Getting Back to Normal

The holidays are, for most--if you're very lucky, a time of indulgence. We eat a little more, we spend a little more, we have a little more bourbon in our glass. I noticed, this holiday especially, that it was more difficult getting back to "normal" than I'd hoped. And, (thanks so much for sharing this) I'm not alone. Whatever commented this week how difficult it was for her to get back to her rules and goals following the holiday splurge. I felt relieved that I wasn't the only one.

Here's what happened to me: On 28th I went to Target for two items, eyeshadow and dishwasher detergent. But as I walked into the store, I fell prey to every marketing ploy that box stores use. Dollar items near the door? Maybe there's something I could use. Purses and wallets on sale? Maybe these will help me be better organized. After all, the Christmas cash was burning a hole in my pocket. I needed to spend it on something, stat.

I picked up a number of items, walked around with them and shopped some more. Then I came to my senses. Purses and wallets weren't why I came into Target. Yes, I'd been considering buying a new wallet for months now, but I don't really need one. Nor did I need a Christmas t-shirt. Or more socks. They were just frivolous impulses that I swore off a couple months ago--years ago, in fact.

For me to give in to my rationalizations to buy, would further erode the rules I've established about spending. And the more I erode those rules, the easier it is to break them in the future. That's really why I had trouble in the first place. I'd spent the days leading up to and following Christmas buying things I didn't really need. That $8.99 shirt from J.C. Penney that I wrapped and put under the tree with Husband's and Step-Daughter's name in the "From" line, that second box of Christmas chocolates on sale for half-price after Christmas, that magazine I'm always tempted by but never satisfied with...they were just things, yet they'd managed to disrupt my normal routines and bleed into my non-holiday life.

There are some Christmas splurges I wouldn't give up, though, just to satisfy my rules (but I would give them up if I had to choose between them and heat for the house, of course.). Most notably, the Christmas cookies and ice cream ingredients. If we didn't have them, what would we leave for Santa. Some traditions, especially those that are limited to a few short years, transcend rules.

Oh, and I managed to make it out of Target relatively unscathed. What can I say? I was hungry for Hot Pockets! I guess my new rule is to always have something cheesy at home and ready to eat.

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Today was not a banner day to restart my food log. Snow day for step-daughter coupled with paying for babysitting with Taco Bell and bribing my husband with junk food to drive me somewhere equals big spendy day.

Breakfast: Oatmeal, peanut butter & banana A great start at 28 cents
Snack: On sale holiday shape cookies 8 cents
Lunch: Gas station hot dot I'm so ashamed $1
Dinner: Taco Bell $2.98
Total: $4.34

What's It Worth to Ya?

I often repeat and sometimes reflect on thrifty colloquialisms I heard growing up. A couple of them came from my grandma via Mom--"He has more dollars than he has sense" and "It's good to want." But if you ever told my parents how much something was "worth," they would respond with something along the lines of, "Well, you gotta find someone who is willing to pay that much for it."

Like beauty, worth is sometimes in the eye of the beholder. Husband can't possibly understand why I am willing, eager even, to pay money to waste time at a sit-down restaurant. I can't comprehend how anyone could pay money to amass the amount of muscular, sculpted, articulated hunks of plastic painted in primary colors and populating multiple cardboard boxes that hog our limited living space. While he finds absolutely no pleasure in slowing down and savoring food, I get heart palpitations when I have to slow down on shopping errands to inspect the artfulness (albeit mass produced) found in the toy aisle.

This evening I engaged in another ritual he doesn't understand--but that's ok, because he's out looking at plastic man-dolls. A weekend evening + house to myself = Christmas come early. I was supposed to go home tonight. But because of scheduling conflicts, I wasn't ready to leave last night. And if I"m not ready to leave on a Thursday evening, I'm not going home until Saturday morning.

One of my favorite things to do on evenings like this is to stop by the grocery store and spend a lot of money on fancy food. I did keep it under control tonight though--less than $20--and incorporate some ingredients I already had at home. I had some of my favorite things for dinner: Smoked Salmon on Wasa with Laughing Cow, cucumber, red pepper, green onion and tapanade with some white wine my parents gave me. A three course dessert followed: dried figs and feta; Christmas cookies; and my Christmas bonus (three fancy chocolates--I accidentally squashed one on the way home.)

All this was accompanied by trashy tv on my computer (Thanks, Bravo, for the Real Housewives, but I don't think I can handle them anymore.) and a magazine.

There are a couple of magazines that I always am tempted to buy at the check-out line: Real Simple and In Style. Why do they appeal to me? I have no idea. They are both just ways to shill stuff--I'm not talking about the ads either. I mean, I have an adequate citrus juicer that I hardly ever use. I don't need a $67 stainless-steel one, no matter how artful you say it is. Besides, it's good to want.

This month, however, Real Simple's cover promised to help me "be happier" in 2011. I gave into temptation. And I must say, $25 for a nice, low-key evening alone, with leftover food and leftover articles to read? While it may prove that I have more dollars than I have sense, I'll claim temporary insanity. I'm the person who, on occasion, will pay that much for a quiet, solitary floor picnic. To me, it's worth it.

