Living Broke Another Week

This week has not be as easy nor are we as excited about our new way of living.

I made my husband go to the grocery store with me so that he could pick out what he wanted and I would not pick up things he didn’t want.  This happens frequently.  My husband takes his lunch and a sackful of snacks to work everyday.  He gets tired of the same old stuff week after week.  Sometimes he gets so tired of stuff he just refuses to eat it and it sits in our pantry and expires.  No more!  We are Living Broke, we can’t afford to be wasteful.

My husband is not a fan of grocery shopping and I am not a fan of his grouchy company in the Walmart SuperCenter.  We made it in and out in record time and spent $118. 

My husband is skeptical about this entire budget initiative.  He’s going along with it, but not peaceably. This may be detrimental to his happiness going forward. 

He doesn’t buy beer often and I don’t buy wine often.  However, when you’re on a budget or a diet for that matter, you tend to focus on what you can’t have and not what you really want.  We don’t imbibe often but suddenly he realized he didn’t have beer at home. I told him beer and wine would come out of the grocery budget and he grunted.

On Saturday we were to make a 65 mile one way trip to visit his family.  The plan and my commitment to the plan was to drive up, visit for a couple of hours and bring two of our grandsons back to spend the night.  By the time this plan went through numerous adjustments, changes, accusations, screams and demands, it was clear to me that my husband’s particular family member orchestrating the whole ordeal was going to keep us hung out for hours on end.  I had dinner in the crock pot with a estimated dinner time of 6.  I did not want nor intend to get hung out at the mercy of a control freak, passive aggressive, spiteful, mean young woman just for the hell of it.  I know and love my husband and in knowing him, I know that he has and always will cowtow to demands like this so I told him the only way I would accompany him on this clustered excursion was to drive my own car so that I could come home before midnight.  He was not happy. 

In his mind “marriage” means “joined at the hip forever and ever amen.”  In my mind married means a foot rub when I ask for it and someone to kill spiders for me.  In his anger that I would not endure his lovely family and the ever-changing plans he said “driving up there in 2 cars just wastes gas!  Don’t say anything else to me about a budget.”

Yes.  I did.  I slapped him down quickly on that one.  I figured with my new, fuel efficient compact car, I spent $5.37 in gas to drive up there on my own.  That is a bargain compared to what my bail bond would have been if I had been trapped in his daughter’s home with no escape or release date.   Once I finished  with him over that comment, I rested assured that he would never use “budget” as a weapon in a disagreement of any sort lest I take it away from him and beat him to a pulp with it again.

I came home Saturday at 4.  At 6 pm, my husband called and asked if it was still OK with me to bring the grandsons home.  I never turn down grandbaby time!  I had to quickly run to the store and spend $9 for food the 4 year old would eat. 

I looked at the pay per view channels and saw Wall-E listed.  That would make a great movie night for a 4 year old!  However, once we settled in to watch the movie, it was a premium channel we don’t get.  The 4 year old was not happy.  We told him we would stop at Walmart after church on Sunday and buy the movie since we promised him we would watch it.  And we did.  $20.00

I had planned to get some work done last weekend in preparation for my business trip that began with a 2:30 flight on Monday.  Having the grandsons around meant no work time for me. 

I got up early Monday morning and began a mad rush to get everything done for my trip.  I began the process of printing out hundreds of pages of color presentation materials.  I fielded phone calls and of course since I didn’t have time for issues, I got more than a normal Monday’s share.  I had grand plans to leave my office around 11:45, pack my suitcase, enjoy a quick bite of lunch and leave at 12:45 for a 1:45 arrival at the airport.  HA!   By the time 10 am arrived, I was tempted to call HR and fire myself just so I wouldn’t have to finish out the day.

I sprinted down the stairs loaded down with my briefcase and files, I pitched and tossed clothes and shoes into my suitcase, grabbed things out of the bathroom cabinet, could not find my bag with my nail stuff in it, zipped up the suitcase, ran to the car with it and hoped both the shoes I packed were the same color.  I threw a piece of ham on a piece of bread, grabbed a bottle of water and sped out of the driveway. 

And you know when you’re running late, everything that can go wrong will go wrong.  Like heavy traffic and incompetent people at every point of contact it takes to actually get to the gate.  And I know the only reason that TSA agent made me take off my sweater was so he could see my bra.  Asshole. 

I got through security, got dressed and ran to my gate barefooted.  Yes, I am so professional when I travel.  Always representing the company with my best sock foot forward.

There were issues on the plane that are worthy of their own post, so I’ll save those for later.  I thought about all I had to do once I landed.  I didn’t have all my printing done, so I would need to find a Kinko’s.  Any my nails?  I gave up manicures for Living Broke, but I had to do something about my hands before I sat in front of important CEO people the next day. 

Once I arrived in Kansas City, I drove quickly to my destination.  I broke the no manicure rule and paid $15 for a manicure and conversation with a Vietnamese woman I couldn’t understand. 

Once on the road, all my expenses for meals and the glass of wine I had for dinner are not my personal expenses.  I am a frugal travel not because I am a tight wad but because I live the way I live and eat what I eat no matter who is paying for it.  I know and love people who are extravagant on the company’s dime.  I got news for you, that big ole fat steak and order of bacon cheese fries may be free, but it is still 9,000 calories and it will expand your ass.  Literally.  I’ll take a $5 Subway turkey on wheat please.

I arrived home late Wednesday night.  On Thursday, my husband and I had to speed to the accountant’s office in the city to sign our tax return.  We had gift cards to a couple of restaurants so we went to dinner afterwards.  After we used our gift cards, we both chipped in $4 to cover the rest of the bill and tips.

I had committed to making a donation to a non profit that is close to my heart for a silent auction.  Yikes!  Where would that come from?  I scoured the junk drawer and found an unused $10 Walmart gift card.  I was willing to fork over a few more dollars to get something decent.  I found a set of new grill tools, a vintage looking Barrell of Monkeys game and a stuff animal.  Total $19.71.  I used the gift card an paid $9.71.

So we survived another week.  Today is Friday, it is grocery day again.  I’m hoping to have a little bit of grocery money left to buy a banned item – like one bag of Kona coffee.  But then I reminded myself that I need to get little Easter things for our grandchildren. There goes the coffee for at least another week. 

