Tonight I stopped off at No Frills to pick up some groceries on the way home. It's been a while since I've darkened the door of The Frill, as I've been shopping at our neighbourhood Sobeys instead. On my way out, as I looked at my $70.00 No Frills bill and estimated it would have cost easily $90.00 - $100.00 at Sobeys, I couldn't help but wonder, what's the dollar value of a pleasant grocery shopping experience?
No Frills used to be my regular grocery store. Their produce is fresh, they have all the great No-Name and President's Choice products I love, and it's a cheap place to shop. And, of course, there's my admiration for Galen Weston, but that's a whole other story for another time. Lately, however, the downside of The Frill has caused me to pay premium prices at Sobeys.
Let's compare: At No Frills, based on their clientele demographic, you have to deposit a quarter for your cart. At Sobeys, you have your choice of 3 cart sizes (regular, mini, and "shopper in training" kids' carts) and no deposit is required. At No Frills, navigating through the store is a bit of a competitive event with the occasional unpleasant outburst. One time I saw two women come to fisticuffs in the meat department. It was an eye-opener for me and it answered my question about what comes next after someone sucks their teeth at another woman. Quite the sociological cultural study event while grabbing some grocs. But, I digress. At Sobeys, I look forward to (figuratively) running into friends from the neighbourhood, which is great for socializing while shopping, but not so great when you're a fright with no makeup, schlumpy clothes, and bedhead. This look, by the way, is more common among Frills shoppers.
Sobeys has a deli counter. No Frills doesn't. Sobeys has cookie club. The only free cookies at No Frills are the ones that get shoplifted. As frivolous as these little perks seem, deli samples, free cookies, and of course, the lobster tank all provide the kind of mid-shop entertainment my kids need to keep my sanity.
The prices at Sobeys, as I alluded previously, are considerably higher for the most part. Tonight at The Frill, I picked up some Lean Cuisines for $1.99 each, which would most likely cost $3.00+ at Sobeys. A family pack of pork chops was $6.25, compared to $8.00 - $9.00 at Sobeys. A triple pack of baby wipes refills for $3.99, typically runs about $6.00 at Sobeys. I'm not sure what they'd cost at Sobeys but my $0.77 head of romaine lettuce, $0.87 English cucumber, $1.77 bag of bagels, and $0.47 can of tomato paste all struck me as bargoons.
I think the heart of the matter is how much stress you're prepared to put up with while doing groceries. While I was in No Frills during the evening rush, I didn't have the kids with me, so the crazies running around with their carts were a source of entertainment to me rather than antagonization. Bagging my own groceries was no big deal, because no one was trying to climb out of the cart or leave the store without me. I didn't need to take anyone to the fish counter to threaten them with a fish with its face still on for dinner, if they didn't behave. I kind of missed saying "hi" to the lobsters but I enjoyed hearing a loud exchange between a daughter and her elderly mother, with their lyrical West Indian accents and colloquial grammar. It was quite endearing and I am always a sucker for a foreign accent.
So I have to say, if I can hold it together and put up with the nonsense, especially with my children in tow, an extra $20-30 saved at No Frills is worth it. Sometimes, however, our time, sanity, and relationships with our kids requires making the call to spend the extra dough and have a far more pleasant experience. As I always say, experiences are everything and we need to honour ourselves and our kids sometimes by saying "We're worth it."
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Simple Life
I'm in a space right now where I'm trying to figure out who I am, what I'm doing, and what I want. I wouldn't call it a mid-life crisis; it's more of a mid-point check in. Until recently I've been running at top speed going and doing, but never pausing to think about being. With the best intentions, I gave of myself to the point of being on auto-pilot and no longer having a voice. A complete crash and burn, hysterical freak-out woke me up and helped me to articulate that this was not working and that immediate changes were necessary.
Over the past few months, I've been working on saying "no", asking for help (rather than being the control freak who has to manage everything perfectly), and using my voice to say what needs to be said, including "Be quiet, I'm speaking here. I will give you a chance but first hear me out." In doing this, I have started to find time and space to reflect and think about what I want, what my priorities are, and what needs to be let go. The more I do this, I realize that simplicity is key in this complicated, high-speed world.
Pretty ironic, coming from me, the Queen of Complicated. Not to be confused with 'high maintenance', which refers to behaviours, my complications stem from conditions and situations that either pre-exist or have been created by myself or others when I've allowed them. Complications in pregnancies, complicated family situations, complicated workplace dynamics, complicated religious backgrounds, complicated schedules, complicated renovations, recipes, and arrangements. Ask me a question that anyone else would respond to with a straight answer, and I'll always start my commentary with, "Well, there's a bit of a story..."
Because all this can be quite exhausting, it has become important, no, necessary, for me to start simplifying the heck out of everything else in my life. Aside from decluttering and organizing our home, slowing down, observing, and savouring the immediate moment are things I'm learning to do and enjoy. For example, I took a vacation day from work today for some "me time". I read a book while drinking coffee in the sunshine, savoured an al-fresco lunch of flavourful of farm-fresh egg omelette and tomatoes, and spent some time admiring my tidy house courtesy of our house-cleaner.
