My sisters are just like sheep. If one of them says, "buy this!", they all march out and buy it. Except Ann is usually the one who propagates this mania and gets everyone else to buy some worthless piece of merchandise, and by the time everyone else has all gone out and bought it, Ann has decided she doesn't want to buy it after all.
Let us take the Roncoe Rotisserie of Set it and Forget it fame for example. For a brief period, chicken rotisserie mania set in. I remember when Velna and I went up to Preston to see Liz and Ron and they proudly presided over two properly trussed birds as they rotated themselves into splended states of rotisseriness. Judy dissembled for years claiming she had one when everyone knew she didn't. Some where she will pay for this dissemblement. I suckered into this epidemic and bought one, with splendid visions of perfectly rotiserried chicken, steaks, salmon, kabobs, etc., etc. As far as I remember, we may have rotisseried three fowls. It took half an hour to truss them up properly, haul the monster machine out of the pantry, and turn it on, watching the spit turn round and round and round. The chicken itself was fine but then it took two hours to scrub up the rotisserie. I figure my three Roncoe rotisseried birds cost a mere 75 bucks apiece or some such amount. The solution? Pay 5 bucks at Costco for a perfectly wonderful rotisseried chicken and put the rotisserie in the store room. For five bucks, two people can eat for weeks. First, you pick a little chicken off for a couple of sandwiches. Then you chew on the thighs, drumsticks, and wings. Then you make some other dish like chicken enchiladas. Then you berl up the carcass for broth, chuck in some frozen noodles, and eat chicken and noodles for approximately two weeks. All for five bucks and you don't have to clean up the stupid rotisserie. But if you are enamored with the Music Man con man who peddles these things with his adoring audience chanting "set it and forget it," I will sell you mine cheap. As far as I know, all of my sisters' rotisseries have met a tragic fate. But maybe we have all been too dumb to see the potential here.
Now my sisters didn't connive to get me to buy a pressure cooker and a bread machine. I did those deeds myself. I pressure cooked one roast and one batch of pea soup. My wife kept saying, "What is the advantage to that?" "You can roast a roast in a short time and berl some pea soup in a jiffy anyway, and besides, what else do you have to do that is so important that you need your roast or your pea soup in a few minutes instead of an hour or two? I just took my pressure cooker down to the store room.
We did use our bread machine quite a bit when we had more family at home. Bread machine bread is wonderful when it is first baked. But after three or four fresh slices, the loaf sits around and turns to stone and no one ever eats the rest of it. So the bread machine is now headed for the store room. Maybe I'll try one more loaf first.
I know Ann has been like Eve and the apple on several other occasions of sending her sisters scurrying to the stores or to Amazon.com or to DI to get something she has had a current inspiration about, but my brain has fogged in these regards. Perhaps others can fill us in on these multitudinous details. Why is it we have never learned, however? Irregardless [sic] of how many times we have listened to Ann peddle something to us, we still go out and buy whatever her current fascination is? Why is that?
Currently we have the Vintage Sewing Book Saga. A sad story beyond all human imagination. Ann finds this book about how to sew 100 year old underwear and convinces her sisters to all buy the book. Then someone paid for them and mailed them out and now nobody is smart enough to figure out how the heck much anyone owes anyone else or who mailed what to whom or who paid postage. Meanwhile we have burned up 41 comments on what is supposed to be a dignified family history blog with total, utter nonsense. No wonder Congress is so screwed up if we highly educated Blood family members have no idea how to do addition, subtraction, and long division. Why would anyone want a vintage sewing book? What if I suggested we all buy an economic analysis book so we could correct all of our mistaken notions and understand Supply and Demand? How many would buy it? Besides, there is an element of gender discrimination here in spending so much time, energy, computer space, and continual click click clicks to see if some robot has added the next comment to an inane list of previous comments about a book about old ladies underwear. What a sad commentary. Mother would be appalled that her children do not have anything better to do, that they do not know how to do arithmetic, and that they don't buy a treadle sewing machine to make real stuff with. I have worn myself totally out with the effort required to write this epic piece. I hope I have shed light and inspiration on these important subjects.