First off, thank you to everyone for your muddler-quest advice. I finally did find one in the overpriced kitchen gadgetry store near my office, so I am all set to muddle away at the gathering I'm hosting on Saturday. Of course, for the price I paid, I could have just as easily bought one on Amazon after all and paid the extra few bucks for shipping, but dammit, I wanted my muddler now, apparently.
I have been in that kitchen store probably only three times before, and each time, I've felt like an impostor, like I have a Post-it note stuck to my forehead announcing, "I don't belong here." It's not unlike how I felt the first few times I entered Home Depot on my own, or how a shy and conservative man likely feels walking into Victoria's Secret. "There is nothing for me here," I think. "I don't even know what half of this stuff does."
Truthfully, it's sort of fun wandering around a place where I'm so completely out of my element, though. I rather enjoy browsing through the bins of mysterious hand-held gadgets (cleverly not labeled in any way, so as to keep any inferiority complexes in check), wondering just what each one's purpose is and how many people would actually know that purpose on their own. My kitchen utensil drawer houses very little out of the ordinary. A teetotaler might be perplexed by the foil cutter I have on hand, but other than that, not much is a mystery in there. The usual patrons at the kitchen store really aren't "my people," obviously.
So anyway, I am hosting a gathering, which means I have spent this week making lists and tidying up and running around spending ridiculous sums of money on food and alcohol. I somehow manage to forget, each time I decide to have a party, just how expensive (and how much work) a party is. It's all self-inflicted, of course. Considering the party will, weather permitting, be in my yard, will anyone really notice if I don't dust my TV screen? Likely not. And do I really need to try to anticipate and prepare for every possible beverage need? Again, no. But once the planning gears start turning, it is hard to make them stop.
Tonight I went grocery shopping, and in addition to party supplies, I picked up a few staples I was low on as well. Everyone, please take a look at this Crystal Sugar bag and let me know if you see anything ridiculous.
It says "Naturally Fat-Free." On a sugar bag. Because, you know, refined white sugar may be evil, but at least it won't make you fat. Oh. Wait. Right. (Crystal Sugar People, do you see a problem here?) I would love to have been part of the marketing meeting where they decided "Naturally Fat-Free" was a reasonable selling point. And what tag-lines did they reject before finally settling on that? Moreover, who are the people who actually expected to find fat in their white sugar, and are they buying and using more sugar now, because they're comforted by this newfound fact?
These are the things that puzzle me.
Do you think the flour bags now read "sugar free"?