It still surprises me how many of the people I suggest go gluten-free come back with the question "does that mean I can't drink beer?" It's probably second only to "but what will eat instead of BREAD?"
Luckily, it's a good time to be gluten-free. It is, after all, what all the cool kids are doing, so more and more replacement foods are being made available. And more and more breweries are doing their damnedest to make gluten-free beer.
Today we celebrated a Day of Debauchery and Gluttony, in response to our governor's ill-advised mixing of politics with religion, aka The Response, a day of fasting and prayer. We had a lovely, extravagant dinner, and then I indulged in a tasting of THREE gluten-free beers. Tee hee. I hope to get this all typed before I get too silly.
I realize now that perhaps a few photos would have really jazzed this up. Darn.
Anyway, thanks to my husband, it was a blind tasting (he wrote down which beer glass was on which coaster) so I could feel all scientific and such. My tasting terms leave a lot to be desired, but... I am who I am. And who I am is a laid-back beer lover who uses fancy words like "yum" and "tastes like beer." The latter is high praise for a gluten-free offering.
The line-up: New Grist, New Planet Tread Lightly Ale, and Bard's.
New Grist is growing in popularity, but not yet available here in Texas. I have to have family and friends bootleg it to me from Kansas whenever they pass through. It was the palest of the three, a lovely straw yellow, but had surprising caramel notes on the first few tastes. Very fizzy, after it warmed up just a bit I noticed a slight tartness, and then a very noticeable wine-like flavor. Not really high praise for a beer, but drinkable, and so much better than the widely-available Redbridge swill, that it was my 2nd favorite of the evening.
New Planet's Tread Lightly Ale was next, a shade darker than the New Grist. Let me just mention that New Planet has several gluten-free offerings, one of which has given me a new reason to live- Off Grid Pale Ale. But, that was not in the tasting tonight because, despite it's name, it is not "pale." I wanted to taste beers that were somewhat similar. The Tread Lightly had slight citrus, was sweet, and grew even sweeter with successive tastes. It had a lingering aftertaste that I can't say I really enjoyed. I wrote down that it tasted a touch like beery sweet tea. It got my lowest ranking. If I could have given it something lower than 3rd place, I probably would have. Still better than Redbridge. Then again, water is better than Redbridge.
I saved the darkest beer for last, assuming it might have a stronger flavor. And it kind of did. The Bard's had a slight flavor of char, which is a good thing in my book. I love grilled food, love the smell of woodsmoke and food grilling, and would burn cigars as incense if the stupid things would stay lit. Char goes a long way with me. It seemed to have a bit less complex flavor than the New Grist, but I still chose it as my favorite. The slightly darker taste makes it suit a wider variety of occasions. Since my favorite regular beer of all time is Guinness Extra Stout, and I particularly crave such in the depths of winter, I like a beer that might be able to stand in it's place. Bard's is nowhere near Guinness, but... of the three I tasted tonight, it's the closest.
Lucky for me, it's also the only one of the three that I can actually get my paws on here in Texas. Knowing that- that I blindly picked the one I can actually get- is priceless. Oh, and my gluten-vore husband declared the Bard's to be "the beeriest" of the three. High praise, indeed.
I love beer. I miss real beer. Every now and then I go crazy and have one and pay for it with aching joints for the next three days. I'm learning to love my gluten-free options and yearning for the day when I have the free time to tinker with some recipes on my own.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
I see stupid people.
I hope to blog more in 2011. I'll begin with a rant. (Please don't hurt yourselves as you climb back into your chairs after falling over in shock. You can't sue me for any damages caused by spitting coffee on your laptop, either.)
I hate ads.
Y'all might have noticed this.
Well, I don't hate all ads. I just... hate being manipulated. I hate being told what to feel and when to feel it. I hate the entire sheeple/herd mentality thang. Each month of the year seems to have it's own official, Buy-N-Large-sanctioned attitudes and goals. In case we don't catch on from TV ads, the coupon section of the paper lets us know what we ought to be eating, washing ourselves with, and longing for.
