It's all in the way you say it

I'm not boycotting China anymore. Shocked?

See, ever since we got married one year and eight months ago, we've been using a cheap pair of dressers pilfered from Drew's parents' house, that in actuality belonged to his older sister, if you want to be precise. They were tacky, highly inefficient, and ugly. But being newlyweds with no extra money, we didn't complain. Those worn dressers housed our clothes (even if those drawers were the most shallow things I'd ever seen...), provided somewhere for the lamp to sit, and they worked.

About a year ago, Mom gave us two dressers that she didn't need anymore. It turns out this furniture had originally belonged to my grandparents - it was the first bedroom furniture they bought after immigrating to America. Not only was I giving a new lease on life to a pair of dressers that sorely needed it (envision a coat of slick ivory shellac decorated with cumbersome, gold tinted hardware shaped as scrolls and shells and you've got a great picture of how these dressers used to look...), but I would be preserving a piece of my family's history. I loved it.

Apartments don't allow for large DYI projects. Enter: Drew's dad's wood working shop. We dropped the dressers off and found a weekend here or there to come work on them. It took about four Saturdays just to sand all the paint off. Staining came next. After that, it was time for the hardware.

I'm a huge arts & crafts nut (for those of you who aren't familiar with the term, I refer you to m-w.com: "a movement in European and American design during the late 19th and early 20th centuries promoting hand craftsmanship over industrial mass production"). I was determined to buy awesome hardware in the arts & crafts style, which meant Lowes was out for two reasons.

1. Their hardware is made in China
2. They don't have a large selection of arts & crafts hardware anyway

Thank you for bearing with me. Now we get to the good part! I decided we should go local for our hardware, which led me to Asheville Hardware. They had moved from their very chic, very desirable location on Biltmore Avenue to a rather shady street a few blocks away. I figure the economy hit them hard, just like everyone else. We walk in and inquire about hardware. The guy behind the counter hands us an enormous book, smiles, and says if it doesn't have what we're looking for, he's got a few more. Lovely. We start searching. Unfortunately, the book doesn't have a single price listed. I give the guy the item numbers and he starts to look things up.

"Err," I begin, Could you tell me where these are made?"

He looks at me curiously.

"See, we made a New Year's resolution to boycott China," I begin. The guy and his buddy both turn to look at me. Drew leans against the counter, watching me sink myself. "Yeah," I continue, "So I need to know where these are made."

I wish I had blogged about this incident ASAP. Because in seven months of boycotting, I had never received such a reaction. The guy began to make fun of me. Nicely, of course, but he was still making fun of me. This was Asheville, for crying out loud, home of organic, hippie, liberals who are supposed to SUPPORT my resolution, not make fun of it! He had a couple of very interesting remarks which I would love to share with you...if I remembered them. But in my defense, this conversation DID take place about a month and a half ago.

As we walked out of the store and down the street towards the car, I voiced my frustrations (making sure we were out of earshot first). Drew told me that not once during the past months has he said the word "boycott."

"Huh," I asked, dazed. "What wrong with saying boycott?"

"It sounds like you're a crazy person," he explained kindly. "I usually explain to folks that we made a New Year's resolution to try and not buy stuff made in China. They understand and quickly help me find out where an item is made. But if I said the word 'boycott'...well, it's a much more aggressive word. I don't like it," he said simply.

Judging by how my conversation with those guys went, I'd have to agree with him. Honestly, I've had a hard time talking about my resolution with people because of the word "boycott." Not only does it leave a strong, metallic taste in my mouth, but I honestly think it comes across as snobbish word. "I'm better and smarter than you," says the word "boycott." Americans may sometimes gripe about how everything seems to be made in China, but how many of them actually contemplate a boycott? I don't want to alienate some stranger, or make her feel belittled, or even incite anger by throwing "boycott" around. I just want to not buy Chinese products and share my resolution and reasons with folks along the way.

So...no more boycott. From now on, I'm telling people that I'm not buying stuff from China this year. End of story. ;)

PS Pictures of my very awesome dressers to come!

Natalie Rose

These are pictures from a photo shoot I did a few weeks ago with my friend Laura's daughter, Natalie. The project was time sensitive - Natalie was interested, but only for a little while!