I saved all my laundry for tomorrow because it is supposed to be nice outside and I have a clothes line.  After paying our 4th astronomical utility bill this week, the dryer is grounded!  It will not get to dry our clothes unless is it an emergency.  It costs nothing to hang them out on the clothesline and they smell better dried on the line.

I’m sure Living Broke will get harder as we get into this week.  However, we must do it and I know we will.

Living Broke – Prioritizing

What is a luxury?  That guy who rants on the radio and TV – Dave Ramsey – gets all worked up about cutting expenses and living within your means.  I don’t feel the need to call in and confess anything to him, I have lived below my means for many years now.  But I will admit that the expense cutting he likes to yell about is practical advice when one is trying to go from being comfortably employed to Living Broke.

My husband I have made our weekly budget and in that budget, there is no room for  luxuries we have enjoyed over the years.  There are many things we must cut out.  Let’s get started.

100% Pure Kona Coffee.  Oh, have you tried this?  Heaven in small brown, perfectly roasted coffee beans!  I didn’t know about Kona Coffee until we went to Hawaii 3 years ago and had Kona coffee in Kona.  It was like no coffee I’ve ever tasted, and I fell in love right away. 

I found this coffee at my most favorite place to buy yummy foods – Fresh Market (which has also been cut from the budget).  I order our delicious Kona Coffee on line most of the time.  It runs about $26 for a slighty-less-than-one-pound bag.  Even being comfortably employed this was a bit much for coffee.  We only drank Kona coffee on Satudays, Sundays and Christmas.  If you don’t know about Kona Coffee, read about it here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kona_coffee.   Kona coffee was cut.

Eating Out.  I am uncertain about completely cutting this out right now.  One of the differences I have at home is eating out.  Because I travel most weeks on business, I eat out more than I eat in.  While I’m  galavanting around exotic locales such as Sioux Falls, Topeka and Sandusky, my husband is home scrounging for food he doesn’t have to cook.  It is pitiful to call home while I’m on the road and tell him about the fabulous restaurant I enjoyed with a client only to hear him talk about the potted meat sandwich he just ate. When I get home and we have a weekend – he is ready to go out!  I am ready to eat in. 

Eating out is something he enjoys more than I do.  Is it really fair to cut it out for him when I’m still doing it?  This one may have to be compromised, espeically when I am out of town.

Nice Wine.  Up until I met my husband in 2000, I did not drink.  I couldn’t, I was Baptist and it was just not allowed.  I didn’t know what wine tasted like.  During my wild and rebellious teen years, we were all about the contraband Coors sold only in a few states.  I understood the deep motivation of Smokey and the Bandit. 

My first taste of wine was the incredibly sweet pink stuff.  From there I refined my taste in wine and graduated to less sweet reisling, then on to the light reds.  I am now a cabernet lover, I have gone deep into the wine cellars over the past few years.  My most favorite wine of all time is Cambria Pinot Grigio.  It is a mere $25 per bottle.  We’ve had more expensive wine than $25, however that happens to be my favorite. My husband refuses to drink it, stating it should be against the law to charge that much for a bottle of wine.  Especially when Berringer is just a few dollars a jug. 

Like the expensive Kona coffee, my favorite wine is reserved only for the most special occassions.  Births, graduations, signing big deals at work and acquittalsw.  But no more.  Cambria was cut.

 

Frivolities: 

The cleaning ladies that come every other Thursday.  They’ve been coming for 7 years.  I can easily justify the meager $50 per cleaning when I’m busy jetting about the fly over states, but if I am at home with no job, I can get off my ass and mop my own kitchen. 

The yard mowing kid.  He was a tiny little 11 year old nerd when he and his daddy knocked on our door 7 years ago. He stuttered and asked if he could please mow our yard.  His daddy would help him, and he promised to always do a good job.  We watched him grow from the scrawny little kid to a fine young athelete than is now in his second year of college.  He not only mows for us in the summers, but he mows up the leaves in the fall and helps my husband with larger, more manly yard chores.  If I am not working, I can get off my ass an mow my own grass.  I think it will take 4 hours.  We’ve only mowed it ourselves once and it seems it took that long.

Newspapers.  I had 2 subscriptions.  One to the Wall Street Journal and one for the big city daily.  Gone.  both of them.  I can read the city daily on line and even print the coupons on Sundays.  WSJ?  Ha!  Too darned expensive for those Living Broke.

Phone lines.  We have 3 out of necessity.  Home phone, office phone, office fax.  I must have the office lines, but the day I get the call, I am cancelling them. 

Cell phone extras.  We will keep our cell phones, they have become a necessity in today’s world.  The data package will have to go and so will the broadband card.  The minutes will also be cut.  If someone needs to talk to me so long that I’ll run over my minutes, they probably need to be telling me stuff to my face.

Tupperware, Premier Jewelry, Pampered Chef and other stuff I buy to be nice  and don’t need. 

Our satellite TV is not on the cut list just yet.  We don’t live close enough to a major city to pick up channels without cable or satellite.  We have only the basic channels as neither of us are avid TV watchers/couch potatoes.  I enjoy the news every morning and an occassional episode of Green Acres. We watch a pay per view movie for date night about once a month.  So for now, the satellite hook up stays.

I have given up manicures, pedicures, massages, buying stuff for my grandkids, Starbucks, mindless shopping,  name brand cosmetics, and I  stopped our recent home improvement project before it was finished.  But I am not giving up the aloe vera toilet paper.  Nope.  No way.  Forget it.  That will be the last thing to go, just before we are moving our few possessions under the bridge. 

When you are Living Broke, you have to have your priorities in order.

Living Broke

With the cold hard news of my impending  job loss, my husband and I had the money talk. We agreed to begin that day living as if we were broke.  We decided to put half my paycheck into the Oh Shit Fund down at the bank and that our tax refund would not go to pay for the trip we’ve planned for almost 2 years: A week long adventure hiking the Grand Canyon.

Living Broke to us means a strict budget and absolutely no unnecessary purchases, trips or other expenses.  We both get allowances each week.  If we don’t spend our food budget at the grocery store, we might have enough left for a bottle of wine.