And I hate that. I'm a rebel at heart. I live with my low-level irritation toward advertising, only occasionally bursting forth with growls and epithets when I'm unable to ignore a TV commercial or coupon ad. The Sunday paper coupons are an especially-rich fodder for my rants. So, here goes....
See what's new from Kibbles 'n Bits. "The Bits make it better." This is just so stupid. First of all, the dog is just hungry. And possibly colorblind (I may need to check on that....) The dog would happily eat cat poop. I don't think the dog cares if his kibble has bits! I especially don't think the dog cares if his bits are colorful. And why on earth would the dog want them to be vegetable flavored?! Are we really so crazed with this our-dogs-are-our-babies psychosis that we think they need vegetables? Do wild dingoes feast on peas and carrots? I don't think so. It's just stupid.
"Catch a taste of the big game" says Cheez-It. Hmmm... assuming a game actually has a flavor, I think it would possibly be leather, dirt, grass, even blood. But not cheez. That's just stupid.
"Got a cold? Confused what to get" Robitussin actually paid people to develop a phone app to help people figure out which bottle of medicine to buy. Because, apparently, even after they paid the art department to develop helpful box graphics which clearly state in large, bright letters the symptoms treated by each particular bottle... it wasn't enough. People are slowly loosing their ability to read static print material. If it doesn't come in an app, it's too hard. And, yes, I realize the ad is telling about the app in static print. But fear not, there's a little picture widget thingy that you can take a picture of with your phone, which apparently will magically direct you to the app or website. What the hell? That's just stupid!
And finally... I've saved what I think is the most-idiotic, most-pandering, most-intelligence-insulting piece of marketing drivel for last. "His winning lineup (because it's almost the Super Bowl, so all advertising must be done in game language... how clever and original....) Strength for him, value for you."
Pardon my Valley Girl, but... gag me with a spoon.
I am insulted on so many levels. My feminist side is sputtering. My intelligent side is speechless. My hope-for-humanity side is in the corner, crying.
I took a Women's Studies class way back in college. My term paper was a comparison of the advertising in three different decades of Ladies Home Journal. I recall being jaw-droppingly aghast at the glaring "buy this so you can get married" theme behind all the stuff from the 40s. It got a little better in the 60s. Better still by the 80s. And now we seem to be headed right back in time. I *know* that the average coupon-peruser will skim right past all the sexism and stupidity in this ad line. But somewhere in their subconscious, it will lurk. And the constant barrage of similarly stupid, sexist ads really does add up. It becomes accepted. It becomes the norm. It shapes opinions, just like they want it to. They work really, really hard to direct our behavior, so I would prefer they at least be politically-correct with the brainwashing.
What's so bad about it? First of all, just the absurd notion that a man's choice in shaving razor does ANYthing beyond determining the amount of hair left on his face. Razors cut hair. That's it. They do not give you a better job. They do not give you skinny, busty women who caress your face. They certainly do NOT give you strength. That's just stupid. Secondly, I resent the assumption that only women are looking at the coupons. I hate the entire June Cleaver universe it implies. My life does not revolve around my man or his facial hair or his strength.
Ah, well. I do at least glean a little pleasure from knowing they do NOT have me pegged. That whole rebel thang. I am not skimming through the coupons, in search of value. No. I am looking for something to piss me off, so I can share it with you.
I hate ads.
Y'all might have noticed this.
Well, I don't hate all ads. I just... hate being manipulated. I hate being told what to feel and when to feel it. I hate the entire sheeple/herd mentality thang. Each month of the year seems to have it's own official, Buy-N-Large-sanctioned attitudes and goals. In case we don't catch on from TV ads, the coupon section of the paper lets us know what we ought to be eating, washing ourselves with, and longing for.
And I hate that. I'm a rebel at heart. I live with my low-level irritation toward advertising, only occasionally bursting forth with growls and epithets when I'm unable to ignore a TV commercial or coupon ad. The Sunday paper coupons are an especially-rich fodder for my rants. So, here goes....
