MISS MOOX: art

There's no doubt that our culture is a consumer culture. With the wide variety of goods available, and greater amount of money to spend at leisure and on non-necessities, young singles like me with greater stretch in their spending power particularly tend to drop a lot of cash.

It surprises me how often my, and our, activities revolve around purchasing. Get bored: spend an hour or so at the mall, and end up buying some item of clothing you neither need nor really want. Go out with friends: drinks or a meal plus tip and you've just spent times what you would if you made it at home. A movie will cost you 6 bucks minimum, and that latte you crave, more than four dollars for twenty minutes' caffeinated pleasure. See an ad, and you're subtly but powerfully convinced, especially as you think about it, that you have a new "need" you never realized before.

Marketing, and our culture, focuses on creating a want and then compelling you to spend your money to satisfy that want. Whether it's a specified product or just a general attempt to fill some psychological need with the latest techy toy or newest shoes, we always seem to feel we need more.

Of course, I would say it's more than simply cultural: it's a product of human nature. "The lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life", as an older translation of the Bible puts it, is still alive.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, as a spending freeze forced on me by current joblessness and the expenses of Christmas has kept me from spending anything but the bare minimum. It's made me realize how much I carelessly drop a few dollars here, several dollars there: and how many of my daily activities revolve around money. I tend to spend as much as I have. That is to say, if I have money in the bank I don't see any problem with a mocha latte, or a gratuitous trip to Goodwill to find some funky vintage clothing; but the truth is that I have no savings account and many of my purchases are impulsive, ill-thought-out, and completely unecessary.

Much of the time I feel vaguely guilty when I spend, but can often rationally justify it. It wasn't really that much, I do deserve a few pleasures, I'm generous to others, and so on. But in reality, when the rubber meets the road and I'm jobless and penniless, were any of those purchases greater value than a fuller bank account now would be? Did they demonstrate foresight, or simply living for the moment?

I don't have any real answer; I'm rambling, simply because it's a problem I'm facing and I'm not sure of the answer. It can't be simply an ascetic avoidance of all purchases and a fanatical counting of every penny; but at the same time, I recognize a need for more discipline and restraint than I've hitherto exercised. What the answer will be, I'm not sure. I'm as much in need of grace with this as with anything.

"For unto us a child is born,
for unto us a Son is given.
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name shall be called Wonderful,
Counselor, Almighty God, Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace."
Isaiah 9:6-7Heart felt wishes to all my blogging friends and family!
Please take a moment to enjoy this Ode To Joy!

"Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee"
God of Glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flow'rs before thee,
Op'ning to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;
Drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!

All Thy works with joy surround Thee,
Earth and heav'n reflect Thy rays,
Stars and angels sing around Thee,
Center of unbroken praise.
Field and forest,
vale and mountain.
Flow'ry meadow,
flashing sea,
Singing bird and flowing fountain
Call us to rejoice in Thee.

Thou are giving and forgiving,
Ever blessing, ever blest,
Wellspring of the joy of living,
Ocean depth of happy rest!
Thou our Father,
Christ our Brother,
All who live in love
are Thine;
Teach us how to love each other,
Lift us to the joy divine.

Mortals, join the happy chorus,
Which the morning stars began;
Father love is reigning o'er us,
Brother love binds man to man.
Ever singing, march we onward,
victors in the midst of strife,
Joyful music leads us Sunward
In the triumph song of life.
Henry J. Van Dyke 1907

Have a wonderful Christmas celebration!
Blessings,
Carolynn xoxo

In the coming week I will be linking with several of my favorite blogs.
Many of them host weekly parties. I'd love for you to stop by my sidebar to link up with them and say hi!

The Round-up:

• Food - 3.5 out of 5
• Service - 3.5 out of 5
• Atmosphere - 3 out of 5
• Overall - 10 out of 15

It's slightly gutsy to open a restaurant on a semi-abandoned block in downtown Regina that has seen its share of restaurants come and go over the years.

But entrepreneur Astrid Baecker did exactly that two years ago when renovations at 1822 Broad Street got underway. After sitting empty for a few years, the building was looking in pretty rough shape when things got started. Within a few months Baecker and her team added plenty of shine.

What's now known as Bitten used to be home to Gingerz. Before that it was a satellite location of India House for a matter of months. And wayyy before that it was New Orleans. And that's all the history I know of the place.

The room itself, long and narrow with a balcony looking over the main floor, is an awkward shape for a restaurant. That being said, Bitten has made things work by modernizing the colour scheme and placing high-top tables with bar stools on the main floor that can be easily moved around to accommodate groups of all sizes.

The second floor balcony is cozy and closer to the bar. If drinking is your main reason for visiting Bitten, sit upstairs.

The menu has grown over the last two years. It's now several pages long and covers a surprisingly wide range of cuisines. If you want Asian, Bitten does that. If you want Italian, Bitten does that. If you want Cajun, they do that too. While the variety is nice, the menu lacks focus overall. Some of the appetizers, like the stuffed mushroom caps, seem like a throwback to the '80s.

On the other hand, appetizers come in very generous portions. Some might even find them large enough to be a meal. They definitely make for good sharing in a group.