Living Broke is not a new concept to me.  Years ago, I was the 24 year old single mom with little kids and not enough money to buy groceries on Friday.  There are memories that stick with me of that time.  When I start feeling sorry for myself or thinking about how “bad” I have it, I can recall having a package of 6 chicken legs and a can of peas.  Period.  That had to be supper for me and two kids.  And it was. There are calculators somewhere out there on the internet that will tell you how much $30 from 1985 is worth in today’s dollars.  I don’t know where those calculators are, but if you find one and figure out how much that 1985 $30 is worth today, the next thing is to consider how you can take that $30 in 1985 and put gas in your piece of shit car to get you back and forth to your factory job for a week AND buy enough food for yourself and your two kids to last for that same week.  I know how to be poor.  I’ve been there and I’m not afraid.

My financial situation improved just a bit each year.  I only had my power cut off a few times and no one ever went hungry thanks to my mom who came through with a few dollars to help at the grocery store when things were really bad.

The scariest part for me was having no medical insurance on myself and my kids.  That was for a brief period of time, when I worked for a non profit and there were no benefits.  I lived in fear that something would happen and I would not be able to get medical care for my kids.  And what about me?  I had to work to get paid.  What if I got sick?  I had the fear of God put in me just a few years before I had no health insurance.  My baby was just 2 and he was very sick.  High fever, a coughing that came from deep in his chest.  I took him to the doctor, signed in and had a seat cradling him in my lap, scared to death.  The clerk called me to the front and said that unless I paid my unpaid balance, the doctor would not see my baby.  WHAT?  What balance?

The issue was that in the divorce, the babydaddy was responsible for the medical expenses not covered by insurance.  The doctor’s office sent the co pay bills to him and he was not paying them.  There was a balance of around $100.  I wasn’t sure if I had enough gas money to drive home, much less $100 to fork over for an unpaid bill that legally wasn’t mine.  I made a call to my mother, who took off work, came to the office, paid the bill and stayed with me until the baby was seen.  Because mommas do that.

Those were hard HARD times, but guess what?  I  survived.  I learned hard life lessons and I understood just how strong I am.

As my kids turned into teens, the money was tight, but I was doing well enough to afford things like gas in the car, a weekend trip to a baseball game and other niceties.  I still kept a tight reign on my income, as I did not want any emergencies to wipe me out.

When I bought groceries on Friday, I bought very little junk food.  I bought one bag of chips for each kid and one box of snack cakes/cookies, whichever they chose.  Those luxuries were only bought on Friday and when they were all consumed, they were not restocked.  I made sure to buy enough food to last a week, but if we ran out of something, we were out until Friday.

Eating out to us was fast food and it was not often.  My kids were both teenagers before we went to a restaurant that required forks to eat the meal.  They were quite impressed.

As I moved up in my career and my income increased beyond what I ever imagined, I remained a tight wad.  I had 2 kids to get through college and I had no savings to do it with.  I lived frugally on my income and paid as I went to put one child through a 4-year university and the other through a very expensive 13 month technical college.  My greatest accomplishment in life is getting both of them through college with NO DEBT for anyone.

Once those days were behind me, I began to relax and realize that I could enjoy life a little.  I made certain to live below my means, but I made certain to do things I enjoyed.  I felt I earned it.

I bought a nicer house.  My former house was old, outdated, needed work and once my kids were gone, so were my ties to that town.   My new house has amenities like closets.  I earned it.

I let a professional color my hair, I purchased underwear from Victoria’s Secret and I discovered manicures.

I got married.  We had a nice private ceremony in the mountains, a honeymoon and a great reception once we returned.  I took my kids on a cruise, I paid for my kids’ weddings and receptions.  I have spent more money that I want to admit on my grandchildren.  I am still careful about what I spend, but if want something big, like new furniture, I can buy it.

I don’t think I’ve been extravagant.  I save a chunk of my income, I give the proper amount to church, I support my best friend from high school who is living in the jungle in Ecuador as a non paid medical missionary. And if I want a cup of coffee at Starbucks, I get it.

So now we are Living Broke.

In the past week, I have had to think about Living Broke to actually do it.  I got my $20 allowance on Friday.   I came in well below our weekly food budget by making a detailed menu for the week and a list of what I needed.  Our Friday night date was a $4.99 pay per view movie that my husband paid for out of his allowance.  On Saturday we went for a sunset ride with our best friends and when it was time to choose a restaurant, I choose the cheap mexican place.  I paid the $15 bill and my husband left the tip.

On Sunday I drove to my daughter’s to spend the night.  Monday morning, I had $5.  I stopped at Starbucks and considered using my debit card to get the coffee I wanted to go along with my oatmeal, but decided I would not cheat, this is serious.  I bought my oatmeal and a small cup of regular coffee for $3.85.  Yikes!

I stopped by Walmart today because we needed a loaf of bread.  What I spend during the week on groceries is deducted from the weekly budget.  I knew I was successfully Living Broke when I walked into Walmart for a loaf of bread and walked out with just a loaf of bread.  I am usually one to shop around, there is always something I need at Walmart.

Today I had to drive 40 miles to the big city to take our tax stuff to the accountant and stop by the bank.  It was 5 pm when I left the bank to start home.  I saw it.  Right there.  Starbucks.  I know what is inside Starbucks!  Tall Caffee Mocha for about $5.  I didn’t have $5.  I touched my debit card.  I took a deep breath.  I looked in the bottom of my purse, just to see if any errant money had found its way to the bottom in weeks past that I might discover. Nope.  Nothing.  Just $1.15. I might as well head home.  No treats for me.

Then I saw the sign.  Large fountain drinks for $1 until 7 pm.  I turned into the McDonald’s parking lot.  I was a happy girl!  I was going to get a treat after all!  With tax, my large Diet Dr. Pepper was $1.10.  I don’t remember a Diet Dr. Pepper ever tasting as good as that one did.

If I was not Living Broke, I would have purchased the $5 coffee and I would have enjoyed it without a second thought.  I probably would have stopped in the nail salon and forked over $20 for a manicure. Usually when I have free time and I’m in the city, I take a leisurely stroll through Target looking for home decor items and more stuff my grandkids don’t need.

Living Broke is an adjustment.  I know I can do it and I know it will have its rewards, just like that $1 Diet Dr Pepper today.  I don’t how long we’ll be Living Broke, but I think once we get accustomed to it, we may not go back to the carefree days of spending money just because we can.  It seems foolish now to think about the consumers we have been.

The unpleasant road

I’ve wondered about the passengers on the Titanic.  The boat is sinking.  You know it.  You know you are going down and there is nothing you can do.  Do you pray for a speedy end?  How about someone who knows their spouse is filing for divorce and there is nothing they can do to stop it, all hope is gone?  Do you just wish it would hurry up and be over?