See what's new from Kibbles 'n Bits. "The Bits make it better." This is just so stupid. First of all, the dog is just hungry. And possibly colorblind (I may need to check on that....) The dog would happily eat cat poop. I don't think the dog cares if his kibble has bits! I especially don't think the dog cares if his bits are colorful. And why on earth would the dog want them to be vegetable flavored?! Are we really so crazed with this our-dogs-are-our-babies psychosis that we think they need vegetables? Do wild dingoes feast on peas and carrots? I don't think so. It's just stupid.
"Catch a taste of the big game" says Cheez-It. Hmmm... assuming a game actually has a flavor, I think it would possibly be leather, dirt, grass, even blood. But not cheez. That's just stupid.
"Got a cold? Confused what to get" Robitussin actually paid people to develop a phone app to help people figure out which bottle of medicine to buy. Because, apparently, even after they paid the art department to develop helpful box graphics which clearly state in large, bright letters the symptoms treated by each particular bottle... it wasn't enough. People are slowly loosing their ability to read static print material. If it doesn't come in an app, it's too hard. And, yes, I realize the ad is telling about the app in static print. But fear not, there's a little picture widget thingy that you can take a picture of with your phone, which apparently will magically direct you to the app or website. What the hell? That's just stupid!
And finally... I've saved what I think is the most-idiotic, most-pandering, most-intelligence-insulting piece of marketing drivel for last. "His winning lineup (because it's almost the Super Bowl, so all advertising must be done in game language... how clever and original....) Strength for him, value for you."
Pardon my Valley Girl, but... gag me with a spoon.
I am insulted on so many levels. My feminist side is sputtering. My intelligent side is speechless. My hope-for-humanity side is in the corner, crying.
I took a Women's Studies class way back in college. My term paper was a comparison of the advertising in three different decades of Ladies Home Journal. I recall being jaw-droppingly aghast at the glaring "buy this so you can get married" theme behind all the stuff from the 40s. It got a little better in the 60s. Better still by the 80s. And now we seem to be headed right back in time. I *know* that the average coupon-peruser will skim right past all the sexism and stupidity in this ad line. But somewhere in their subconscious, it will lurk. And the constant barrage of similarly stupid, sexist ads really does add up. It becomes accepted. It becomes the norm. It shapes opinions, just like they want it to. They work really, really hard to direct our behavior, so I would prefer they at least be politically-correct with the brainwashing.
What's so bad about it? First of all, just the absurd notion that a man's choice in shaving razor does ANYthing beyond determining the amount of hair left on his face. Razors cut hair. That's it. They do not give you a better job. They do not give you skinny, busty women who caress your face. They certainly do NOT give you strength. That's just stupid. Secondly, I resent the assumption that only women are looking at the coupons. I hate the entire June Cleaver universe it implies. My life does not revolve around my man or his facial hair or his strength.
Ah, well. I do at least glean a little pleasure from knowing they do NOT have me pegged. That whole rebel thang. I am not skimming through the coupons, in search of value. No. I am looking for something to piss me off, so I can share it with you.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Coupon RANT!
Blshvrddtygrrrddle.
I know it's not a word, but at least it's not profanity.
I actually got goosebumps and dizziness from my outrage this morning. That's a first for me. Wish I had gotten a picture of my arms, to prove it.
Anyway, there I was, on the last page of the last coupon insert from the Sunday paper. I had slogged through, as usual, no longer expecting more than irritation from the usual crappy coupons for phood.
And there it was.
I have never been a fan of Easy Bake Ovens. I was a big ol' meany and didn't let my son have one during his excitement for all things cooking. Their mixes were crap and I didn't want him to think that adding water = cooking. But, now I see, at least it was an oven.
2010 is here, baby, and that means advancements, progress, moving forward. How shall we teach our younglings? Easy Bake Microwave & Style Kit. Because, microwaves are where it's at, and the focus really should be on the brightly-colored sugar on top, not the spongy cake-like transport.
Ugh.
Microwaves suck. They damage the proteins of food so much that the body can barely recognize them as sustenance. I don't use ours. My husband does, occasionally. Microwaves are fast, I'll grant them that, but I don't think we need to be that ADD about our food. PLAN AHEAD. Know that you will likely be hungry 5 times a day, at predictable times. Have stuff on hand. Start cooking BEFORE you're dizzy and weak.
