipping charge, then by all means go ahead and order. I do it myself. There are things for sale in catalogues that you won't find anywhere else. Certain cured and smoked meats from a famous barbeque place or fruitcakes from a a very old bakery in Cosicana, Texas. Throwing knives? I've never thrown a knife, but I'm interested. And at only about twenty bucks for a set (plus shipping and handling). Sure, why not?


Seen any throwing knives at Target lately? Or the mall? (Maybe, if they have a knife shop.)


Just know what you're paying and don't gripe about it later.

Also check the catalog's returns policy. Some will accept anything back with no fuss. Others delay paying you or, in one case I recently encountered, write to you saying that if you want a cash refund, it will take a long time, but if you accept catalog coupons instead of real money, it can be done right away. In short, be sure before you order that you know what happens if you don't like what you get. Remember that you can just walk an item back into a Target store and get a no-questions refund.

Again, assuming you decide to order something from a catalog -- as I have often, with mixed results -- be careful about what you order. It's always risky ordering clothes by mail, especially if you're a woman who knows how sizes mean next to nothing. I would recommend ordering shawls and wraps and maybe one-size-fits-all items, like wading boots, but nothing that depends on trying something on. If it doesn't fit, you may be liable for the return postage.

There are all kinds of practical things that can be ordered from catalogs -- tools and books and automotive aids, etc. -- but be sure they aren't also found in nearby big box stores, and cheaper. If you live in a remote area of the world, with no access to Home Depot or Best Buy, then catalogs are your salvation -- and damn the S&H costs! Otherwise, check around first.

I think catalogs are best when, like the old Sears Christmas version, they are wish lists. Stuff we'd like to have but can't afford . . . or can we? Stuff we think our loved ones would like and that we know we can't get for them at the mall. The magic of catalogs is stimulating our imaginations and also letting us shop virtually from the comfort of a good chair or even our bed.

If you decide to order from catalogues, here are some basic guidelines:

1. Is what you order what you're going to get? Remember that a good photographer can make a piece of crap look really good. I've ordered things that ended up smaller or less attractive than they appeared on the page, or were made of inferior materials.

2. Don't order clothes that you can't try on unless you have an iron-clad guarantee that you can return them at no charge to you. Otherwise, why not just go to the mall and save yourself the shipping and handling fee? If it's something you can't get anywhere else, and you're willing to pay the price, then go for it. Otherwise, shop around.

3. Pay attention to shipping/handling charges. Shipping should be what it costs to mail it to you, but what exactly is "handling"? Did I pay extra for someone to put my order into a box to send to me? Isn't that what they're paid to do? And why does that charge go up with the price I'm paying? Shouldn't it increase only as the weight of my order increases? Read the fine print.


4. Do you really need/want that item? Or are you -- like me -- just kind of lured into buying it because it looks good? For instance, I was tempted to buy a glass sculpture of a sting ray that I could put on a coffee table for only about fifty bucks, but then I thought about how many artsy things I already have and no place to put them. I could use that money to pay for some gas.

5. Is this something you're buying as a gift? Be sure someone really wants it before you plunk down big bucks for the shipping and handling. Could you buy the same thing cheaper in your own town at some downtown store? Is it unique? Never seen it anywhere else? if so, buy it.


6. Be sure you understand the returns policy. Can you return an item without paying a lot more for that privilege? Are you offered a gift certificate to that catalog instead of a refund? Read the fine print before you order.


7. Is this something you can't get anywhere else? I think this is a good reason to shop by catalogue. If you're into fishing or outdoor stuff or even -- what? -- knitting or ceramics, or if you live in a place where you can't find any of the stuff you need, then by all means order from the catalogues. Some of us find ourselves in isolated outposts with no where else to shop, no?

8. If you're a guy, consider catalogues. Guys don't like to shop but like to spend money, especially on themselves. There are catalogues galore that appeal to us. Hunting and fishing and even throwing knives and guns. Camping stuff you wouldn't believe! If you're willing to pay a little or a lot extra for not having to go to a store, there are catalogues that will keep you reading well into the night.

9. If you're a woman, most of the catalogues are directed at you. Lots of clothes -- some that are gorgeous and would look good on you -- as well as beautiful art objects you can imagine putting on your mantel. But, again, beware of clothes listed in sizes that may or may not be accurate. And check the size of that cut-glass owl for your mantel, as it may be smaller than it looked on page 34. And -- not to whip further a dead horse -- remember that you may have to pay to return it.

10. Only order from a catalogue if (1) you can't get it somewhere else, and cheaper, (2) you don't want to shop in your hometown , (3) you don't care if it costs extra , and (4) you want to get lots more catalogues in the mail because once you order something, they'll be filling your mailbox for a long time to come. (And hey, I don't mind that. I like looking through them, and if I don't want anything, I just re-cycle them.)


In the end, know that catalogs -- or catalogues, the old spelling that I prefer-- do offer you some things that you can't get anywhere else, and it may be worth paying all the extra charges to get what you want. Not to mention that it's kind of a kick to have a package show up on your doorstep from time to time, unexpectedly, and to open it and find something very cool.

Just know what you're ordering and what it will cost.


I still think I should have bought that blown-glass stingray. Damn!


Happy shopping!