OK, my current situation is not life threatening and I confess the comparison to the Titanic passengers is over the top.

I am on a road in life – my employment road – and I know the end is just up ahead.  I don’t know exactly when I’ll get to the end of the road, but I know it is there.  There is nothing I can do about it and I know that.  My name is on the list and the powers that be are working their way down the list, my name is getting closer to the top. I am on the list to be let go, the LetGo Road.

When I was hit with this information just last week, I had to take a bit of time to reconcile myself to the inevitable.  I went through my own deficiencies and acknowledged what I could have done differently, although most of those improvements would not have been a detour off LetGo Road.  But I need to know where I am lacking.  What skills do I need to improve?  What skills am I missing that I need to learn?

How is my personality working for and against me in my career?  What interpersonal skills do I need to develop?  How could I have been a more effective manager?  I had hurdles with this position, what were other possibilities for getting through those?

And I thought about my accomplishments, all the things I did right.  I listed those.  Those are my strengths.

I wanted to reconcile myself so that I would know I did my best, and if I didn’t, why not?

I made peace with myself and my 6 years with this company.  I believe that being on LetGo Road at this point is not due to me being deadweight or a bad employee.  It is the result of cutbacks and the economy and a corporate take over.  The new management wants to go in a new direction and they want the people they know and love from the past to have the chance to rebuild and change the course of the company.

It helps that I’ve been the manager in an exact scenario in a previous company.  I can recall with vivid clarity being promoted to manage a business unit and my first directive was to clean house.  Without having the opportunity to review and assess current employees and positions, I was told to let them all go, no exceptions.  We had to start over.

My first major project as the new VP of the business unit was to go around to our various locations and let people go.  That was hard and I lost sleep before, during and after.  I remember some of the staff looked at me as a savior of some sort.  They knew their unit was broken and needed to be fixed.  They thought I would fix it for all of us and they welcomed me into their world.  And then I fired them.

I know that once the decision is made to let someone go, that is the final decision.  The most heartbreaking thing for me were the people who had good reasons why they should not be let go.  “What about THIS I’m working on?”  “We have an audit coming up, I’m the only person who knows THIS.”  “But I’m right in the middle of THIS big deal.”  It didn’t matter.  Once the manager is sitting there with the pink slip in his hand, the decision is DONE.

I have the advantage of being on the other side and understanding that this shit just happens.  The best way to deal with it is to accept it and know that you can’t change it when it happens.

Along the LetGo Road, I see people who were completely blindsided by their termination.  I will not be blindsided, I know it is coming.  I feel that is advantage  I have time to be shocked and grieve a bit.  When I get that call, I will be able to say “thank you for this opportunity” and mean it.

I have time to do  emergency financial planning.  I don’t have long, but at least knowing I’m on this road helps me make decisions that I can implement now to help in the long run.  An example is the spending of the tax refund.  We had plans for that money, FUN plans.  Now that I’m on LetGo Road, we have different plans for that money.

I have to think ahead.  My resume is up to date and I’ve already started my new job search.  The market in my profession is dismal.  I have the time right now to think about my skills and abilities and start planning, at least in my mind, what I will do next.  I have made a list of the “to do’s” I need to do immediately when I reach the end of LetGo Road.  I have considered the volunteer work I will start as soon as I get the call.  I have a list of people I will call.  I have time to get things together.

In planning ahead, I am excited about what I can do next!  I find myself wishing I’d hurry up and get to the end so I can get started on what’s next for me.  But then I realize that every day I work is one more day I get paid for and I know I need to wait.

In my work life, I had to make a decision and honestly, it wasn’t a hard one to make.  Knowing that everything I am working on right now is going to be gone soon, how much effort do I want to expend?  I know some people on the LetGo Road have a bad attitude and decide “to hell with ‘em” and do as little as possible.  They take home pens from the supply closet and snicker about what they are taking from the company.   I can’t do that.  I can’t blow off my responsibities or pull back my efforts.

I have an assigned client base.  I like my clients.  I want my clients to succeed.  Therefore I must continue to offer them my best and not let any errant disappointment seep into my work.  This is not their issue right now, it is mine.  It is just what I believe.  My work ethic and sense of what is right will not allow to screw up my clients, even with simple job neglect along the LetGo Road.

Part of me wants to get to the end of this road so that I can move on.  Part of me is happy to get another day to do what I love doing and get paid for it.   I could wish and hope that the end of the road does not come, but wishes and hopes are not life strategies.  That is not to say I don’t have hopes, I do.  I just understand that hope is just that.  It is not fact, it is not the end-all solution.  It’s yet another road of life to get you where you need to be.

Waiting

I am doing what thousands of people are doing right at this very minute.

I am pacing the floor.  I have the volume on the radio down so that I can hear any sound coming from outside, the telephone, my cell phone, the little ding sound on my computer when a new email comes in.  I have CNN on and I am googling shit and coming up with bullshit.  I skipped church tonight just in case.  As I sat down to my hastily prepared dinner, I thought a glass of red wine would help relieve the tension, but I passed on it in case I need to leave in a hurry and drive somewhere.

I have my friends on alert and I am almost embarrassed by that.  Surely I am not being a drama queen!  I am anxious because my husband is in class tonight so I know he doesn’t  have his cell phone with him.  Not sure anyone at the college answers the phone at night, how long would it take me to reach him if I had to?

So I pace.  I remind myself every 5 minutes to stop frowning as it causes wrinkles.  Sometimes I stop the busy activities long enough to stare out the window into the darkness looking for an answer that is not there. I want the phone to ring but I don’t.  When it rings, I put down whatever is in my hands just in case.

What is the problem tonight?

A soldier was killed in Mosul.  On the base where my nephew is stationed.  The unit is on lockdown so there is no information coming out of the area.  We don’t know.  We are waiting.  The waiting sucks.

I almost feel guilty thinking it is not him as hoping that it is not my soldier means I am wishing it is someone else’s.

A very dear friend called and reminded me that there are 150,000 troops in Iraq right now.  There are probably thousands in Mosul.  The odds of that one soldier being my nephew are pretty low.  I know that.  But that solider is someone’’s soldier.  There are probably thousands of aunts, uncles, grandparents, sisters, brothers, wives,  cousins, husbands, mommas, daddies and some little kids wondering and worrying tonight.