The bear belonged to Natalie's brother Blaise, who died a few years ago.




This girl loves horses!






Almost ready to call it quits...





P.S. Next time you're shopping for bottled garlic, check the label. You may be surprised to find that it was shipped over from China.

Seven down, five more to go!

It feels like forever and two days since I posted anything. I certainly didn't set any record-breaking numbers for "amount of posts written in July," but I figure that's what August is for - a fresh clean month in which to write 30+ posts. :p Drew and I are now into Month Eight of the embargo...and boy, is that hard for me to believe. It's been eight months since I bought something from China.

I was at a book convention this past weekend and Friday and Saturday were effortless. I bought food. I ate my food. I filled the van with gas. I paid for the hotel room. No China anything in sight.

But wouldn't ya know it, my nemesis, the mall, reared its tempting head on Sunday. Honestly, I'm realizing I should stay away from that place altogether. It was the same old story...I'm running into Dillards to check out a sale on purses. Finding nothing, I take a right which leads me right past the lingerie department and all these sale bins chock full of underwear that are marked "$1.99 and up" (side note: don't you hate how it's "and up?" Why can't the sign simply read "$1.99?"). The brand I was eying a few weeks ago has now gone down in price by about $4. And it's STILL made in China (trust me, I picked up about five different pairs, hoping that just one might be made somewhere else. No luck). The nerve.

I need a dress for my cousin's wedding, so Katrina and I will be hitting the stores on Wednesday. If I don't land the jackpot at any of the downtown boutiques, I may just find myself back at Dillards, scouring the racks for a dress. But this time I'm staying far far away from the lingerie department.

My Kingdom for a Key!

This is no figurative key that I’m talking about, folks. When I say “key,” I mean the real deal: long, brass, curvy in all the right places, an actual “Indian in the Cupboard” sort of key.

The mechanism to our bedroom has been faulty for weeks. I usually come hurtling towards my door, intent on grabbing something important, such as a pair of socks, only to remember (when my body hits the door) that it will take a few tries before I will see inside. So I start fumbling with the doorknob. You’ll remember that our ancient yellow house is no stranger to the early 1900’s. This means that our floors do slope; some of our light switches are, in fact, buttons that push in and out; and our doorknobs are huge, brass, and have an old-fashioned keyhole that you can see through. It usually takes three or four anxious twists of the knob before the wooden door pops open.



My husband has proven himself to be quite the handyman, a fact that I was aware of when I married him, but I don't think I fully realized how useful it would be! If something is stuck, creaky, wobbly, broken, clogged, sputtering, or even slightly winded, he'll figure out how to bring it fix it. If Drew wasn't becoming a physician’s assistant, I'd recommend a career as a first-rate safecracker or Connects creator. He loves to know the "why" behind everything (I'm a little worried about all the questions our future munchkins will ask one day...;) I love this guy!



I get out of the shower one evening to find him sitting Indian-style on the bedroom floor, our huge toolbox beside him and the doorknob in pieces. Fifteen minutes later, voila! In my hand is a bedroom doorknob that feels like it was greased with butter.

“Hey, did you know that a key would work for these doors?” Drew asks me.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any.”

“They’re available everywhere.”

“Really? You think Lowes would have one? Mmm…”

We’ve had a few instances when, having guests over, one will barge in on another. I believe I've actually walked in on someone before. *embarrassed* A key would be quite handy in there! And I know it would give the person inside a feeling of security. Hmm…I wonder if old-fashioned keys are made in China?

Esther

It's much more challenging - aesthetically speaking - to photograph a guy. Let's face it, a guy's wardrobe tends to consist entirely of dark, muted colors, he's not jumping at the change to strike an interesting pose for the sake of art, and he has very few, if any, accessories. You read that last part right. ;) Girls come complete with rings, bracelets, necklaces, hair do-dads, hats, scarves, and of course, the cutest shoes ever. So when Esther said yes to a photo shoot, I ran (notice that I didn't jump) straight to her home for the chance. These are some of my favorites...