I'm Declaring Every Day Thanksgiving

I had a different blog post half-written for today, but something happened at work that got me thinking thinking thoughts. It all started innocently enough, with the only man in my office sharing via email a somewhat humorous advertisement for the JC Penney's jewelry counter.

My boss responded, with a "funny" story about how one time her husband got her a vacuum cleaner for Christmas and a toaster for her wedding anniversary. Sometimes it's just better to get nothing at all! Now let's all lol!

Except I wasn't feeling very lol-y. One of my co-workers responded, in a self-deprecating way, that she would welcome the gift of a vacuum cleaner. I didn't respond at all. If I had, it would have been something like, "Oh, yes, that is so funny. I hate it when someone spends over $200 on something that I need and would use, thereby saving me from having to spend that money. I'm so glad my husband doesn't have a job so he can't get me something expensive like a vacuum cleaner. This commercial is so right on!"

The more I thought about it, the more lathered up I got. I'd heard this story once before from the boss. That time, it was prefaced with, "We don't buy each other gifts anymore. If we want something, we just go out and get it ourselves." Well, isn't that a nice thing to do WHEN YOU HAVE THE MONEY TO GO BUY WHATEVER YOU DAMN WELL PLEASE.

Sidebar: I'm trying very hard not to virtually burn my boss in effigy in this blog post. Let me just put it this way, have you ever read GOOP, you know Gwyneth Paltrow's lifestyle blog where she's all, "My friend Mario Batali says you should only eat mushrooms from northern Italy that have been discovered by midgets who can find them better because they're closer to the ground. At $500 per ounce, these are a bargain!" and "I think everyone should have their own personal uniform. It makes it easier to start your day when you know your style can take you from dropping the offspring of myself and singer-songwriter Chris Martin off at school to a lunch meeting with movie producer and my godfather, Steven Spielberg, at The Connaught Bar to a night out with my very good friend Vince Gill after we sing together onstage at the Country Music Awards. I put mine uniform together with the help of my good friend and fashion designer Stella McCartney." Like she hasn't even imagined that some people can't afford a Christmas get-away to Puerta Vallarta, much less being able to dine in the best restaurants once you're there? On a less ostentatious scale, that is my boss.

Sidebar #2: I also was thinking about how we are so politically correct about everything. Maybe we should all stop and think about being a little more politically correct about money. I mean, if I were to go deaf tomorrow, I hope my boss wouldn't try to share a CD of an amazing Christmas cantata. You know, this is the lady to whom I had to confess that we wouldn't be able to afford to put my husband on my health insurance plan. I didn't say, "We just like to gamble," I said, "We just can't afford it." It's not like she doesn't know. But I'm probably just being too sensitive...

Once I got over being bitter about it, I started thinking about how that commercial paints us, as wives, as husbands, as white middle-class, as Americans. It is pretty awful, if you think about it. The man thinks he can purchase something to make the woman's life easier--a flawed premise, if you ask me. The woman is so ungrateful that she throws the man in prison. Wow, how many people out there would love, love to be able to afford a fancy vacuum cleaner, or any vacuum cleaner at all, or the house to use it in?

So I'm putting my foot down. I may not be able to get this through Congress, but I can get this through to the what four? of you that read my blog regularly. Thanksgiving may very well be the best American invention ever. It deserves better than the fourth Thursday of November. It deserves better than turkey and dressing (and the good macaroni & cheese--you know who you are!). Thanksgiving should be every day. We should reflect on all the many, many, many blessings we have not just on one day, but on every day. If we can't be bothered to marvel at our own good fortune and give thanks for it, we all deserve to be in the dog house.
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Breakfast: Oatmeal and free blueberries (Thanks, Mom, for your hard work in picking and preparing those berries and for sharing them with me.) 11 cents
Snack: Granola bar (I'm very thankful to Smitten Kitchen for sharing the recipe for these granola bars with the internet.) 21 cents
Lunch: Enchilada (How blessed I am to be able to just stop by the grocery store on my way home from work to pick up what I need to make enchiladas for dinner any night I want!) 99 cents
Dinner: Massive Amounts of Junk (I may not be able to afford much, but if I feel the desire to go to the grocery store for some stress-eating foods, I am thankful that I can blast my food budget out of the water and get whatever junky stuff sounds good.) I ate some chocolate covered peanut butter sandwiches that cost about $1.40 and a hot pocket that cost $1.25 and some jalapeno popper things that were about $1.50.

Total: $5.45

And I'm thankful that I have great friends who read this blog, not because I'm the picture of virtue and perpetually upbeat, but because I'm bound to fail occasionally, get down about it, and pick myself up. We all do it. That's just what makes us interesting.

So, a day early and every day after, what are you thankful for?

