Stories

I was going to be one of those mothers who never allowed their children to watch anything on television, aside from the occasional educational program about stars, or baby possums, or how All People Are Good. It was an idyllic, wholesome vision that was completely shattered around the time I discovered that the only way I could take a shower or make a phone call was to put the baby in front of Teletubbies for 15 or 20 minutes.

The shattered bits were ground into a fine powder with the arrival of my stepdaughter, who could, at the age of 7, recite the entire plot of every episode of “Rugrats” with barely a pause for inhalation. We were a TV family. The only saving grace was that Sam really, genuinely hated most little kids’ shows (particularly Barney) and preferred to watch videos in which two dynamic types named Dave and Judy rode helicopters, trains and fire engines. But I digress.

Wi-Fi. Hi-def. Super-sized. 200GB. High protein. Low fat. With every brand getting upgraded to meet today’s newfangled demands, you might think there would be no room in the market for good old-fashioned values. That’s where you’d be mistaken. With so much hubris cluttering the shelves, a little bit of minimalism can offer weary customers a breath of fresh air.

Enter Little Pepi’s, the Hatfield, Pennsylvania-based company whose secret recipe is simplicity. Since 1963, they’ve been following the same ages-old recipe for their waffle cookies, keeping the ingredients as basic as when Italians whipped up the first batch somewhere around 700 B.C. Little has changed since then. Even back in the cookie’s native Abruzzo region of Italy, where they are still enormously popular, pizzelles (the cookies have the same etymological origin as “pizza”; both words mean “round and flat”) are still made from the same basic ingredients: flour, eggs, butter or vegetable oil, sugar, and a special flavoring, such as vanilla — almost the very same ingredients that Little Pepi’s uses in its own pizzelles.

No one ever assumes you eat Brussels sprouts. No one brings you to their living room, presents two plates of Brussels sprouts, and sits grinning, waiting for you to go to town. No one orders a round of Brussels sprouts for the table. No one asks you out with, “let’s get Brussels sprouts.” And no one nods knowingly when you’re a shambles Sunday morning from Brussels sprouts gas.

Now, it happens, I do, in fact, love Brussels sprouts. It also happens that I do not drink alcohol. And yet, everyone I meet makes the assumption that I do, until told otherwise. Drinker until proven abstinent. This bothers me.

I quit drinking in April 2009, because I didn’t like how entwined my dating and drinking lives had become. I decided the only way to fully render them apart would be to quit drinking completely, until I found myself in a relationship, procured sans-drink, at which point I would re-evaluate.

The bad news is I’m still waiting on that relationship.

Despite the anxiety-producing hit that my 401K has taken, I’m quite sure that the current belt-tightening is not bad for me.  I agree with my friend Marc that “it doesn’t debit your happiness to live with less.”  Yet Marc still gets grief from his friend for driving a VW now instead of a BMW, and I recently got grief from my friend for returning a $45 pair of windshield wipers to Pep Boys when I found Consumer Reports “best buy” ones on Amazon for $12.  Only someone wealthy, arrogant and out-of-touch belittles driving a VW or saving $33.  So here are some thoughts for middle-class people like Marc and me about how to live a very good life on a VW-with-Amazon-wipers budget.

Ya gotta say:
Goodbye Neiman’s – hello Loehmann’s.
Goodbye Barney’s – hello Ross.
Goodbye Nordstrom’s – hello Nordstom’s Rack.
Goodbye Lancome – hello Neutrogena.
Goodbye mani/pedi – hello nippers and PedEgg.