This one = my absolute favorite

P.S. Did you know that it IS possible to find sneakers from somewhere other than China?! I must admit, I was skeptical. To me, sporty sneakers = Chinese born and bred. Drew and I are running our very first 5K in August and Drew's sneakers are not only old, but he wasn't even the first owner. They also bestow him with blisters. Suffice it to say, he needs new footwear. We went shoe shopping today - to a place that I secretly nicknamed "China Carnival" - and lo and behold, it is very possible to find a few Nikes, Adidas, and Ascic sneakers from Indonesia and Vietnam. I never knew...


These babies are running a 5K! Shh, they don't know yet.

The 4th

A few shots from our 4th of July barbecue...




Max, the newest addition




Drew and Katrina, scheming






The nasty caterpillar, intent on destroying Mom's potato plants...










Fresh peaches - in miniature size - right off the tree!

P.S. Ten Chinese workers at one of Foxconn's plants have committed suicide this year because of bad working conditions. Foxconn is a manufacturer of electronics - said to be the largest in the world - for big companies such as Apple, Dell, Nokia, and others. Check out "Rash of Suicides in China where Apple Products are Produced" at http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/string-suicides-apple-manufacturer-china/story?id=10789704&page=1 or "China Suicides: Is Apple headed for a consumer backlash?" at http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/Apple-iPad-suicides-china-suppliers for more. A quote from the latter article stood out...

"Ultimately, labor groups say, the responsibility for factory conditions lies in the hands of consumers who buy the products. Chinese factories have taken over the consumer electronics production industry not because of special know-how or technology, but because there is a huge supply of cheap labor," writes Kathleen E. McLaughlin of Global Post.

We need to do something; we need to make a difference.

Bra Troubles

I went to the mall the other day. Talk about an exercise in self-control...

It was time to shop for undergarments. Again. I had gone bra-shopping a month ago, anticipating an easy trip. My plan was to duck into Victoria's Secret, grab their two-for-one deal (only $20 for two bras!), and duck out. I had already checked out the different bra styles online and knew what I wanted. Being the successful boycotter I was, I had also emailed the company to find out where their bras were made. Everything was falling into place beautifully!

I walked into the mall and found myself right next to Victoria's Secret (complements of my husband, who wowed me with a new mall parking garage that I had never known existed!). The problems began in the fitting room. "Oh, the Pink bras are for developing girls," said the sales girl. "You'll probably have to go up a size or two." Gee, so I was going to have to bring home a size D cup because I wasn't a "developing girl?" Ugh. After trying on what seemed like a kazillion bras (in case you're missing the sarcasm here, I loathe trying on bras. I believe bras and jeans belong in the same category of shopping difficulty), I happened to glance at a tag. "Made in China." Brilliant. But the email I got said they're made in Sri Lanka, NOT China, I said to myself. Despair was starting to kick in. I began pulling out tags like a mad woman. And would you believe it, there were three different countries of origin for one brand of bra. Go with me on a limb here - all of the bras in my size were made in China.

It was at that point that my supposedly quick shopping trip turned into a nightmare. I met Drew outside the store and, in a shell shocked tone of voice, relayed my findings. He followed me from store to store to store, as I attempted to find one, beige, 34B that was NOT made in China. I went home, empty handed and depressed. Drew rose to the occasion magnificently, attempting to revive me from the depths of despair. You have to understand that the last thing any red-blooded male wants to go is go bra shopping. Not only was Drew there, bra shopping with me, but he was trying to cheer me up!

A beige bra is a necessity for me in the summer. If you were to peer into Giedre's closet, you'd find a lot of black. Take a peek into mine and you'll see loads of white. I wear white in the summer. But not without a beige bra I don't...

So that brings us to today. Or rather, this past Friday. I strode into Belks, remembering that I had found a $30, non-Chinese bra there a month ago. The last thing I wanted to do was drop that much money on a bra. But desperate times DO call for desperate measures. My walk slowed as I saw all the signs with "$20" posted on them. My heart thumped loudly once, twice, in my chest. "Kalabunga," I whispered to myself, "I'm SAVED!"

Of course, the really cute bras with the silver, sparkly doodads were m.i.c. I was not going to lose hope, however, and scavenged every rack until I found a few to try on. This time, I came home with a bra. While Belk did not believe in stretching $20 to cover two bras, I think this new one will do quite nicely.

:-)



This is Max, the model cat.