Ducking the Starbucks Gauntlet

In an ideal world, my Sunday afternoon would have proceeded something like this:

Mother: Does anyone care to embark on a short excursion to Starbucks to sample the  free instant coffee?

Kelsey: Lovely idea, Mother!

Father: Yes, quite! Shall I start the car?

Mother: Good show! I’ll go fetch your riding gloves and then we shall be off!

The threesome selects one out of 12 Starbucks locations within a 10 mile radius of their home and heads off for their adventure. After a short drive in their Ford Deluxe two-door Coupe along scenic tree-lined country roads, the Kusterer family arrives at Starbucks and is warmly greeted by four daper-looking baristas in crisp, green aprons. The Kusterer’s sit outside and sip pipping hot (and free!) coffee beneath the shade of a Bradford Pear tree and give a collective sigh of contentment.

OK, so in an ideal world my family would share quaint British colloquialisms and Starbucks baristas would be contented workers. The following is what really happened.

Mom: Wanna get a free coffee at Starbucks?

Dad: Sure.

Kelsey: OK.

Dad: Should I drive?

Mom: No, I’m driving my car.

The Kusterers head down a busy highway, and pull into the nearest Starbucks. They approach the counter, excited to take the Starbucks challenge!

Dad: We’d like to take the challenge!

Disgruntled Barista (DB): The what?

Dad: The Starbucks challenge…to taste a free sample of the new instant coffee.

DB: Oh. That was more for the morning. We had a big rush then. We’ve run out of coffee. But it’ll take me a few minutes to prepare it.

Kusterers: uhhh, ok.

We sat down and began to ponder the conundrum presented by the DB. First we wondered–how could they run out of coffee? There’s an entire display of instant coffee by the counter. And second–how come instant coffee comes with a lot of preparation time? Isn’t it, well, instant? Can’t you just give us hot water and a coffee packet? Anyone? Bueller?

10-15 minutes later…

Dad: What happened to our coffee?

DB: If you haven’t noticed, we’ve had a long line of customers.

Dad: So, are you saying that I’m not an important customer?

Long story short, after several minutes of deliberating and a cocked eyebrow from my dad, we got our free coffees. Which actually tasted pretty good, but unfortunately had the bitter aftertaste of a run-in with the “well-oiled” java machine that is Starbucks.

Peach ice cream, blueberry bushes and ornamental peppers

I stopped by the Raleigh Farmers’ Market this morning for their celebration of this year’s peach crop and was pleasantly surprised when I found a stand passing out free peach ice cream samples. Creamy with little peachy chunks, the ice cream tasted just right in the July heat.

Just as refreshing as homemade peach ice cream made right here from local ingredients is the recent recognition local farmers are getting. It could be I’m just paying more attention to the local news, but I feel it’s safe to say that in recent times community interest in–well, itself—is growing. And I couldn’t be happier.

The News & Observer is writing spotlights on local farmers who sell their produce at the markets until the Farmers’ Market closes. Carrboro and Durham recently had their Farm to Fork picnic which looked to be a great success. I’ve also heard countless stories of former white-collar execs ditching the big city for an opportunity to start their own farm. Just check out Tim Stark, the self-proclaimed “Accidental tomato farmer,” for a prime example.

Granted, I’m sure many local farming families are suffering from the competition of larger farms and the departure of family member from the farming business. But it’s nice to see that communities are taking a new interest in both purchasing food grown close to home as well as learning about their farmer neighbors. Because that’s just what these local farmers are–our neighbors. So I think the neighborly thing to do is to take a trip to the nearest Farmers’ Market. Who knows, you might even get a free ice cream sample.

Step away from the toothpaste

Everyone is always gripping about animal testing, but what about unwanted human testing? I can’t recall exactly when my participation in at-home human testing started, but I’d like to blame folks like Martha Stewart who promote using everyday items to solve minor problems.

Where my mother found her home remedies is irrelevant to the fact that she made me her unwilling test subject. I’ve been told to put sauerkraut on canker sores and vinegar water in my hair to eradicate shampoo buildup and the drying effects of chlorine. My friends are going to start mistaking me for a bratwurst and salad combo meal. A week ago she was literally chasing me through the house with a tube of toothpaste to begin battle with a pimple.

I appreciate all the concern, but sometimes I feel as though she’s just been laying in wait for me to come down with some new malady she can cure with dental hygiene products. Someone must be fairing worse than I do when it comes to home-style remedies…

But when I  started thinking back to my tween years I realized with mild horror (I haven’t grown a third arm so I guess I didn’t do anything irreversible) that I used to experiment on myself! I vaguely remember making some face wash concoction out of something like Canola oil and brown sugar. I succeeded in producing a lovely shade of swamp brown cleanser that greased up my bathroom sink for the week before I disposed of it.

I wonder if this bent toward self-testing is more an issue for women than men. Women are trained at a young age to obsess about all kinds of potential beauty catastrophies. I can recall taking down notes from articles in womens’ health and fashion magazines as a teenager before I stressed myself out upon realizing I would never conquer every split end or devlish blackhead. It seemed impossible to remember all the products and little tricks to prevent skin cancer, “dry, lifeless hair,” or an acne attack of epic proportions. To this day I still spend a good 15 minutes in the shampoo aisle with a bewildered look on my face and two bottles of seemingly identical shampoos in my hands.

Maybe my mother has the right idea after all.  I don’t particularly enjoy smelling like a vinaigrette dressing once we douse our hair in vinegar water after a trip to the pool. But that home remedy actually works and I can safely say I no longer fear “dry, lifeless hair.” So thanks, mom, for reminding me that sometimes the simplest, albiet smelly beauty tricks are effective and affordable.