As for the rest of the food, it's generally good. Some entrees, like a Surf and Turf I had around Valentine's Day in 2009, lacked flavour. However, the pizzas and salads are filling, tasty, and priced just right.

I've been to Bitten five or six times in the last two years and the service has always been good, no matter the server. Service isn't always lighting fast, but it's attentive. And Bitten isn't really the type of place you go for a speedy meal.

I can't finish this review without talking about dessert. Bitten's motto, after all, is "Life is Short... Have Dessert First."

The menu features a whole page of desserts to choose from, all of them made in-house. Bitten does a good job of classics like the Creme Brulee and Creme Caramel. The Mascarpone Toffee Parcels were delish when I tried them a few months back. I haven't had Bitten's version of Sticky Toffee Pudding just yet, but that's next on my list.

My advice: check Bitten out if you haven't been, or if it's been awhile. It's worth supporting a local eatery that's breathing life into our downtown core.

I have a habit of storing plastic bags, and, when I go to the supermarket to do my shopping, taking them along with me. This is to prevent myself receiving fifty gazillion more each and every time I shop which will carry my groceries for perhaps ten minutes between the store and my house and then go into a landfill somewhere to do their bit to clog up the biosphere for ten million years (do plastic bags ever break down?). This way, the idea goes, I will be doing my bit to save the environment and put a tiny finger in the very leaky dam that stands in the way of the flood of thousands and millions and trillions of plastic bags leaving supermarkets every day. Every day. Think of it. Think of how many they give you, then multiply that by how many people shop at your supermarket, and contemplate the staggering amount of plastic bag wastage that goes on at one supermarket alone. Then multiply that by all the stores in the world and, well—it's frightening.

I severely miss the supermarket I shopped at in Toronto, which charged you 5 cents per plastic bag. The bags were capacious and sturdy and if you had forgotten to bring some of your own, it was worthwhile buying a few because they could be stored up at home for the next trip or used as dandy garbage bags. Failing that, there was a helpful stash of empty cardboard boxes that produce and the like came in to be had for the taking, if you were driving or had the African habit of carrying things on your head. This served very nicely to keep to an absolute minimum the number of plastic bags leaving the store, and to encourage everyone to bring their own and to stuff them as fully as possible. It was a brilliant system. And since most of the people who shopped there were recent immigrants from India, Africa, the Middle East, China and the Caribbean, who knew about economy and whose cash flow was generally not overwhelming, people followed it scrupulously.

But, sadly, there is no supermarket like it, that I know of, in this area.

And so, at the checkout registers of the supermarkets, plastic bags flow as freely as water. Buying a pack of gum? Put it in a plastic bag. Bread? Has to go by itself in another plastic bag. Cans? Three of 'em will be put into a double-bagger. By the time it's over, fifty dollars' worth of groceries has procured you fifty bags to boot.

Most people are quite happy with this system. They stroll with their trollies stuffed full of bags to the car and take them home where presumably they keep some of them for cat litter and garbage bags and, I don't know, throw out the rest? I can't imagine one household creating a demand for that many plastic bags in one week, ever.

Cashiers and bag boys like giving you plastic bags. It is what they are used to. Your purchases can be swiftly and easily deposited into bags using the neat little hanging system they have by their counter and hoisted into your trolley for takeaway. They know by heart what things should go into what bags and how many things to put in each bag and what to double-bag and what needs to go by itself. They like their little system. It is safe, predictable, easy, quick, and they can do it without thinking. I don't blame them. It's their job.

And then along come I to put a monkey wrench into the works.

Because I politely request that they use the plastic bags that I've brought. Or if it's just one or two items I just say, "I don't need a bag, thanks." Most of the time they are in the midst of swift and automatic movement to deposit my purchases into a bag. And they have to stop, and re-calculate. And look at me as if either I've grown three heads and announced that I'll be commuting home in my spaceship, or as if they've had to take their brains out of park to deal with me and they are not very happy with the disruption to their routine.

Most of the time, they will politely comply. However, this is with varying degrees of success. Often, the bag boys don't realize that the giant canvas bag I carry my bags in is actually a BAG, and thus capable of stowing groceries in. So once I had a kind but befuddled bag boy give me new plastic bags in lieu of using the canvas one, which he folded neatly and returned to me. Once I told a cashier I didn't need the bag she'd put my purchase in, only for her to turn around and throw it out (I suppose it was unusable after holding a fleece jacket for all of three seconds).

Last time I went shopping, the cashier, who hadn't heard my request, swiftly stuffed the few remaining items the bag boy hadn't yet gotten to into three new plastic bags. Then, the bag boy, now having two of my original bags left over, kindly put them into ANOTHER plastic bag for me to take home! I was staggered. I don't know what kept me from saying anything because it lurched forward out of my protesting brain and then somehow got stopped at my tongue. I suppose it's fear of making a public scene, or being perceived as peculiar and idiosyncratic, or of annoying someone who is doing you a service by requesting them to do it in the manner you actually desire. Whatever it was, I didn't say anything, but I carefully and vengefully left those three or four extra bags in the trolley when I returned it. I don't know what happened to them. Probably they just got thrown out. But at least it wasn't me who did it.