I do recognize there is a price tag attached to all of these - time away from work, the 2 kids in daycare (my guilt eliminated by the eldest asking to go there today, and knowing me-time is important because if Mama ain't happy, ain't no one happy), and the financial cost of someone else cleaning the house. But it's worth it, and for me, necessary. Things are less complicated this way and I am a believer in spending more on experiences than I spend on things. Not to say money buys happiness - I know a very wealthy individual who, in the pursuit of happiness, finds joy in destroying others' self esteem. The core of what I'm getting at is pausing to be present in the moment, breathe deeply, and have gratitude for the people, experiences, and good things like health, in one's life.
In my search for simplicity, I write more, I think more, I listen to music and stare out the window a lot, enjoying "our garden across the road" in my neighbours' yard, and I find in this I am starting to figure things out. The dots are starting to connect and while I don't have a plan, I am starting to have an inkling of what I enjoy, what's going on my bucket list, and what I might want to try doing. A cup of tea, the cat curled in the sun, trees rustling, these are priceless, simple things. An uncomplicated situation - I couldn't ask for anything more, and in this, I am content.
Over the past few months, I've been working on saying "no", asking for help (rather than being the control freak who has to manage everything perfectly), and using my voice to say what needs to be said, including "Be quiet, I'm speaking here. I will give you a chance but first hear me out." In doing this, I have started to find time and space to reflect and think about what I want, what my priorities are, and what needs to be let go. The more I do this, I realize that simplicity is key in this complicated, high-speed world.
Pretty ironic, coming from me, the Queen of Complicated. Not to be confused with 'high maintenance', which refers to behaviours, my complications stem from conditions and situations that either pre-exist or have been created by myself or others when I've allowed them. Complications in pregnancies, complicated family situations, complicated workplace dynamics, complicated religious backgrounds, complicated schedules, complicated renovations, recipes, and arrangements. Ask me a question that anyone else would respond to with a straight answer, and I'll always start my commentary with, "Well, there's a bit of a story..."
Because all this can be quite exhausting, it has become important, no, necessary, for me to start simplifying the heck out of everything else in my life. Aside from decluttering and organizing our home, slowing down, observing, and savouring the immediate moment are things I'm learning to do and enjoy. For example, I took a vacation day from work today for some "me time". I read a book while drinking coffee in the sunshine, savoured an al-fresco lunch of flavourful of farm-fresh egg omelette and tomatoes, and spent some time admiring my tidy house courtesy of our house-cleaner.
I do recognize there is a price tag attached to all of these - time away from work, the 2 kids in daycare (my guilt eliminated by the eldest asking to go there today, and knowing me-time is important because if Mama ain't happy, ain't no one happy), and the financial cost of someone else cleaning the house. But it's worth it, and for me, necessary. Things are less complicated this way and I am a believer in spending more on experiences than I spend on things. Not to say money buys happiness - I know a very wealthy individual who, in the pursuit of happiness, finds joy in destroying others' self esteem. The core of what I'm getting at is pausing to be present in the moment, breathe deeply, and have gratitude for the people, experiences, and good things like health, in one's life.
In my search for simplicity, I write more, I think more, I listen to music and stare out the window a lot, enjoying "our garden across the road" in my neighbours' yard, and I find in this I am starting to figure things out. The dots are starting to connect and while I don't have a plan, I am starting to have an inkling of what I enjoy, what's going on my bucket list, and what I might want to try doing. A cup of tea, the cat curled in the sun, trees rustling, these are priceless, simple things. An uncomplicated situation - I couldn't ask for anything more, and in this, I am content.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Cheap Entertainment - An Ode to Kingston Road
The Scarborough section of Kingston Road is not only my regular commute route, but is a major source of sightseeing entertainment for what would otherwise be repetitive to-ing and fro-ing on weekdays. The section I see most, from the bridge over the Rouge River valley to St. Clair, if it were a person, would be that slutty, edgy girl we whispered about in high school. She's a fast ride, flashy but not pretty, kinda dirty, and although you'll go there, you don't want to be seen by anyone. Try as you might to have better success with her classier sister, the 401, Highway 2's way easier.
It's the contrasts and the unexpected that provide the shock-value entertainment. It's a reality tv buffet as you drive along. The gentrified West Hill types live on the edge of denial and a stone's throw from a raft of hourly-rate motels, such as the Howard Johnson's, posing as an "inn" and the Maple Leaf Motel with its "Honeymoon Special". The Starbucks patio is dotted with chain-smoking, Tim Horton's cup-toting folk who you can tell from an intersection away are not the usual "Bux" demographic. There is a brazen scrabbling for survival evident all around. Skinny hookers pretend to hitch-hike. I was initially puzzled by their broad-daylight business model, until I realized opportunity knocks for these ladies 24/7, not just at night.
