How was your Black Friday?

The whole idea of Black Friday really does nothing for me. Why on Earth would a store even bother existing if it depends on lunatic shoppers staying lunatic each year only a month before the year's end to ensure that it can turn a profit? If everything is on crazy sale, how does this help anyway? Aren't there safer ways to make money? (Not in America, Dave. Here, the lunatic shoppers are as dependable as the tides.) And from a shopper's perspective, how little is your time worth that you want to wait in insane lines at four in the morning to get the extra 15% off of crap you don't need anyway? I'm not a big fan of shopping as it is, and shopping in crowds is never worth it.

So naturally, I met Franny at the mall after she got off work Friday. I'm clearly an idiot. Luckily, we didn't last too long and had more fun wandering around downtown in the cold. Actually, the Pioneer Place Mall in Portland wasn't too bad. It's just a couple city blocks in the heart of downtown, so parking is kind of an issue. As Franny put it, lots of people want to be able to park their SUV's in the store.

I kind of wonder about the effect of Black Friday anyway. For one thing, lots of people shop online now, which is not really tied to being at the store opening at 0 dark-thirty, while still allowing you to get some great deals. You can still shop at three in the morning, but you can do it in pajamafied comfort after a case of beer, if that's what floats your boat. I've seen a few things here and there which would never be purchased otherwise.

Another thing that I would think might dilute the after-Thanksgiving sales is the pre-Thanksgiving sales, AKA Christmas creep. I began hearing Christmas music before Halloween this year. Costco had it, but in their defense, they they probably got it in HUGE batches that might actually take two months to completely hear. I was also working at a place where someone brought in AWESOME Halloween cookies that we were enjoying when someone found a radio station that had already switched to 24-hour Christmas programming. Not that there's much Thanksgiving music, but seriously, one holiday at a time, please. To paraphrase Lewis Black (Jewish, but apparently not intensively so), "How long does it take you people to shop?"

One good note about Christmas creep: Nordstrom and I agree on something, which is unusual. Nordstrom is all about fashion and other expensive stuff, while I have no fashion sense that I am aware of, and I am borderline miserly. My mother-in-law is a big fan, but I'm merely aware that it's a department store specializing in things I don't understand. However, Nordstrom apparently refuses to put up Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving. For that I commend them. Perhaps I'll buy something from them some day, although for the life of me, I couldn't begin to guess what.

What's a little more debt?

Check out our new ride. It's a 2007 Hyundai Tucson SUV. (If you look close, you can see the top of Mizz's head trying to take it out for a spin already.)


I have to say that it's been about 8 years or so since I bought a car, and after today, I think I can wait another 8 for the next one. I knew going in that I'd have to play the car-sales, if-I-can-can-get-your-payment-down, let-me-go-check-with-the-guys-in-the-back, I'm-really-trying-to-make-this-work-but-I-don't-think-they'll-go-for-it, how-about-that-undercoating, what's-it-going-to-take-to-put-you-in-this-car-today game, but it's still incredibly frustrating when you get into it.

There even seemed to be an extra layer in the process. The first salesman sat with me for a while writing down random numbers that must have been beamed into his head because they had almost nothing to do with what happened later. Then he disappeared into the back and summoned ANOTHER salesman, who then proceeded to do the running in and out of the back hard-sell part of the process while the first kid just sat there looking bored, I assume to keep me from wandering too far.

And they weren't kidding about the undercoating either. Both salesmen pushed it and were shot down. Then the guy at the end, who seemed much nicer and more relaxed and was mainly just the sign-here-and-here-and-here guy, also surprised us by pushing it and having to be denied too. Then, when it was all finished, the first sales guy asked again if I had gone for it. I assume the majority of the cost would have gone into paychecks. No thanks, guys.

In the end, we got what I feel like is a decent deal, although we won't win any haggling awards, I'm sure. We ended up with a fair price on a very safe and reliable vehicle that gives us more flexibility than the beloved but busted ole' Corolla. (Sorry Franny, but the missing hubcap, the puddles on the floor and the fuse-frying taillights probably indicated that it was time for her to retire. I'm sure she's going to go live on a farm where she can play with other old Corollas and be happy.)

I just wish I didn't feel like I had just gone 15 rounds with Jackie Chan by the time it was over. Jackie and I both felt like we came out of the deal okay, but neither one of us seemed to enjoy it much. I don't mean to be completely negative. I like the car and I'm happy with both it and the fact that we can put car hunting behind us. I just wish the experience didn't have to suck so much.

At least we made the Mizz happy. His only request when we asked what kind of car he wanted was "Blue." I suppose Arctic Mist will do.

What was I thinking?

Although I don't recall opening any beers today, I was clearly drunk, as I somehow let Franny convince me to go to IKEA. Going to a store isn't typically news, but this one just opened a couple weeks ago after much waiting by the community and is still under the Port of Portland's traffic management plan designed for a ridiculously large number of incoming shoppers. I mentioned this to Franny and noted that it was a weekend to boot, but she countered that it was late on Sunday and it was dinner time. For some unknown reason, this logic worked.

We parked on an auxiliary grass lot because of the sign reading, "IKEA LOT FULL, DO NOT ENTER!" It's a good thing everybody was home eating dinner, or we might have had to park on the interstate. The store was exactly as crowded as you might imagine.

We went there looking for an enclosed cabinet of some sort to hide the Mizz's multitude of plastic junk taking over our living room. We found a nice set of shelves to which we attached the optional doors, which for some reason, more than double the cost of the unit.

That part was fine, but I had to do it while trying to ignore the stroller, which was hollering, "Are you done yet?" meaning he was done, and, "I wanna go home," meaning, I assume, that he wanted to go home. If that didn't get my attention, he also occasionally screamed and then pointed out that he was, in fact, "too loud." With my other ear, I also got to hear, "What do you think about this in the kitchen?" and "I've been wanting one of these," in all cases referring to things that we did not walk into the store intending to buy. I'm pretty sure IKEA's marketing and design team had Franny specifically in mind. It worked beautifully. (Full disclosure: they do have to fine stuff, and in a less crowded and less Mizz-intensive atmosphere, I might have shared her wonder.)

However, it's now over and we have a nice little cabinet hiding some of the ever-present kid-related clutter. Franny and I and the Mizz are all happy with the outcome, and the Mizz thinks I can build anything. "Daddy make a cab-i-net." Between putting together furniture and changing light bulbs, that kid thinks I'm Superman and can do anything.

Just out of curiosity, at what age will he make the jump to thinking I'm an imbecile who can't be trusted to work his own VCR and who is an embarrassment to have as a blood relative?

That story was probably far longer than necessary. Sorry about that.