Earlier I wrote about how I was trying not to buy every shiny thing that caught my interest. Here’s why.
Let’s say I come across a cool bike tool kit. Now, I can afford that. That. But something like this comes up every day. At the end of the week, I can’t really afford all of these things.
And I already have a nice bike tool kit. I don’t need another one. I should be using the things I have.
At some point I realized I already have everything I needed. The feeling that I don’t have to buy anything is unsettling in our society. If you’re not buying something, you’re unamerican.
There’s also this: it never ends. It never, ever ends. If I bought the tool kit today, there’d be something else tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. It will never stop. This is how people get into trouble with credit cards. They cannot keep up, but it’s impossible to keep up. So don’t. (The whole concept of “living within your means” appears to be a foreign one.)
And where am I going to put all of that stuff? When I started to think about this, I became aware of all the things I already had that were stuffed away somewhere, things I’d forgotten I even had. Those things were, once upon a time, shiny new things I had lusted after.
It’s pointless.
The next time I write about this sort of thing, I’ll write about buying things that last. With a detour through our disposable society.
I’ve had a “first aid kit” on the back burner for quite a while. I haven’t actually done anything about it. Mostly I’m checking out the available options. I’ve been comparing the FAK that’s in my car (which was given to me) and the FAK in Kathleen’s car. I’ve been looking at kits from the Red Cross and tactical organizations.
It’s worth noting that, in my opinion, most people (myself included) don’t know anything about first aid and therefore have no idea what should actually be in a FAK. (On my list of things to do this spring is take a first aid course. I haven’t done the research for that, either.)
A client of ours is a hospital. They thought it would be cool to have little FAKs put together with their logo on it. I finally got to see what’s inside it. Ugh.
It’s a little red zippered pack. I have a think about little red zippered packs, because every single little red zippered pack I’ve ever had has failed. The zippers break. The stitches come undone. The whole thing proves to be significantly less than waterproof and everything inside gets ruined. But I digress. It’s about 2x4x6. A lot of that is actually padding. I don’t know why you need padding in a FAK. Most of the interior is taken up by an “instant cold pack.” Because, you know, you absolutely need a heavy brick in a cardboard box. I hope there are instructions inside the box. There are also a pair of small scissors with orange handles, which remind me of kiddie scissors. You could not possibly cut off your own arm with anything like that. There is a pair of blue plastic tweezers. The kit is rounded out by a few supposedly antiseptic wipes and band-aids.
Now, like I said, I haven’t worked out my perfect FAK yet. But this is not it.
Occasionally I come across things that make me think super cool, I want one. But I am “making sacrifices.” I am trying to not buy every shiny thing I see. The reasons for this are many, and would probably make a good post. Here’s a list of things I am not buying
From Cory Doctorow’s introduction to the 20th Anniversary edition of The Difference Engine, by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling
… This is the age of collaboration, an era in which it is simpler to work together than ever before. Consider that Bill and Bruce wrote this book by FedExing floppy disks to each other, from Vancouver to Austin and back again, augmented by long, thoughtful faxes debating what should happen next, and compare this to the process by which writers today collaborate. Charlie Stross and I are writing a novel together by loading text into version control systems that instantaneously collate and track all the changes either of us makes.
First we’re going to make the sauce. Which begins by preheating the oven to 400°F.
Put some olive oil in a saucepan and turn the heat up to a bit more than medium. Add a quarter of an onion (finely chopped), a quarter of a green pepper (finely chopped), a jalapeño or serrano pepper (seeded and minced), a minced garlic clove, and a quarter teaspoon of oregano. Sauté that for two or three minutes, until things are soft and browning. Add eight ounces of tomato sauce and one ounce of water. Reduce the heat and simmer for five minutes.
Pour the thickened sauce into a shallow baking dish. Top with layers of tortilla chips. I used white and blue corn because colors are fun. Crack four eggs over the top. You can try to evenly distribute them but they’re eggs and they’ll go where they want.
Put that on a cookie sheet. Put that in the oven. Set the timer for 15 minutes while that bakes, clean up the mess you made. After one minute, realize that you forgot to put the cheese on it. Open the oven and sprinkle with grated monterey jack cheese.
When the timer goes off, check on the eggs. You want the eggs to be cooked but slightly runny. Time will vary depending on your oven. I accidentally overcooked my eggs. Which was actually okay because of the sauce, but still. The next time I make them I’ll set the timer for 10 minutes.
Serve that up, sprinkled with cilantro. (But not if your cilantro is yellow, brown, or black.)