The businesses along the way offer insight as well. The Decent Funiture store (no, that's not a typo) offers dinnet (again, not a typo) sets and mattresses. Surprisingly, Crack Master is a glass repair shop, which I suppose makes sense, although I tend to alternate between images of a drug dealer and that of a big ol' plumber butt. The Loan Arranger is a car dealership, most likely for folks with more concerns about money than what kind of vehicle they need. Spas on this stretch are not anything like Ste. Anne's. Blinds drawn, their signs tout "European Attendants" rather than listing manicures/pedicures, waxing etc. I suspect the only waxing going on is that of someone's Johnson. Off-Track Betting, the bank where a police horse was shot dead a few years ago, the Buddhist temple that was firebombed twice last year; there are stories being told all along this street, every second of the day.
Don't get me wrong, it's not all seedy. Consider the sea of tulips planted alongside the road, by a group of homeowners in Orchard Park, seemingly for the enjoyment of the commuters. And some of Toronto's best audio video retailers are found along this stretch. G & G Electronics and Musonic both do booming businesses, pardon the pun. Indeed, there are pockets of normal, including Guildwood where as newlyweds, my husband and I lived in a nice condo right on Kingston Road. And there are signs of improvement, lots of townhome developments and positive changes, although I would require some persuasion to buy one of the end units in the thick of the action. Hopefully the family scene depicted on the builder's bill-board will play out for the soon-to-be occupants of this development, in harmony with their ghetto-fabulous Galloway neighbours. Ice cream cones and wide-open-mouth smiles all around for everyone. But hey, if Habitat For Humanity can successfully build and integrate a mixed Protestant/Catholic neighbourhood in Northern Ireland, anything is possible here.
Occasionally I'll see regular folk walking their dogs or out for a run, but other times I'll see helmet-less, cigarette-smoking young men on bicycles, riding along the sidewalks, dressed like Trailer Park Boys cliches. I fight the urge to yell out the window, "Wear a helmet and get off the sidewalk!" Better to mind my own business, you don't know how someone might react.
As traffic slows, my automatic reflex always is to hit the "door locks" button. Looking beyond the vehicles of fellow Kingston Road commuters, I scan the faces at the bus stop. We are all doing the same thing. We wait patiently, we commute wearily, cautiously optimistic and hopeful for better things for ourselves and our families. We're not so different after all.
It's the contrasts and the unexpected that provide the shock-value entertainment. It's a reality tv buffet as you drive along. The gentrified West Hill types live on the edge of denial and a stone's throw from a raft of hourly-rate motels, such as the Howard Johnson's, posing as an "inn" and the Maple Leaf Motel with its "Honeymoon Special". The Starbucks patio is dotted with chain-smoking, Tim Horton's cup-toting folk who you can tell from an intersection away are not the usual "Bux" demographic. There is a brazen scrabbling for survival evident all around. Skinny hookers pretend to hitch-hike. I was initially puzzled by their broad-daylight business model, until I realized opportunity knocks for these ladies 24/7, not just at night.
The businesses along the way offer insight as well. The Decent Funiture store (no, that's not a typo) offers dinnet (again, not a typo) sets and mattresses. Surprisingly, Crack Master is a glass repair shop, which I suppose makes sense, although I tend to alternate between images of a drug dealer and that of a big ol' plumber butt. The Loan Arranger is a car dealership, most likely for folks with more concerns about money than what kind of vehicle they need. Spas on this stretch are not anything like Ste. Anne's. Blinds drawn, their signs tout "European Attendants" rather than listing manicures/pedicures, waxing etc. I suspect the only waxing going on is that of someone's Johnson. Off-Track Betting, the bank where a police horse was shot dead a few years ago, the Buddhist temple that was firebombed twice last year; there are stories being told all along this street, every second of the day.
Don't get me wrong, it's not all seedy. Consider the sea of tulips planted alongside the road, by a group of homeowners in Orchard Park, seemingly for the enjoyment of the commuters. And some of Toronto's best audio video retailers are found along this stretch. G & G Electronics and Musonic both do booming businesses, pardon the pun. Indeed, there are pockets of normal, including Guildwood where as newlyweds, my husband and I lived in a nice condo right on Kingston Road. And there are signs of improvement, lots of townhome developments and positive changes, although I would require some persuasion to buy one of the end units in the thick of the action. Hopefully the family scene depicted on the builder's bill-board will play out for the soon-to-be occupants of this development, in harmony with their ghetto-fabulous Galloway neighbours. Ice cream cones and wide-open-mouth smiles all around for everyone. But hey, if Habitat For Humanity can successfully build and integrate a mixed Protestant/Catholic neighbourhood in Northern Ireland, anything is possible here.
Occasionally I'll see regular folk walking their dogs or out for a run, but other times I'll see helmet-less, cigarette-smoking young men on bicycles, riding along the sidewalks, dressed like Trailer Park Boys cliches. I fight the urge to yell out the window, "Wear a helmet and get off the sidewalk!" Better to mind my own business, you don't know how someone might react.
As traffic slows, my automatic reflex always is to hit the "door locks" button. Looking beyond the vehicles of fellow Kingston Road commuters, I scan the faces at the bus stop. We are all doing the same thing. We wait patiently, we commute wearily, cautiously optimistic and hopeful for better things for ourselves and our families. We're not so different after all.
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