Another Gray Hair

Chapter 11 for the Tooth Fairy

Ever-dwindling blog no more! I don't know why it is such a struggle for me lately, perhaps for the same reason that it is a struggle for me to peel my arse off of the couch to do anything productive. I need a little motivation.

We all know that our country is in trouble. We've got a ginormous deficit, our banks and lenders are closing down like local grocery stores on the heels of a Wal-Mart grand opening, and our Representatives are likely going to vote to spend $700 billion of our money to rescue our economy from certain doom. While nobody has enough fingers to point at those responsible, the American consumers are certainly near the top of the list. How many people do you know who live in homes they can nary afford? Or drive cars that cost more a month than some mortgages? Or take vacations with limitless budgets and host elaborate birthday parties for one-year-olds? This culture of entitlement and overspending has found its way into the made-up mind of at least one fantasy character: the tooth fairy.

When I was a kid and lost a tooth, I laid it under my pillow before going to sleep and woke up to find a shiny new quarter in its place in the morning. I was thrilled. A WHOLE quarter! My son lost his first tooth yesterday. He put it in an empty Ambien prescription bottle (that's just how we roll around here) and placed it carefully under his pillow. He woke up to find not one, not two, not three, not four but FIVE crisp dollar bills under his pillow. FIVE! I hung my head in shame this morning realizing my mistake. Darn that Tooth Fairy Diva! She's a high-fallutin', over spendin', wracked-with-debt dental fairy with nothing better to do than poison my mind with her mass kindergarten entitlement conspiracy.

Dilation

I had an eye exam today. I've been out of contacts for about 2 months now and for the past few weeks I've been walking around with my super chic fake Chanel shades over my glasses. Admit it. I'm just about the coolest woman you know.

I don't like to have my eyes dilated but, due to some maintenance meds I take, I have to once a year. I got my eyes checked, dilated and prodded in every conceivable manner. I picked out some glasses (post dilation) and got a little seasick looking in the mirror. I shudder to think what I ended up with. They'll probably make me look like Harry Cary but, at least I'll be able to see. Plus, I got some contacts so I can turn my cool meter up a notch when I lose the pair of glasses under my faux Chanels. This was all to the tune of $336.00. That's AFTER insurance people. Holy crap! Eye care is expensive.

My daughter, who accompanied me to the eye exam, insisted that she wear her princess dress and spent the entire time charming the pants off of the staff by twirling and leaping in her fluffy skirt. She left the office with three plastic toys from the prize bowl and an inflated three-year-old ego. I left with a $336 hole in my pocket and some old-lady cataract shades. Go figure.

Conscientious Consumer

I was introduced to a new blogging term yesterday, meme. Wikipedia, the very pinnacle of reliable information, defines a meme as follows:

At its most basic, an Internet meme is simply the propagation of a digital file or hyperlink from one person to others using methods available through the Internet (for example, email, blogs, social networking sites, instant messaging, etc.). The content often consists of a saying or joke, a rumor, an altered or original image, a complete website, a video clip or animation, or an offbeat news story, among many other possibilities. An Internet meme may stay the same or may evolve over time, by chance or through commentary, imitations, and parody versions, or even by collecting news accounts about itself. It is spread organically and voluntarily on a peer-to-peer basis rather than by trickery, compulsion, predetermined path, or completely automated means.

Jennifer Neisslein posted this meme on her blog yesterday:

Here's how it works: post the directions on your blog, tell everyone who tagged you, answer the questions, and tag five or more people. That's it!

The purpose of this meme is to inspire some reflection about how we shop and what we purchase. The idea isn't that consumption itself is somehow bad, but that we all could probably stand to put a little bit more thought into what we buy. And, of course, it's supposed to be fun.

So here goes! Pick a recent shopping trip -- for clothes, shoes, groceries, doesn't matter. The only guideline is that it will be easier to play if you purchased at least a few things.

Now tell us, about your purchases:
1. What are you proud of?
2. What are you embarrassed by?
3. What do think you couldn't live without?
4. What did you most enjoy purchasing?
5. What were you most tempted by?
(This last one may or may not be an actual purchase!)

Given my recent obsession with my family's uncontrollable accumulation of stuff, I thought this would be a good exercise. The best version of myself is a conscientious consumer. I'm not the best version of myself yet but I hope to be soon. Here goes:

About my purchases:

1. What are you proud of? The toys and clothes that I bought at yard sales last weekend. I put them in a storage bin and am saving them for Christmas.
2. What are you embarrassed by? The number of Polo shirts hanging in my son's closet (why do I care so much about that damn horse?) To my credit, though, every one of them was bought at a consignment store or yard sale. I don't buy them new. It's still shameful. If I care then my son is going to care and I don't want that.
3. What do you think you couldn't live without? My food processor. I love that thing.
4. What did you most enjoy purchasing? The ingredients for a vanilla caramel cake that I made recently.
5. What are you most tempted by? Anything with the word, "Clearance" written on it.

My grand conscientious consumer plans include more shopping at yard sales, doing my best to buy American made products—a REAL challenge, reusing and recycling everything and anything I can, purging myself and my family of wearable advertising (polos, GAP shirts, etc…), and shopping less at large retail chains. I have a long, LONG way to go.

Now, tell me about your purchases…

Used Toilets and Debt

It’s tax time ladies and gentlemen. Time to use Turbo Tax, go to the Post Office and use the old school, snail mail forms or hit H & R Block to pay some non-CPA high school grad an exorbitant amount to do your taxes for you. Having two kids has really made the beginning of the year a much more prosperous time for us. We’re getting quite a bit back this year. What are we going to do with it? How much fun will we have with our tax return? Are we taking a lavish vacation? Buying some new furniture? Upgrading my husband’s piece of shit car to a lesser piece of shit car? Nope. We’re paying things off. We’re paying off our cruise, some student loans, and some other bills that we have absolutely nothing to show for.

We epitomize the current young (and sometimes not-so-young) American tradition with an extra strike against us: a single income. We have some debt and some student loans and, while we have enough to pay the bills and live in comfort, we still live just a little bit beyond our means and spend most of our time playing catch up. It’s an uncomfortable existence and one which we hope to expunge in the coming year.

I should reword that to say, “one which I hope to expunge in the coming year.” It is me, after all, who does all of the spending. I pay all of the bills. I do all of the shopping and make most of the choices when it comes to our money. I don’t spend carelessly (most of the time) and I try not to use retail therapy (a very common coping mechanism for my generation) to fill me up. Thankfully, my husband uses Sodoku and the History Channel therapy to self-soothe. He would rather go to the dentist than go shopping and he simply does not care what people think of him. He is a welcome balance to my over-the-top, impulsive, insecure self. Thank goodness he is so frugal.

My husband is, without a doubt, the cheapest person I know. He once came home with a toilet that he found on the side of the road. A TOILET! I asked him what on earth he planned on doing with it and he said that it was in perfect condition and could be sold or used on a future home improvement project. I was horrified. Whose ass had been on that toilet previously? How could I possibly subject myself and my family to a used toilet? He was quick to point out that I have used many toilets in gas stations and fast food restaurants and that, after some Lysol and bleach, there really is no difference. I understood his point but remained bound and determined that neither my arse nor the arses of my children ever graced that commode. Mission accomplished. It now sits in a random apartment in Jacksonville, Florida (we did a brief stint as resident managers of an apartment complex) being used by some poor soul who is oblivious of it’s origin. All kidding aside, my husband is the reason that we are in fairly good condition financially. He keeps me balanced and I’m grateful. I guess toilets from the side of the road and a garage full of other people’s roadside trash is a small price to pay.