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Cancer, you haven’t met the Toths

by Catherine Toth on March 7, 2014 in Musings, The Daily Dish

It’s not the kind of news anyone likes to get.

Last year my older sister told us she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Stage II. Serious but beatable.

Still, it wasn’t something I wanted to hear.

My older sister and I are eight years apart. We didn’t have much in common, with that kind of age difference, save for an interest in rocks and fish. In fact, I was still in elementary school when she moved out, then left for California. I never really got to know her.

We had been in minimal — if not seasonal — contact over the years, sending birthday cards and Christmas gifts. That didn’t last too long. We sent e-mail every now and again. Then that stopped, too.

We weren’t conventional sisters, not the kind you read about in teen books or see on TV sitcoms. But we still loved each other, albeit from a distance.

I haven’t seen my sister much since she moved away almost 30 years ago. In fact, in the last 20 years, I may have only seen her once, a family trip to Vegas. (She hates flying, I’m not a fan of Ventura.)

But all that changed with the cancer diagnosis.

After she went underwent surgery to remove the cancerous cells in her right breast, my mom and I flew up to Los Angeles to see her. She was in great spirits, considering, happier to see us than think about the next phase of her treatment.

It’s taken her several months to schedule her first round of chemotherapy, which started today, but she did it and she’s on her way to recovery.

It’s easy to stay positive when you see the statistics: the 5-year survival rate of those diagnosed with Stage II breast cancer hovers around 93 percent.

But it’s still scary to think of it: my sister has cancer.

Then I remembered: we’re Toths. We’re tough. We can do this.

But it doesn’t hurt to get help, too.

I posted on Facebook today that I was sending positive vibes in her direction, and I was floored by the love and sharing that started to happen on my page.

So I’m hoping this post will help my sister, who needs that same kind of love and support right about now.

You got a story, advice, some words of encouragement? Post ‘em here.

Comments { 12 }

Good service goes a long way

by Catherine Toth on March 4, 2014 in Food, Musings, The Daily Dish

It’s rare that I encounter such bad customer service at a restaurant, I feel like blogging about it.

And while I’ve been tempting to outline everything that happened to me at a particular establishment recently, I decided not to. And here’s why.

It wasn’t the wait staff or food was bad. In fact, I didn’t even sit down at a table. I got poor customer service right at the front door — and that prompted me to never book a reservation there in the several months the restaurant was open.

Oh, I wanted to blog about it. I’m a big believer in sharing accurate information, even bad experiences, because people should know what to expect.

But in this case, I didn’t. I felt it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else who worked there, particularly the chefs and owners, to let this one person influence my view of a restaurant at which I had never dined. It wouldn’t be right.

So I bit my tongue as I browsed photos of crab cakes and short ribs on Instagram, hoping my experience wasn’t shared by others — and cursing the fact that the food looked so ridiculously good.

And then I broke down.

I called one afternoon and booked a table for that evening. When I walked through the door, there was no sign of the worker who had left such a bad taste in my mouth about the place. And the restaurant, as anticipated, lived up to expectations, churning out well-crafted dishes from start to dessert.

It’s interesting how influential bad customer service can be. As someone who writes about food for a living, I’m supposed to try new restaurants, yet this one experience with a front-of-house staffer caused me to put it off for months.

I was reading a blog by New York Post restaurant critic Steve Cuozzo who bemoaned the poor service he received at several new restaurants in the city. And these restaurants knew who he was!

“That I encounter at least as much amateurish, clueless or downright hostile service as I did in my ‘anonymous’ days speaks to the current state of restaurant staffing. It makes it easier to write funny reviews, but it’s nothing to laugh about when regular customers are treated worse.

Exactly.

Service can make or break your business, restaurant or not. I eat at certain restaurants almost exclusively because the people who work there are nice and attentive. The food can hover above mediocre.

And poor service can start from the front door.

But what I’ve come to realize, though, is this: you can’t always judge a restaurant — or any business — by one person who might be having a bad day. Yes, I agree workers shouldn’t bring their personal issues to work. But we’re all human, too, and it happens.

That said, repeated bad service or a business that doesn’t care about the poor treatment you received — well, I’d close that door and never come back.

It may have taken awhile to finally book a table at this restaurant, but I’m glad I did. The food was stellar, the ambiance was perfect and, yeah, the service was up to par, too.