Maybe this worry lessens with time.  He has only been there since December, all this is new to our family. Maybe you get hardened to the news reports and maybe in 6 months we’ll hear stuff like this and not blink an eye.  Maybe.

But in the meantime, I bet there are thousands of us pacing, worrying, praying, cussing, drinking, holding on to Bibles like they are the lifeline pulling us out of hell.

And sadly, one of us will get that knock on the door.

Blinded by the Light

The first breath I took this morning at 6:30 am bit the inside of my nose. 

It was 24 degrees outside when I stepped out my garage for my morning run.  This morning’s temperature was one of the coldest I have attempted to tackle with a morning run.  The plus was there was no wind, so 24 was what it felt like.

The days are getting a bit longer and the sun is rising a bit earlier each morning.  Just a few weeks ago, I completed my warm up laps in the dark and set out eastward on the highway in time to see the orange sun breaking through the trees as it rose above the horizon. 

This morning the prettiest part of the sunrise – the breaking into day – occured during my warm ups.  By the time I stepped out on the highway heading east, the sun was up above the trees, no longer orange, but a bright blindingly beautiful yellow.

As I ran toward the rising sun, I couldn’t help but just look toward it. I became mesmerized by the bright light.  I watched the light streaming through the trees in the distance as it slowly climbed higher in the sky.  I was oblivous to what was around me.  I felt my feet hit something not so smooth and looked down to see I was running across a bit of rocks. 

At that point, I thought about how running is an analogy of life in general.  How often do we set out on a course and get blinded by something wonderful on the horizon?  The most common “blinding” we here about is “blinded by love.”  How true it is that when someone falls in love/lust, they are blinded to their surroundings.  They don’t see the rocks and boulders under their feet, the warning signs they are not on the right path, because they are looking into the beautiful light and not seeing anything else.

Once the sun is up over head and we begin to look around us again, we see the everyday things that were there all along.  That’s when we realize we took a wrong turn, or the detour we took to prolong our view of the blinding light leads down a dead end road.

It’s not just in the matters of love that we are blind.  Sometimes we are fine right where we are, but we see the blinding light of a new job that seems so perfect.  Promises are made, all we see is the good.  We don’t look away from the too good opportunity long enough to see what is really on the road right in front of us.  How many times do people abandon what they have for a promise of better things and then realize they are in the same boat?  Or out of the frying pan and into the fire?

That’s not to say that we should never take risks to better ourselves.  But maybe we need to take our eyes off the blinding sun long enough to assess where we are and what we are doing.

Running toward the rising sun this morning blinded me to the potholes and rocks along my route.  I took a 1/2 mile loop detour off the east bound route right at the one mile mark.  On this short loop, I couldn’t see the sun, I was among trees and houses.  I could see the road before me, all the rocks and holes.  Once I got back to the eastbound highway, the sun was higher in the sky and not directly in my eyes, blinding me to all that was around me.  I had a better perspective of where I was and the road in front of me. 

Maybe that is a life lesson.  When you are speeding toward the bright light of love, a huge life change, debt or slaming the door on a relationship, maybe you need to take the 1/2 mile loop off the blinding path to get your perspective and your eyesight back.

Arrival

Welcome to Denver, where the local time is one hour later than your body clock and the temperature is cold and there is not enough air for you to breathe.

Right after I sent my letter to Northwest, I got a love text stating my first class upgrade had been confirmed.  I believe Northwest still loves me.

I felt like a flying virgin today and had a few faux pas along the way.  Before I confess my faux pas, I must put out my disclaimer that I am under more stress than usual and having a bit of struggle keeping my cats herded. 

Stress #1:  Someone came in my house last week allegedly to rob and pillage.  Only problem was that I was at home when they came in.  I didn’t come face to face with my visitors as they were probably as scared of me as I was of them.  When I realized someone was in my house and so was I, I grabbed my keys, got in my car and drove straight to the police station.

Stress #2:  I love to bitch about my aching back because that makes me feel like I am doing something about it.  However, it has become progressively worse over the past few months and all the bitching in the world is not helping it any more.  I hate taking pain pills worse than I hate leather car seats so the doctor decided rather hear me whine and complain about pain but not taking pain pills, he sent me for an MRI. 

The MRI results came back and I did not get the news I wanted.  I’ll report back after I see the neurosurgeon next week.  I am not happy.

Stress #3: A text message from my brother as I was speeding to the airport this afternoon.  “4 soldiers killed by ied in Nephew’s unit.  Not him. Waiting for call, unit on lockdown.”

That’s not the kind of message I want to read or see although I am very aware that message was really good news in a really bad way.

I can’t stand thinking about my 21 year old nephew manning artillery in Mosul.  If I picture him in his uniform, with his child like face smiling at me, standing in that hot desert, well, I can’t think about it.  I imagine many military families struggle with knowing their solider is brave and doing right thing and having pride in them to dying on the inside because you want them out of harm’s way. 

Mr. New President – if you’re reading this, I want our soliders home, OK? 

So by the time I got to the airport, I was half upset, very stressed and not fully focused on the tasks at hand. 

I have a method, a procedure, a way I do things to keep my travel as simple as possible.  I park at the same place.  I go in the same entrance to the airport.  I put my boarding pass and ID in the same place.  I check in, go to the ATM and the potty.  Then I go through security.  I have a system.

Today I didn’t follow my system and couldn’t find my driver’s license when I got to the potty.  I forgot to take my one quart zip lock bag of liquids less than 3 oz out of my bag for xray.  I forgot where the newsstand was located.  But once I got my coffee and newspaper, I settled down a bit and the rest of the trip improved.

The flight was a bit bumpy and I was not pleased.  The flight attendant came around with a basket of goodies and offered each first class passengar his or her choice.  I know what is in the goody basket and I was looking forward to my snack size Twix and banana.  However.  The guy next to me grabbed the last banana!  Asshat!  I wanted that banana! 

He didn’t eat my banana right away, he put it in his seat back pocket.  I stared at my banana and wondered if there was a way I could created a diversion of some sort and grab my banana out of his possession.  I waited to see if he would go to the lavoratory, giving me the opportunity to not only claim my banana, but eat it before he could tattle on me to the flight attendant.  I waited..  He didn’t go anywhere.  I turned my evil thoughts inward and decided if I couldn’t eat my banana, I would make his ride as unpleasant as possible.