If you want a brightly-colored pancreas-bomb, bake one. It really, swear-to-god, doesn't take that long. Especially if you make tiny ones. There are plenty of silicone bake sets for teeny little cakes. Mixing, from scratch, takes 15 minutes, tops. The oven can preheat while you're at it. Baking bite-size cakelets would take about 15-20 more minutes. Clean up the kitchen and make frosting (it's seriously just butter + sugar... it's a no-brainer.)
They won't be health food, but they will fall into the category of food with an "f." Which is a vast improvement these days. Unfortunately.
I know it's not a word, but at least it's not profanity.
I actually got goosebumps and dizziness from my outrage this morning. That's a first for me. Wish I had gotten a picture of my arms, to prove it.
Anyway, there I was, on the last page of the last coupon insert from the Sunday paper. I had slogged through, as usual, no longer expecting more than irritation from the usual crappy coupons for phood.
And there it was.
I have never been a fan of Easy Bake Ovens. I was a big ol' meany and didn't let my son have one during his excitement for all things cooking. Their mixes were crap and I didn't want him to think that adding water = cooking. But, now I see, at least it was an oven.
2010 is here, baby, and that means advancements, progress, moving forward. How shall we teach our younglings? Easy Bake Microwave & Style Kit. Because, microwaves are where it's at, and the focus really should be on the brightly-colored sugar on top, not the spongy cake-like transport.
Ugh.
Microwaves suck. They damage the proteins of food so much that the body can barely recognize them as sustenance. I don't use ours. My husband does, occasionally. Microwaves are fast, I'll grant them that, but I don't think we need to be that ADD about our food. PLAN AHEAD. Know that you will likely be hungry 5 times a day, at predictable times. Have stuff on hand. Start cooking BEFORE you're dizzy and weak.
If you want a brightly-colored pancreas-bomb, bake one. It really, swear-to-god, doesn't take that long. Especially if you make tiny ones. There are plenty of silicone bake sets for teeny little cakes. Mixing, from scratch, takes 15 minutes, tops. The oven can preheat while you're at it. Baking bite-size cakelets would take about 15-20 more minutes. Clean up the kitchen and make frosting (it's seriously just butter + sugar... it's a no-brainer.)
They won't be health food, but they will fall into the category of food with an "f." Which is a vast improvement these days. Unfortunately.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
I. Can't. Eat. Butter.
My long-time readers may need to sit down for this. You all situated? Comfy? Ok...
I have been butter-free for two weeks.
Jack (9 months old) is feeling better.
I no longer feel that familiar brain-fog/exhaustion after breakfast. (Seems *I* only react to breakfast butter... other-times-of-day butter don't make me feel like someone slipped me cheese.) But Baby Jack seems gets Green Acid Poo Of Doom from any-time-of-day butter.
In Food Allergy World, these items of note combine to create a diagnosis of You Can't Eat Butter Anymore.
I have very strong feelings about this. I worship at the altar of Mother Butter and Father Bacon. Now my goddess is dead (blasphemy!) I worry because now I'm using more coconut oil than I was before... still have to get my fats, you know... and I'm allergic to coconut protein. Perchance the coconut oil is more pure than the butter? Still no idea whether ghee is ok... haven't acquired a taste for it, so I haven't used it enough to know. I'll get on that eventually.
Eggs were back on my menu and then gone again. I find myself needing to google "vegan" recipes. I swear to add meat to every single one of them!
In other news, I swear I'll be revamping this poor redheaded step-child of a blog. Soon. My version of "soon" means, well, hopefully before the end of 2010, but don't put money on it. I see that I have a whopping 9 faithful followers, so I'm excited to make this thing pretty and easier to use. I envision a fancy bloggiful launch, complete with merchandise.
I miss you, Butter. But I know you shall not remain dead to me forever. I still swear undying loyalty, and my lips shall touch not the cursed margarine! (Because, really, what could they possibly make it out of that I'm not allergic to?!)