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10 reasons why I don’t mind moving

by Catherine Toth on February 28, 2014 in Musings, The Daily Dish

I don’t know a person on the planet, save for professionals — and even with them I have my doubts — who enjoy moving.

There’s nothing fun about it. At all.

And I should know. I’ve done it, oh, 12 times in the last 15 years.

It sounds like a lot — and it is — but to be honest, two of those moves happened in two days. (Long story.)

Most of you who rent know the absolute horror of moving. I moved so often during the real estate boom in Hawaii because every unit I was living in at the time would sell in a year — and I’d be stuck rental-less.

You’d think I would have gotten used to all the packing and unpacking — or at least come up with some handy tips.

Nope.

I bitch and complain and cry every single time. Nothing changes. I never get better at it — just more enraged and emotional.

I thought about writing a list of the 10 reasons why I hate moving, but that would be so obvious. I hate everything about it. Ten wouldn’t be enough!

So I got to thinking: is moving really that bad? (Yes!) Isn’t there some kind of redeeming value to it? (No!)

I shrugged off my inner voice and came up with the 10 things I don’t mind about moving — and I’m not even being sarcastic.

1. You learn a lot about yourself. When you’re under that kind of stress — and yes, moving is stressful! — you really see another side of yourself. (And other people see it, too.) You find out if you’re a hoarder, if you’re a purger, if you’re anal, if you’re a procrastinator. You learn how you handle stress and organizing chaos and movers who show up an hour late. You really can’t hide all that when you’re moving.

2. You find things you thought you had lost or didn’t know you had. The last time I moved, I found my wisdom teeth, all four of them, tucked away in a little pouch. I didn’t think I still had those. And this time around, I found a set of old-fashioned ice cream cups I didn’t realize I had kept all these years. We collect so much junk during our lifetime, things are bound to get misplaced. I love finding things I forgot I had.

3. You find old photos. Now, this can be both a good and bad thing. Sometimes you don’t want — or need — to see old high school prom photos or pictures with exes. But other times, you come across some real gems — like a photo of your grandparents before they passed away or the moody soccer player you had a crush on in high school. As long as you don’t find anything incriminating — though that could be fun, too — it’s all good.

4. You know who your friends are. I hate moving, so I don’t like to inflict that pain on people I actually like. (If you have a pick-up truck, you likely get asked all the time about helping lug furniture and boxes between homes.) So it always warms my heart when people volunteer — and actually show up — to help. Though I rarely take people up on their offers, it’s nice to hear friends ask if I need help.

5. It’s quality time with my mom: While I rarely ask friends to help, I have no probably coercing my mom into spending an afternoon with me, packing and cleaning. Not only is she cheap labor — I usually just have to buy her lunch or a few Napples from Zippy’s — but she’s smart about the process. She always comes up with a make-sense strategy to pack, organize and clean out the old apartment. Plus, she’s a lot of fun. And you need people you can laugh with and talk to while you’re doing something so heinous as moving.

6. It’s a workout. I’m not kidding, moving really is exercise. Try lugging boxes full of books or a 27-inch flat-screen TV up and down two flights of stairs. It’s a lot of work! I don’t doubt you burn a ton of calories moving (which made me feel a lot better about the onion loaf from Tony Roma’s I ate afterward).

7. Moving gives you an excuse to indulge. Everyone sympathizes with people who have to move. So when you’ve spent an entire weekend packing boxes, carrying boxes, then unpacking boxes, no one will judge you when you decide to eat an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s AmeriCone Dream ice cream. No one. You can do whatever you want. You’ve earned it.

8. It might be a better choice. Since moving is so awful, I only do it when I absolutely have to. And in some cases, the move might actually be a better deal. The new unit might be bigger, brighter, cheaper, more conveniently located. You might have better neighbors or a cooler landlord or a better view from your living room. Whatever it is, focus on that. It will make the move less painful.

9. Hello, new neighborhood! While I’ll miss Aina Haina — I knew most of my neighbors, I could walk to the beach and to a nice hiking trail, there was a Foodland Farms right around the corner — it’s always fun to explore a new neighborhood. There are new places to eat, new grocery options, new walking paths for the dogs, new running routes, new people to meet. That’s always fun.

10. Keep moving forward. Sometimes the best reason for moving has to do with the verb itself. You’re moving — and hopefully that means in a forward direction. For the kind of 2013 I had, this move was not only necessary but happily anticipated. I’m moving forward in a new place with a new life — and that’s really the best reason I’ve got.