So I pulled my Fiber One bar out of my purse, ate it hurriedly, guzzled the rest of my bottled water, tilted my ass toward him and let the fiber do its job.  I bet he’ll think twice before he grabs the last banana out of the goody basket.

The minute the plane door opened and the Denver air rushed in, I recognized it.  If I were in a room blindfolded, I could breathe in that air and know it was Denver.  There’s no other air that feels or smells like the air in Denver.  That is a good thing on many levels, one of which is there is not enough air in Denver, so I’m glad that is unique to Denver.

I went down the escalator to board the tram to baggage claim.  You know those trams, don’t you?  A spiffed up subway.  As we stopped at terminal B, a family consisting of a daddy and mommy were approaching the tram to get on.  The mommy had a baby less than a year old in her arms along with a huge diaper bag.  As the family approached the trams, the doors started closing.  Dad sped up and jumped into the tram leaving mommy and baby behind.  Mommy started to come through, another passengar on the tram lept to the door as it was closing to keep it from closing on Mommy and Baby.  Mommy jumped back and looked at dad in sheer fright.  He sheepishly grinned at her from inside the tram and shrugged his shoulders.  ASS HOLE.  ASS HOLE.  ASS HOLE.  I was sorry I used all my fiber on the banana guy.

Once I collected my 34 pound suitcase, I went to the rental car curb where the Budget Rental Car bus was waiting.  The bus was less than half full when I got on board.  A family approached the bus and the driver stopped them.  This couple also had a young child and more shit than either one of them could carry.  Stroller, car seat, 3 suitcases, diaper bag, various carry-ons, a hanging bag, I couldn’t figure out how they were transporting it all without a pack mule.

The driver told them the bus was full and they’d have to wait for the next one.  He told a fib.  Our bus was not full.  But honestly, if I were him, I would not have wanted to struggle with all that shit either. 

It is snowing in Denver tonight, a thick wet snow that blows under the awning of the hotel.  I used to come Denver once a month or so but it has been over 2 years since I have been here.  I like Denver, I have missed coming out here.  I think I could live here if they’d just get some more air.

Safety Advice

It is Monday morning!

I have many many things to write about today.  Good things, worrisome things and scary things, however, there is one particular thing that I am worried about more than anything else going on right now.  In my tiny mind, it is a really big thing.  It is bigger than my hypochondria:  I had an MRI last week and will get the results today.  It is bigger than that.  It is bigger than someone breaking in my house last week and me surprising them when I came downstairs.  It is bigger than having the police and Mr. and Mrs. Cravitz come to my rescue in said bad circumstance.  It is bigger than the wonderful spring weather we had this weekend and my first 5 mile run in WEEKS. It is even bigger than the new car I finally FINALLY bought on Saturday.  What, you ask, could be bigger than ALL of that this fine Monday morning?

Here it is:

Dear Northwest Airlines,

I know we haven’t seen each other in a long time.  I have enjoyed keeping up with you on the internet, I see you are doing well as am I.  We have never gone 3 months without being together and in a perversive sort of way, I have missed you.  I have to admit the first few weeks were an adjustment.  You are such a constant in my life it was really weird not being with you.  I handled it the best I could by making myself busy at home.  I kept the laundry done, I cleaned out the junk drawer and I made homemade bread.

I see you carried on as well, working through your merger with Delta, delaying and canceling flights, losing people’s suitcases and playing that game where you make up different rules every week to keep us from getting bored.

But tomorrow we get back together, Northwest, and we will resume our weekly sessions.  Are you looking forward to our reunification?  I am, but I’m also nervous.

You remember, Northwest, that years ago I had serious issues with airsickness.  You remember those days, don’t you?  Ah, yes, the good ole days!  I puked on every flight for 2 years.  I couldn’t sit with a coworker or customer on a flight for fear of barfing on them.  But you were patient, Northwest, and you made sure I had plenty of vomit bags in my seat back pocket.  Thank you for that.  You were much kinder to me than Delta was.  Delta got really mad at me on that horrible propellar plane flight in a thunderstorm from Johnson City to Atlanta.  How did I know there was 2 vomit bag limit per passengar?  And I apologized for making the other passengars around me hurl too.  My assvice to Delta is if you are going to fly propellar planes you might want to adjust your vomit bag to passengar ratio accordingly.

But you Northwest, understood and we worked it out.  You saw me coming and gave me cool wet cloths and gingaerale.  You never complained if I needed more than one puke bag. You never made me feel embarassed or chastised for my problem.  You are truly a friend, Northwest.

But let’s talk about tomorrow, Northwest.  We’ve been together a long time.  We’ve spent a lot of time together, time that I could have spent with my husband and grandchildren.  You’ve rewarded me with frequent flyer miles that got my husband to Hawaii with me and allowed me and my BFF’s to jet about the country for much needed BFF time.   You know I love you with a reluctant, no-choice-really kind of love.  So I am not asking you this to be demanding or mean, I’m asking this because you and I must learn to coexist together.  Our jobs depend on each other.

I love Captain Sulley.  He landed the US Air flight in the Hudson River and as far as I am concerned, he is hero just above the anonymos white water rescuer that pulled me out of the class 4 rapids last year one minute before I was surely going to die.  You’ve heard of Captain Sulley, haven’t you?  You know what happened to that plane, don’t you?  Birds flew into the engines.

Just a few days later, a flight that took off from Denver had to turn around and make an emergency landing when a bird was sucked into its engine.

This concerns me, Northwest.

I am sitting here thinking about jet airplanes and those big engines mounted on the wings.  I know all too well what they look like.

I am thinking of the technology throughout the years that made it possible for people like me to strap themselves into missiles and fly across the country at speeds exceeding rednecks on four wheelers chasing deer through the woods.  The technology and engineering is amazing and hard for a small mind like mine to grasp.

And birds are taking it down.

I haven’t heard of anything the airlines, plane manufacturers, FAA, Homeland Security or our newly elected president are doing together or independently to address this national security issue.  I’m not glued to CNN or anything, but I’m thinking that birds have taken down more planes this year that Al Qaeda.  Am I right?

What are you, doing, Northwest, to address this threat to our safety?  Nothing that I’ve heard so far.