I have been butter-free for two weeks.
Jack (9 months old) is feeling better.
I no longer feel that familiar brain-fog/exhaustion after breakfast. (Seems *I* only react to breakfast butter... other-times-of-day butter don't make me feel like someone slipped me cheese.) But Baby Jack seems gets Green Acid Poo Of Doom from any-time-of-day butter.
In Food Allergy World, these items of note combine to create a diagnosis of You Can't Eat Butter Anymore.
I have very strong feelings about this. I worship at the altar of Mother Butter and Father Bacon. Now my goddess is dead (blasphemy!) I worry because now I'm using more coconut oil than I was before... still have to get my fats, you know... and I'm allergic to coconut protein. Perchance the coconut oil is more pure than the butter? Still no idea whether ghee is ok... haven't acquired a taste for it, so I haven't used it enough to know. I'll get on that eventually.
Eggs were back on my menu and then gone again. I find myself needing to google "vegan" recipes.
In other news, I swear I'll be revamping this poor redheaded step-child of a blog. Soon. My version of "soon" means, well, hopefully before the end of 2010, but don't put money on it. I see that I have a whopping 9 faithful followers, so I'm excited to make this thing pretty and easier to use. I envision a fancy bloggiful launch, complete with merchandise.
I miss you, Butter. But I know you shall not remain dead to me forever. I still swear undying loyalty, and my lips shall touch not the cursed margarine! (Because, really, what could they possibly make it out of that I'm not allergic to?!)
Sunday, February 7, 2010
First (Annual?) Superbowl Wing-Off!
I realize that it's cliche to eat Buffalo wings for the Superbowl, but... well... we can't always be original. Besides, the Fairy Child recently discovered that chicken is edible when smothered in spicy sauce. She hadn't eaten chicken for 10 years until that lucky discovery, so Buffalo wings have been on the menu every few weeks this football season. Getting protein into the Fairy Child is important.In a moment of sheer... er... genius (yeah, we'll call it that) I decided to challenge the Fairy Child to a wing-off. I'm not generally prone to such measures, but it struck me as a fun idea, and before I had the chance to ponder the implications of a pile of spicy wings on breastmilk for a newborn... the plan was made. So, here we go.
What: 1st ever family wing-eating challenge, a.k.a. "wing-off."
Who: Fairy Child, "The Bottomless Pit" vs. "Butter My Bacon" Bekki
Where: our kitchen table, South Texas
Why: I tend to run off at the mouth sometimes...
Now, to make the wings... I no longer have a deep fryer. I received one, from my mother-in-law, about 6 or 7 years ago. It moved with us, to three states, in many Army moves, never yet used. I had planned to use it a few times, and was always daunted by the idea of all that hot oil and the responsibility therein. So it was left untouched. And apparently, insulted. When I finally tried to use it a year or so ago, it was mysteriously dead with no signs of foul play.
So... baked wings it is. 375 degrees, for about 50-60 minutes. I like to season my wings with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika. Paprika makes pretty much everything taste better. I tried shaking the wings with seasoned cornstarch once, hoping it'd make a crispier skin. It did not. So now I'm quite lazy about it, and simply season them on the cooking pan. When done, I toss them with wing sauce. Since I love to cook, do I make my own special top-secret-recipe wing sauce? No. No, I do not. I tried that twice and they were awful. I love Buffalo Wild Wings' sauces- the Spicy Garlic and the Medium are both quite tasty. Neither can be called healthy foods, but I'm not eating them all that often. I also don't seem to react allergically to the yucky soybean oil in them, which is nice.
So, all coated up in spicy soy... the wing-off begins. 6 wings apiece, the rest stay in a low oven to stay warm. Bang a gong, it is ON! Oh... in case anyone wants to know who my challenger is...
... a hungry, growing 11-year-old girl. Could there be anything more frightening?
The first batch of wings were tossed with Spicy Garlic... and went down very quickly. Although we set it up not as a sprint, but as a marathon. It was to be decided wing-for-wing, not timed. We still ate quickly. They were tasty, and we were excited.