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#GreatDebate: Costco vs. Sam’s Club

by Catherine Toth on February 19, 2014 in Musings, The Daily Dish

I’m one of those few — and slightly crazy — people who have membership at both Sam’s Club and Costco.

I’ve had my Costco card for years, back when I dated someone who could — and did — polish an entire 13-by-9-inch pan of cornbread in one sitting. (I literally had to hide food from him.)

And recently, I got added to an existing Sam’s Club account; meaning, it was free.

It’s interesting how similar — and surprisingly dissimilar — the two whole membership club retailers are.

Let’s start with price.

About three years ago, the website Cheapism, which finds and analyzes the best and cheapest consumer products and services, compared the two giants in 18 different categories ranging from gas to membership fees to health screenings.

It also looked at the price of 38 typical grocery items such as eggs, oatmeal and trash bags.

The verdict? Sam’s Club won the overall shopping competition, though Costco’s unit prices were slightly better.

And while price is important — hey, aren’t we shopping here to save a few cents? — it’s not the sole reason why people chose one over the other.

Sam’s, for example, takes more payment methods than Costco, which only accepts American Express, debit cards and personal checks. But Costco has the famous $1.50 hot dog and drink combo — something it introduced in 1985 at the same price.

And then there’s the parking situation, at least on Oahu.

I can’t even think about the parking lot at Costco’s Iwilei location without breaking out into a proverbial rash. (The Hawaii Kai store isn’t any easier. In fact, I’ve seen more yelling matches there than anywhere else, ever. And I lived in Chicago for a year!)

Sam’s Club, in my opinion, is slightly more sane, despite its location atop the stupidly stressful parking lot at Walmart on Keeaumoku Street. The stalls here seem wider, the crowd mellower. Overall, it’s a far less chaotic situation than at the two Costco stores in town.

People seem to have a strong loyalty to one or the other. It may be location — folks who live in Hawaii Kai may not see the point in trekking all the way to Keeaumoku Street to save a few bucks. Or it could be the products each offers.

Which do you prefer: Costco or Sam’s Club? Or do you hate them both equally?

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Why I’m a fan of Valentine’s Day

by Catherine Toth on February 13, 2014 in Musings, The Daily Dish

I’ve always been an accommodating girlfriend.

Whenever my boyfriends have professed their disdain for Valentine’s Day — a common complaint, really — that it’s an overly commercialized holiday that guilts guys into spending hundreds of dollars on flowers, candies and candlelit dinners, I’d have to agree. (Believe it or not, the total spending that will be reached by Valentine’s Day in the U.S. is $18.6 billion.)

I clearly remember one boyfriend awhile back who said, “Why do I need to be forced to do something special for you on Valentine’s Day when there are 364 other days of the year when I love you?”

At the time, I was totally onboard.

He was right. Why allow big businesses — department stores, restaurants, florists — to mandate men throwing entire paychecks at overpriced gifts and dinners? Why let Corporate America dictate how someone shows his love and affection? And, like he said to me, why wait until Feb. 14 to show me he cares?

Well, I believed it until I realized something: I wasn’t getting all that love and affection those other 364 days of the year. He didn’t take me to nice dinners or buy me flowers.

And I wasn’t getting anything on Valentine’s Day, either.

I was effectively getting screwed.

So I changed my attitude toward the holiday.

I love Valentine’s Day — and for all the reasons I’m told (and sold) to.

I love that it’s one day out of the year people show their love for each other, whether in a sweet handmade greeting card or a lavish couple’s weekend on Kauai. Why not make the time — c’mon, it’s just one day! — to do something nice for another person? Is it really that hard?

Look, I was single for years, too, and I know how awful it can be to see happy couples posting photos of their romantic dinners and diamond pendants on Facebook — while you’re home alone with two dogs and a bag of Doritos. I’ve been there, too, and hated the annual love fest as much as the next single girl.

But Valentine’s Day is about love — not necessarily romantic love. Stats show that one out of five roses bought around Valentine’s Day was for the buyer’s mom. (Cue the aaaawww.) And there have been many years I’ve met up with single friends and celebrated our friendship, which is jam-packed full of love, too.

After a few years, my boyfriend at the time compromised with me. We celebrated Valentine’s Day on Feb. 13 instead. (He claimed he didn’t want to fight crowds at restaurants on the actual night. I admitted that was a good plan.)

He realized I had a point: what’s wrong with celebrating the love you have for each other one day out of the year? Is that such a bad thing?

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