Look, I’m not a rocket scientist or anything, but I have been around birds all my life.  There are ways to keep birds out of places they shouldn’t be.  It doesn’t cost that much either.   While you are paying your engineers bazillions of dollars to study and talk about the problem of birds taking down planes and how to fight this threat to airline passengar safety, may I suggest a simple, cheap, quick temporary solution to keep people like me from puking on your flights out of fear?

The Co-op on the bypass sells chicken  wire by the miles.  It’s cheap, its flexible and a staple gun is the only installation tool needed.  Look, Northwest, all you have to do it put some chicken wire on the front of those engines and the birds will stay out of them.  You can use the chicken wire until you, the airplane manufacturers, FAA, Homeland Security and the newly elected president come up with a million dollar per plane fix for this annoying problem.  You know once the government gets involved, it will take years to get a solution, use the chicken wire until then.

I have to fly tomorrow Northwest.  To Denver.  We already know the birds have attached a plane there, the threat is real.  Make me feel better, put some chicken wire on the engines.

Love,

Frequent Flyer.

I will do this

This should not be something I have to blog about.  I should be able to do this without all the fretting and worrying.

I do realize this is not normal.  Perhaps it is just an irrational fear I have and should seek counseling to resolve.

It is car buying.

I have purchased 2 vehicles on my own in the past 16 years.  There is a disclaimer:  we did purchase (together) a vehicle after my husband had a horrible wreck and totaled his truck.  We went to the local dealership together just to get something he would fit into with his prosthetic device. His accident was so horrible and his prosthesis so painful looking and large, everyone in town knew about us.  The car buying experience at that time was painless.  The guys at the dealership did things for us that they probably don’t do for others, just because no one wanted to be my husband.

The first car buying experience was when gas went up to $1.50 per gallon in 1993.  I had a mini van and was driving 150 miles round trip every day to work.  My exhusband and I were separated.  The mini van was necessary to transport a family of 6, but my family was now down to 3 so I didn’t need the van or the expense of putting gas in it every other day.

I worked in the division of a large regional bank that handled indirect auto loans.  Do you remember when you went into a dealer and applied for a loan and the loan was made by an actual bank?  I was in the division where that loan department was located.  My manager, the SVP of that division, talked with the manager of the indirect lending department and instructed him to get me a deal.  I was rather sheepish and scared about this process.

The manager sent me out to test drive cars and pick out what I wanted.  I picked a 1993 Toyota Corolla.  Stick shift, no bells and whistles, just the basic car.  He approved my loan and I had a good deal.  He sent me to the dealership to sign the papers and pick up my new car.  There was a problem.  The salesman’s boss would not allow the agreed upon amount for my minivan in trade in.  This was a problem as the loan papers had to be redone and the payments recalculated.  The salesman tried to explain to his manager that this had already been worked out with their primary lender – the bank where I worked – to no avail.  I sat in the lobby of the dealership as the new papers were being drawn up with my higher payment with tears streaming down my face.  I felt taken advantage of and cheated.  I was mad and upset.

The higher payment was going to mess up my already tight budget.  I had this worked out – then it got screwed up at the very end.  I was not happy.  I did not have new car excitement when I drove the car off the lot.  I was embarrassed and mad because I was screwed.

Back at work I complained to my manager, who called the dealership and spoke to the general manager, who apologized for me being upset but stated that the person who originally gave me the trade in value on my van was not authorized to make that deal.  Whatever.  They screwed me and we all knew it and no one was going to do anything about it.

I felt a bit of snarky vindication when that dealership went out of business years later.  They were all asshats and didn’t deserve to stay in business.

My next experience was n 1999.  The Corolla was 6 years old and had 226,000 miles on it.  It still ran like a top, but it was time for another car.  I had moved up in my career and needed to show up at client’s locations in something a bit nicer than an old Corolla.  With that many miles on it. I was starting to worry about long trips to see my daughter in college.  It was just time.

I picked out the car that would be my next car 2 years before I decided it was time to buy.  I knew what I wanted, I just had to go find it.  I did it on my own.  I did my research and was ready to do battle.  I did not expect the experience to be good, I expected to get screwed and I was ready to fight.

I knew there would be no trade in on the Corolla.  I might as well give the car away and pay them extra to take it.  I had a down payment instead. I found the exact car I wanted and went to the dealership to fight.  The experience was not as bad nor did I feel as screwed as I did before, but I can’t say I felt hunky dorey about the whole thing.

As the finance guy was punching the numbers in, trying to get me to add this and that so they could make more money, the payment amount kept changing even though I said no to most of his offers.    He looked shocked by the ever changing numbers that were popping up on his screen.  I looked at him with my meanest look and said “what the hell is going here?  Are you trying to rip me off because I am a single woman?”

Oh no, oh no, he was not, his system must be messed up.  I asked him if I needed to leave and come back when his system worked.

He pushed a few more buttons and the payment amount stopped changing.  He printed out the documents for me to review.  I had two items added to the car – a rear spoiler and remote lock/unlock.  The asshat did not tell me that when the remote lock/unlock is not factory installed, it doesn’t work like you think it does. If you lock the door with the remote clicker and try to unlock with a key, it sets the alarm off.  I used the remote locking system for a few years and then had it disabled.  I was tired of hearing the alarm go off.

I felt I escaped that buying experience with most of my ass.  I have enjoyed and loved that car for 10 years now.

It is still running, although it shakes a lot.  It has over 200,000 miles on it.  We plan to keep it as a commuter car for my husband.  When it dies, my husband will resume driving our SUV.

I picked out my next car 3 years ago.  Two years ago, when my car was 8 years old, I said I would buy a car.  That’s as far as I got.  Last January I said I would buy a car.  We went to England instead and I did not buy a car.

This year, no – this SPRING – I am going to buy a car.  I am serious.  I am going to do it.

We have our choices narrowed down to 2.  Last weekend we actually did drive by’s at lots to check out the cars.  We got out and quickly fondled the exteriors of the cars and peeked in the windows.  When we saw salespeople approaching, we jumped in our car and sped off. I have to do this one baby step at a time.

Monday I stopped by a dealership to see if they had a car that met my wish list.  This time I was brave.  I spoke to a salesman.He offered to let me test drive.  I turned red.  I was not ready to take that step.   He did not have my dream car but said if I gave him the list of what I wanted, he find it and get it to his lot for test driving. He was friendly, not pushy, and talked more about football than cars.  I gave him the list.