Round 2 was tossed with Medium, which is supposed to be less-spicy than the Spicy Garlic. My competitor and I vehemently disagree. The blisters on my tongue stand as proof.
By the third round our mouths were on fire. I tossed the wings with as little sauce as I could get by with, but it was still too much. Here I show my margin of victory:
Two half-wings. Final count was 18 to 17. I credit my victory simply to the fact that I've had a lot of painful things happen in my life, so I have experience. LOL
Ah, the carnage. So many wings went down in so little time. Now we just have to relax, watch the game, and try to digest. Well... and try not to think about what that spicy sauce will do to us on it's way out....
What: 1st ever family wing-eating challenge, a.k.a. "wing-off."
Who: Fairy Child, "The Bottomless Pit" vs. "Butter My Bacon" Bekki
Where: our kitchen table, South Texas
Why: I tend to run off at the mouth sometimes...
Now, to make the wings... I no longer have a deep fryer. I received one, from my mother-in-law, about 6 or 7 years ago. It moved with us, to three states, in many Army moves, never yet used. I had planned to use it a few times, and was always daunted by the idea of all that hot oil and the responsibility therein. So it was left untouched. And apparently, insulted. When I finally tried to use it a year or so ago, it was mysteriously dead with no signs of foul play.
So... baked wings it is. 375 degrees, for about 50-60 minutes. I like to season my wings with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika. Paprika makes pretty much everything taste better. I tried shaking the wings with seasoned cornstarch once, hoping it'd make a crispier skin. It did not. So now I'm quite lazy about it, and simply season them on the cooking pan. When done, I toss them with wing sauce. Since I love to cook, do I make my own special top-secret-recipe wing sauce? No. No, I do not. I tried that twice and they were awful. I love Buffalo Wild Wings' sauces- the Spicy Garlic and the Medium are both quite tasty. Neither can be called healthy foods, but I'm not eating them all that often. I also don't seem to react allergically to the yucky soybean oil in them, which is nice.
So, all coated up in spicy soy... the wing-off begins. 6 wings apiece, the rest stay in a low oven to stay warm. Bang a gong, it is ON! Oh... in case anyone wants to know who my challenger is...
... a hungry, growing 11-year-old girl. Could there be anything more frightening?The first batch of wings were tossed with Spicy Garlic... and went down very quickly. Although we set it up not as a sprint, but as a marathon. It was to be decided wing-for-wing, not timed. We still ate quickly. They were tasty, and we were excited.
Round 2 was tossed with Medium, which is supposed to be less-spicy than the Spicy Garlic. My competitor and I vehemently disagree. The blisters on my tongue stand as proof.
By the third round our mouths were on fire. I tossed the wings with as little sauce as I could get by with, but it was still too much. Here I show my margin of victory:
Two half-wings. Final count was 18 to 17. I credit my victory simply to the fact that I've had a lot of painful things happen in my life, so I have experience. LOL
Ah, the carnage. So many wings went down in so little time. Now we just have to relax, watch the game, and try to digest. Well... and try not to think about what that spicy sauce will do to us on it's way out....
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Putting kids in a box
Today's rant isn't about food. Sorry. I flipped casually through the coupons this morning and didn't manage to get mad about anything. Perhaps I was distracted. Perhaps the coupons were more boring than normal. I do have a couple of weeks of backlogged rantiness hanging around here, cluttering up the table, but I honestly might never get to it.
Today's rant is about Toys R Us, and their rampant sexism. I had to go shopping today... my first non-doctor-related outing since the baby was born. My older son's birthday is coming up, and I didn't feel like clicking around Amazon. I wanted to see things in person. So there I was, with my list of ideas I'd come up with, plus ideas he'd come up with. And I noticed for the first time that they (the store) had made official something I'd jokingly referred to for years... the "pink aisle" was now truly pink. I had reserved that term for the Barbie aisles, usually, but it could be used to describe any of the very typically-girly zones of the toy department. I have a daughter, but she was rarely interested in the items in the pink aisle. I suppose she played outside the box. When she was three her favorite take-wherever-we're-going items were plastic snakes, Buzz Lightyear, and fuzzy stuffed snakes. No dolls. She eventually went nuts for Polly Pocket and then My Little Ponies, but that was the extent of it.