Role Reversal

For much of my childhood, I lived in a one-income household. My mom rocked as a SAHM. I mean, she kept me in stitches--literally. (Except when she made me stand very still and try on a garment that was still pinned together.)

I had some friends whose moms worked. I was both envious of days spent with other kids at "the babysitter's" and confused as to why that was necessary at all. We weren't wealthy. We lived in a rural area in a small town and we did better than ok. We could afford Great American Roadtrips in a rented RV to see Great American Things every few years. Like many kids, we had more toys than we could play with in a day. Sure, I wore my brother's hand-me-downs and rode a brown boy's bike with a banana seat during my early bike riding years, but I kinda thought everyone did.

I don't know if this was the typical one-person-working-outside-the-home 1980s family life. It may have been a little Walton-y. Mom got up early and fixed breakfast. We all sat at the table together, said our prayers, and ate. We made our Halloween costumes ourselves and went 20 miles to Walmart to pick out a pattern and material for Christmas and Easter dresses. We picked strawberries and green beans and peas and corn and tomatoes and anything else that grew in the backyard garden. In the summer, Saturday morning cartoons were always accompanied by shelling peas or snapping green beans, the rest of the year, we folded laundry with the Smurfs and Snorkels. In the winter, we were sent downstairs to grab a jar of green beans or tomatoes or a pack of corn from the freezer. These came out of our garden in the summer and were put up by Mom and were a thousand times better than cans from the store. We knew how lucky we were when we spooned up hot, golden, sweet "real" corn for dinner. We didn't know that the few cents it saved helped us to have such great present bonanzas at Christmastime. Mom ran the house and Dad worked hard, bringing home the check and handing it over to the coupon clipper and sale shopper.

But times, they are a'changing. I know a lot of stay-at-home men, these days. Most have a woman wage-earner but not all. Our neighbor is a stay-at-home dad. Our friend has been out of work for over a year. My friend's ex and my other friend's boyfriend are both unemployed. And the husband. Likewise, the first rider of my boy's bike was out of work for a few weeks. All are or were out of work for different reason. Nonetheless, it's a scary economy and it seems to have hit the men I know harder than the women.

I'm sure it must be hard for the dudes. The husband has been through bouts of unemployment before but I think having a partner that does get up and go to work every day must make it harder. He's much more interested in what happened at my work. He wants to show me all his accomplishments when I get home. (And they are many and somewhat impressive.)

It is hard not to be jealous of those accomplishments because they are so much more tangible than anything I do at work. It's not that I ever wanted to stay at home, although I admit, I get more satisfaction out of gardening and home chores, big and small, than I do at work. But it is kind of hard to reconcile the role reversal of having a stay-at-home husband, even when I hope this is temporary. There are things I expect him to do and to be, because they are the things that (from experience) I expect from the stay-at-home half.

I expect him to be better at the whole idea of home economics. But he's not the most thrifty person. Like when I sent him to the grocery store Monday morning to pick up some lunch meat for the step-daughter and he returned with the cheap lunch meat and the expensive pre-made muffins and flavored milk. Or when he grabs a sandwich with friends and wants to go to the movies. (Although the popcorn was totally my fault.) He's made great strides at curbing his impulse spending on bigger ticket items, but not in the little ways that add up over time.

Also, he's hopeless in the kitchen. I think he doesn't eat lunch and he has no earthly idea what is in the refrigerator. I don't know if: a) he's actually not hungry, b) he just forgets, c) it doesn't occur to him that there is something he could eat in the refrigerator, or d) he can't figure out what to do when he opens it so he doesn't bother. It's probably e) all of the above. I asked him to flip my grilled cheese sandwich Wednesday and he said, "How am I supposed to do that?" with some incredulous panic in his tone. I said, with equally incredulous disgust, "Good grief!" (Or I might have taken the Lord's name in vain.) He figured it out.

Sometimes, I want to come home from work and follow my dad's lead: eat the dinner that is waiting for me, grab a beer, and settle in for some television. But at the same time, boring, plus I know I can't hang a door or do body work on the old car like the husband does. The things that I want the husband to do are the things that I can bring to the table. And I know I would be a wee bit jealous and would flounder to figure out my role if someone were to take over those jobs.

In the end, what I know is that we have to find our own way in this world as a team. It's not about fitting into an outdated prescription. I want to bring home the bacon and fry it and give the husband the opportunity to find a life's work that is enjoyable and fulfilling. And if I can put a dinner on the table that I grew part of in the garden and used coupons to get the rest; if I can make the husband stand very still while I pin up a hem to sew in his pants; if I can dazzle my step-daughter with my crafty costume making skills; and if I can occasionally sit down with a bourbon and a tv show after a hard day's work, then I know that I've learned a thing or two from both my role models and I've made a way for myself that fits me perfectly--even if it is still held together by pins.
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Breakfast: Waffle with butter and syrup 40 cents
Lunch: 1/2 c taco soup and corn dog 93 cents
Snack: granola bar 27 cents
Dinner: miner's casserole and poor man fancy snacks 75 cents

Total: $2.35