He called later that day and said he found several cars that met my wish list and to give him 3 days notice when we were ready to test drive.  That gives me another week to get used to the idea of an actual test drive.

Why do I have this fear?  There are people that trade and get new cars every two years.  When I think about people who do that, I think they are stupid with their money.  That is just my opinion and since I am not in Henry Paulsen’s position nor am I a famous and rich financial advisor, don’t be insulted if you are on of those people.

I know cars are not assets, they are liabilities.  To me a car is not a status symbol or an object of love, it is a way to go.  And I have to credit the Sweet Potato Queen author for that bit of wisdom.  I don’t want to drive an 1986 Yugo around but I do not have to purchase a luxury car to feel important or successful.  I will likely end up with a Nissan.  A love object?  Well…I need to LOVE the car to buy it.   I want to LOVE it for a while because, damn, that’s a lot of money.

I’m going to buy a car this year.  Actually, I swear, I am going to buy one in February.  I am, really.

From Current Resident

You know that mail, don’t you?  To Current Resident?

I believe I’m an average consumer, aka Current Resident.  I am not in that really young demographic that the beer advertisements are meant to entice.  However, I am in the demographic of people who are seasoned in their careers, empty nesters, home owners, gainfully employed with disposable income.  I am sure there are companies that really want my money attention so I would like send a shout out to a few companies that have lost my potential money attention recently and explain why, just in case they give a shit.

I am a faithful listener to the country radio station at 107 on the dial.  My 24/7 kitchen and office radios are tuned to 107 and stay on all day and night.  I am sure the advertisers that use 107 to peddle their wares are delighted to know that there are faithful listeners like me out there.

There are times I want to turn off 107.  The afternoons are hard.  They have a female DJ and she is the most obnoxiously clueless and annoying DJ they have.  To be nice, I will say she is not the worst DJ in the world, just the worst on 107.  She laughs at everything she says.  She gives commentary on songs and her commentary sounds like it comes from an Amish minister.   But I stick with her each afternoon, tuning her out when she gets too bad.

I’m trying to remain faithful to 107.  However.  Today I had to turn them off.  I had enjoyed a yoga session in my living room, showered and dressed and walked into the kitchen for breakfast.  I was in a good mood to start the morning in spite of nagging painful back ache, the sinus cold from hell and snot production that rivals a Texas oil rig.  But 107 tried to slap me down by introducing a re-make of an extremely unsuccessful song from a few years back.  The DJ’s went on and on about how wonderful the song was and then played it.

In the Current Resident’s opinion the song was unsuccessful in its original version for a reason.  It is too damn depressing and sad.  It is a whole song about a teenager committing suicide.  Who the hell wants to hear that?  OK, I understand the extreme grief of losing a child, but I can’t imagine hearing a song like that being anything but devastating.  Seriously 107!  Stop that shit!  The Current Resident does not want to start the day crying her contacts out of her eyes and being depressed. And while you’re cleaning up your play list, take off the song about the woman who’s husband kills her in a drunk driving accident so now she gets flowers every day – on her grave.  And we’ve heard enough of that Carrie Underwood song about the funeral.  Stop it please.

If you just MUST play those songs to honor some haranguing agreement with the record labels, why don’t you have a Depression Hour and play them all at once?  That way Current Resident can elect to watch reruns of Green Acres during that time and not be depressed and looking for a bridge from which to jump.

Next.

I’m in the market for a new car.  I bought my last new car 10 years ago and if I’m only going to buy one car per decade, then I am willing and excited about buying something really nice.  However, I am practical and I have my list of “wants” in a new car.

My ideal dream car is an Infiniti coupe.  Oh, how sharp that car looks!  I have had that car on my Next Car list for years.  I have the color picked out, I know the frou frou options I want, yes, I’ve thought long and hard about this.  But I will not be getting the Infiniti.  Why?  It has nothing to do with the exorbiant price or the highway robbery for regular maintenance.  It is really simple:  Infiniti does not have, nor do they seem willing to put cloth seats in their cars.  Nope.  All leather.  I will drive a 1978 Ford Pinto before I place my ass in a leather seat.

I hate leather with a hate that I nurture every day.  Budget Car Rental knows this about me due to unfortunate experiences at their rental counters over the years.  I will not, ever, drive a car with leather seats.  I don’t want to ride with other people who have leather seats, I detest it that much.  But Infiniti apparently thinks people who can afford their cars only want leather.  They are wrong.

I went to my second and third choice cars, a Nissan and a Toyota where I have options for “building” my own car.  This is nice because there are amenities that I really want.  Of course I want a nice radio and speakers, but I want a dock or something built in so tha I can plug in my ipod.  I want a moonroof.  I want power seats and doors and it would be really nice to push a button on a cold morning and have my car start by itself.  For both the Nissan and Toyota, those options are available and considered “premium” which means to get those things, you get leather seats.  Asshats.

I have marked Infiniti off my list.  They have lost a sale.  I hope they are comfortable in their leather chairs.  I feel that I can argue, barter and compromise with Nissan and Toyota and get some of what I want and still be comfortable with my ass in a cloth seat.  We’ll see.

Next

Don’t make it hard for me to buy from you.  There are many companies out there that want my business and make it very easy to buy from them.  Walmart?  Pay attention.  One of my half ass interests is photography. I take tons of pictures and have a nice little digital camera.  I download the pictures to my computer, edit them and then upload them to Walmart for printing.  I have an account set up on line and uploading, although time consuming, is easy.  Ordering is a breeze.

Walmart decided to jack with my on line account yesterday and I could not upload my photos.  Apparently there was some fluke where my password no longer worked.  I clicked on the “email my password to me” button and waited for the email.  And waited.  And waited.  And then tried a new photo printing service instead.  This morning Walmart emailed my password to me but it was 12 hours too late.  I now have an account to print my pictures somewhere else and I may start using this new service all the time.  Sorry Walmart.  Current Resident wants it to be easy.  When you start making it hard, I’m gone.

Current Resident has choices in this economy that we haven’t had before.  We don’t have to buy from you, unless you are the local utility company and therefore have a monopoly.  I don’t have to listen to suicide songs on your radio station.  I don’t have to buy your car.  I don’t have to have my pictures printed by you.  You better watch out.

Ignore the needs and wants of your customers and you may be writing Obama for a bail out.