I said I was shopping today for my son, though. So why was I in a pink aisle? Why did I notice that the end caps of the aisles literally spell it out in painful sexist detail now? ("boys" and "girls" as if the blue and pink weren't enough.)
Because my son wanted a toy coffeemaker for his restaurant. Last year I bought him the un-pinkest play kitchen I could find, because he loves to cook. He prefers real cooking, and would almost certainly prefer a real coffeemaker, but sometimes a mom has to insist on harder-to-break plastic. So I had to shop a pink aisle for him, and hope he doesn't mind a glittery purple coffeemaker. He probably won't. He luckily has no idea whatsoever that he's supposed to like certain things and not others. He has all the "right" boy toys- sturdy metal Tonka truck, balls, Indiana Jones play set, Star Wars blasters, football helmet, and Duplos. But he also has a little shopping bag, play food, his own apron (another thing that was hard to find in not-pink), and this Christmas he asked for and got a Littlest Pet Shop adoption center. It's pink. With frilly bits and flowers. He loves it, no matter what Toys R Us thinks.
How dare they compartmentalize our children? There's already enough societal bias and strong messages about what's "right" to play with, without them being so damn blatant about it. Ads with girls playing with dolls and boys playing with trucks make it very clear what Everyone thinks about things. We don't need to smack our kids in the face with it. My son can read already, and if I took him to Toys R Us, I'm not sure what he'd think about those labels. On the one hand, he's a strongly-opinionated boy, secure in his rightness... so he may just think they're wrong and move on. On the other hand, he very much likes to learn how the world works, what the rules are... so I can easily see him boxing away his own interests just to match what some stupid corporation thinks he should or shouldn't enjoy.
I find it very ironic that cooking is a pink aisle thing, anyway, considering the rampant sexism that still exists in the male-dominated world of professional chefs. Gah!
I'm not sure what to DO about this. If I were a more organized woman, I might try to organize a boycott or some such thing. But I honestly have no idea how long they've had those infuriating labels up. Possibly years. I don't go to Toys R Us much.
I just know that they really pissed me off. How dare they tell my children what to play with? How to correctly have fun? My kids get to be whoever the hell they want to be.
Oh, my daughter was with me today, and nicely asked for a little play set with a horse, some accessories, and a little girl. I was surprised with her choice and tried to talk her out of it... she never picks toys with people in them. She agreed that she usually doesn't, and said her room currently has a "shortage of humans." I laughed at the funny way she'd said it... and then really laughed when my darling daughter further explained why she wanted the little girl in the play set. Food. For the wild creatures the inhabit my daughter's playtime. A feeder human!! So, my girl has finally found a use for little dolls... ha ha ha!
Today's rant is about Toys R Us, and their rampant sexism. I had to go shopping today... my first non-doctor-related outing since the baby was born. My older son's birthday is coming up, and I didn't feel like clicking around Amazon. I wanted to see things in person. So there I was, with my list of ideas I'd come up with, plus ideas he'd come up with. And I noticed for the first time that they (the store) had made official something I'd jokingly referred to for years... the "pink aisle" was now truly pink. I had reserved that term for the Barbie aisles, usually, but it could be used to describe any of the very typically-girly zones of the toy department. I have a daughter, but she was rarely interested in the items in the pink aisle. I suppose she played outside the box. When she was three her favorite take-wherever-we're-going items were plastic snakes, Buzz Lightyear, and fuzzy stuffed snakes. No dolls. She eventually went nuts for Polly Pocket and then My Little Ponies, but that was the extent of it.
I said I was shopping today for my son, though. So why was I in a pink aisle? Why did I notice that the end caps of the aisles literally spell it out in painful sexist detail now? ("boys" and "girls" as if the blue and pink weren't enough.)
