Toast

Nothing says good morning like a stout cup of coffee and a perfectly toasted slice of hearty bread. Apparently, my husband agrees. A few evenings ago, he came in from his man cave garage, clutching a dog-eared magazine, and stated, "We have to get this toaster." I paused my on-line scrabble game and glanced at the bright shiny object of his desire. It was a Calphalon, 2 slot, stainless steel toaster, complete with an "Opti-Heat system that ensures accurate temperature control and even heat delivery." According to the reviewer, the toaster is a wizard at browning to perfection anything you can stuff into its extra-wide jaws.

Before I was pulled into the vortex of complete enthrallment, I asked the question I always ask when I am presented with a possible purchase, "How much does it cost?" Pause. Rustling of the magazine page. "I think you can get it for around $60.00."

Pause. "Seriously?"

"Well, don't you want something that really works? You can't put a price on that."

I sighed and said, "Where's the surprise in life without playing toaster roulette with your bread each morning? Sometimes it comes out a little splotchy. Sometimes it is a bit charcoaly. Sometimes it is still cold in the middle. And every once in awhile you hit the lottery and get the perfect slice of toast."

Not impressed, my husband replied, "Good grief. Why not get it right every time? Here is a chance to up the morning odds for a decent piece of toast. I don't think you can put a price on consistency."

"My, my, haven't we come a long way from our first toaster."

I reminded him of how we procured our first toaster during the early years of married life. It came about rather serendipitously. My husband purchased a dollar box at an auction. Dollar boxes are filled with the miscellany of life. Sometimes you find treasures in them and sometimes you are stuck with a clinker. This time we scored. His box contained a no-nonsense, 2-slice toaster, crumbs included. We cleaned it up and grandly placed in on our countertop. The little toaster pumped out many slices of morning treats, perhaps not to perfection, but with complete economic flair.

Throughout the years, we have had a few more toasters. All were able to toast. All were inconsistent. All were less than $19.99.

Still not convinced that cheap preempts perfection, my husband closed his magazine and said, "I'm going to find this toaster," and back to his man cave he retreated.

I must confess that our conversation has made me more critical of our current Procter-Silex, dull white toaster. The plastic around the slots is a little melty. The knob that sets the toasting level doesn't seem to correlate with the finished product. The slots are too narrow for thicker slices of bread. Every crevice is sprinkled with petrified crumbs.

Maybe it is time for a stainless steel, extra-wide slotted beauty to enter my world. It is hard to resist a kitchen helper that has my safety in mind with her extra-lift lever and cool to the touch exterior. She would add an air of regal luxury to the kitchen and grant us our morning wishes.

I think I know what my husband is going to get for his next birthday.

Christmas

Christmas is not my favorite holiday. There, I said it. Haul out the Grinch paint and color me Scrooge. Yes, I want to rant about commercialism, Betty Crockerism and Holly Jollyism, but I will spare you such redundancy. Instead, I propose that we all choose a Christmas antidote and drink deeply from the calm it may provide. Here are a few of my suggestions.

1) Start a Not-To-Do list--If your crack-the-whip list is bigger than the Bible by the middle of December, consider an eraser and a serious talk with yourself. How much of your list is filled with what you think should be done as compared to what makes sense? A Not-To-Do list is a prioritizing experience. Get rid of nonsensical tasks such as putting up holiday towels that no one dares to use or making pink divinity candy that no self-respecting person should eat. Use the everyday towels and eat graham crackers.

2) Use gift bags--If you insist on buying gifts, spare yourself the task of gift wrapping. And whatever you do, stay away from ribbons that need tying and bows that need making. Packages are containers, not products. Temper the need to tie your self esteem to perfectly wrapped presents. A grocery bag works for me, but I understand that there are those who need pretty.

3) Feed the birds--There is something soothing about watching cardinals, juncos and chickadees peck away at suet and seeds. They don't need holiday bowls, special silverware or expensive napkins. They just need a meal to keep them going for another day. I imagine most of don't need perfect tablescapes (sorry, Martha). What we do enjoy is a meal with friends and family, be it a turkey sandwich on a paper plate or apple juice in a sippy cup.

4) Silence--Pour yourself a cup of coffee, shut off all devices and let yourself ponder. If you have little peeps in your house, tell your family that you are going to the grocery store and stop at a coffee shop first. Shut your phone off and take deep breaths. Let your mind go to a happy place. No passport or luggage needed.

5) Celebrate plain--Adorning every available square inch of space is borderline cluttering. A well placed creche has more impact than a room filled with glitter, baubles and Santa dolls. Look away from Pinterest, people, and let your inner zen speak.

6) Watch a funny movie--Sure, It's a Wonderful Life is a classic seasonal movie, but watching an angst-ridden George Bailey stumble around trying to find himself for two plus hours is depressing. On the other hand, watching a cat chew on a Christmas-light cord or Ralphie spilling a hub cap full of lug nuts in the snow may not be very thought provoking but you will feel better for having been a part of such revelry. Save the heavyweight stuff for January.

All this chatter has inspired me to print this year's picture of a Christmas tree. Easy to put up and easy to take down. My kind of holiday.

Wishing you a merry and mania-free Christmas!