Because my son wanted a toy coffeemaker for his restaurant. Last year I bought him the un-pinkest play kitchen I could find, because he loves to cook. He prefers real cooking, and would almost certainly prefer a real coffeemaker, but sometimes a mom has to insist on harder-to-break plastic. So I had to shop a pink aisle for him, and hope he doesn't mind a glittery purple coffeemaker. He probably won't. He luckily has no idea whatsoever that he's supposed to like certain things and not others. He has all the "right" boy toys- sturdy metal Tonka truck, balls, Indiana Jones play set, Star Wars blasters, football helmet, and Duplos. But he also has a little shopping bag, play food, his own apron (another thing that was hard to find in not-pink), and this Christmas he asked for and got a Littlest Pet Shop adoption center. It's pink. With frilly bits and flowers. He loves it, no matter what Toys R Us thinks.
How dare they compartmentalize our children? There's already enough societal bias and strong messages about what's "right" to play with, without them being so damn blatant about it. Ads with girls playing with dolls and boys playing with trucks make it very clear what Everyone thinks about things. We don't need to smack our kids in the face with it. My son can read already, and if I took him to Toys R Us, I'm not sure what he'd think about those labels. On the one hand, he's a strongly-opinionated boy, secure in his rightness... so he may just think they're wrong and move on. On the other hand, he very much likes to learn how the world works, what the rules are... so I can easily see him boxing away his own interests just to match what some stupid corporation thinks he should or shouldn't enjoy.
I find it very ironic that cooking is a pink aisle thing, anyway, considering the rampant sexism that still exists in the male-dominated world of professional chefs. Gah!
I'm not sure what to DO about this. If I were a more organized woman, I might try to organize a boycott or some such thing. But I honestly have no idea how long they've had those infuriating labels up. Possibly years. I don't go to Toys R Us much.
I just know that they really pissed me off. How dare they tell my children what to play with? How to correctly have fun? My kids get to be whoever the hell they want to be.
Oh, my daughter was with me today, and nicely asked for a little play set with a horse, some accessories, and a little girl. I was surprised with her choice and tried to talk her out of it... she never picks toys with people in them. She agreed that she usually doesn't, and said her room currently has a "shortage of humans." I laughed at the funny way she'd said it... and then really laughed when my darling daughter further explained why she wanted the little girl in the play set. Food. For the wild creatures the inhabit my daughter's playtime. A feeder human!! So, my girl has finally found a use for little dolls... ha ha ha!
Monday, January 4, 2010
Pot Roast
I know I didn't post a coupon rant yesterday... believe me, there's a good one in the works, whenever I get the chance to sit, type, and think all at the same time. See... I had a baby on Wednesday, so I'm a bit busy. :-)
I did, however, stubbornly cook dinner tonight. Just couldn't help myself. It wasn't exactly strenuous. I made pot roast, and it smells divine. Stuck some potatoes alongside for a nice slow bake and I'll probably end up delegating the grilling of a couple of cheese sandwiches for the kids, since they tend to think pot roast is TOO tender and therefore poisonous.
And sorry, no pic... the camera is full of baby pictures.
I did, however, stubbornly cook dinner tonight. Just couldn't help myself. It wasn't exactly strenuous. I made pot roast, and it smells divine. Stuck some potatoes alongside for a nice slow bake and I'll probably end up delegating the grilling of a couple of cheese sandwiches for the kids, since they tend to think pot roast is TOO tender and therefore poisonous.
And sorry, no pic... the camera is full of baby pictures.
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About Me
- Bekki
- Tejas, United States
- I am many things... all at the same time. (No wonder I don't get much done!) I am a wife to a retired infantryman, mother of 3, stocker (and stalker) of the fridge, passionate fan of food, nutrition, ecology, coffee, wine, and college football. I love all things witchy and piratey. I often cook with booze. I feed stray cats. I don't believe in sunscreen. I don't like shoes and really hate socks. And I currently can't eat any gluten, dairy, eggs, soy, coconut(!?), or sodium metabisulfite (aw, shucks, no chemical snackies.) Sometimes even citric acid gets me. But only sometimes.
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