Drum roll, please. (The Stitch Fix delivery)

I wrote that I was going to try Stitch Fix because I dislike shopping and generally don't know what looks good, not only on me but in general.

Yesterday, I got my first delivery in the mail.

I am keeping all 5 pieces.
They come out to be $34 per piece, and considering I'll likely wear them for the rest of my life (because I do this if something feels comfortable), I think that is a bargain.

I was very specific in my notes about textures (G isn't the only one in the family with texture sensitivities) and what I would be doing in the clothes (substitute teaching so I need them to be moveable).

The pants feel wonderful. I had requested ankle-length (since I already have a pair of boot-cut pants that I really like). One pair of pants is black; the other is navy with a small pattern to it.

Now, because I tend to be a minimalist, and cheap, at heart, Stitch Fix isn't something I'm going to use all the time. Maybe every six months.
But I did like that it allowed me to avoid something I dislike doing (shopping) and was, ultimately, a time saver.
(Not having to go from store to store in search of something saves my gas and time.)

If there is a downside to this experiment, it is taking pictures of myself and realizing that I am getting that middle-age look about my body.

Plans for today: the gym
Also, locate Fountain of Youth.

Stitch fix (how I think this will go down)

I do not shop for clothes with any regularity.
It's not something I enjoy doing.
I am fashion-challenged.

If I went through my wardrobe, I expect at least 30% of the items are things that people have given me, either as gifts or as hand-me-downs.

This is a photo of all the clothes in my closet. 

The ones to the left are hand-me-downs/gifts. 

The upside of this is that the items are free, which works well with my cheap-as-hell spending philosophy.
The downside is that I don't love some of the items, or I realize after wearing them a few times that they really don't look great on me.

I did purchase two tops recently, and I think they sum up my fashion sense:

From The Loft

From Hot Topic

My fashion sense is basically "the mullet" of clothes--some version of "party on the bottom; business on the top" or the reverse. 

I met a friend for lunch this week, and she had on a really cute outfit that looked great on her. She does Stitch Fix, so I thought I would try it. 

On Stitch Fix, they ask you to provide information on not only your size but your fashion likes and dislikes.

Mine went something like this:

I'm a bit sensory-challenged. I like things really comfortable and soft. I do not like Supima cotton--it feels too stiff and scratchy to me. I only want to buy clothes about once a year. I would like a nice pair of comfy work pants for subbing. I would like to try a pair of tighter ankle pants; the ones I have flare at the ankle (bootcut?). I do not like khaki pants or navy blue. I don't want earrings, necklaces, or shoes. I am 45-years-old and beginning to not like my arms, so I prefer something with sleeves. 

I don't know how clothing goes together. The thin tops, for example. Do you wear a tank under them? A t-shirt? A camisole? I really don't know. 

Stitch Fix has this spinning wheel of fashion--you give outfits a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. 

Suffice it to say, I was thumbs-downing A LOT. 

I have a feeling the "stylist" will email me something like this:

You are impossible. Go buy a potato sack. 

Dress code saga #68,082

As much as I hate dress codes, especially strict ones on paper that administrators do not actually enforce, which is just like empty-threat parenting, there is a silver lining to them (which I will get to in a little bit after venting for 40 paragraphs).

I took N shopping on Wednesday evening to attempt to find something to wear for the homecoming dance.

This adventure has made me think my entrepreneurial goal should be to open portable wine bars in juniors dress departments for the moms.

Moms in juniors departments are dealing with all sorts of emotional stress and would do well to take the edge off with a glass of pinot noir. In addition to the panic of spending $100 on a dress their daughter may only wear once, they are experiencing shame and guilt for what they put their own mothers through in shopping trips. Plus, there is the anxiety induced from dress codes.

This is what the dress code notice that has been in every high school email I've been sent for the last eight weeks should say:

Girls' dresses can be no more than 1 inch above the top of the knee.
(Just kidding. We are going to let LOTS AND LOTS of girls into the dance wearing dresses that come 4-5 inches above their knees.)

While N and her friends were dancing, I was doing a reconnaissance mission of my own with a little help from another high school mom.

I now have an album of photos of girls who went to homecoming in dresses that were higher than one inch. This album will never be used unless or until N gets any comment about her dress at a dance or is denied admittance.

This album of photos of what the school has allowed into dances will then be submitted as Evidence, Exhibit A.

I was very strict when N tried on dresses on Wednesday night because this was her first dance at the high school, and I didn't know if the dress code was actually enforced or empty-threat. There were tears from N, but I told her that I would rather have her cry in a store than at the dance when she is denied entry after having spent money on a dress and time getting ready.

No mother particularly wants her kid to cry, but if I have to pick a time and place, I know which one I will select.

N happened to find a super adorable jumpsuit that I think looked pretty stunning on her. D said she looked "statuesque." She was super pumped that it had pockets (she is related to her maternal grandmother).

So what was the silver lining of this whole mess of consumerism?

Three things:

1. N bought something that was unique and showed off her "I'm not like the other girls" attitude. She stood out.

and

2. It provided me an opportunity to instruct N in dressing for her body. As tall and thin as she is, the pantsuit made her look even taller and thinner, accentuating something that is lovely about her. It takes women a lifetime to realize what is wonderful about their bodies, so I hope our conversations on Wednesday helped her see that being tall and thin are enviable (especially when she gets into middle age, she'll be so very glad for that height).

and

3. Even though the dress code is bullshit, life is all about wading through bullshit. Case in point is the 90 hours of observations I'm having to do for the grad class as if I've never set foot in a classroom and have no experience. Life is not fair--dress codes are not fair--grad class requirements are not fair....but there they are, so you bitch about it and then suck it up and deal with it in whatever way you are able, with the goal being to deal with it so splendidly that people admire your tenacity, your unique ability to do what needs to be done in a creative and uniquely you way.

Dress codes for girls can kiss my ass

Here is what it is like to be a girl.

Select a dress for a dance. It has to be finger-tip length (meaning when you hold your arms down, it has to be as long as your fingertips on your leg or longer). Said dress meets this qualification.

Since your mother is cheap, and this dress costs more than she'd like, she says you have to wear the dress to both the dance AND your graduation. Mother is striving to not raise an entitled child.

Even the Duchess of Cambridge wears her stuff twice.

Wear the dress to your middle school dance. No administrator or teacher says anything about it being too short or too tight.

After buying this dress, you get notice that the graduation dress requirement is 2 inches above the knee. You don't pay any attention to this because it is March.

There is snow on the ground. Who the hell is thinking about May?

Fast-forward to May. You get another reminder that dresses have to be 2 inches above the knee. Girls start panicking. Is my dress ok? Is my dress too short? Will they let me walk if I show up in whatever I've already spent money on and WORE ALREADY TO A BLANGED SCHOOL DANCE AT WHICH NO ONE SAID ANYTHING???

Anxiety is so pervasive it jumps to mother. Mother emails counselor explaining that this dress was bought in February, and we aren't the Kardashians and don't buy a new outfit for every occasion. Also, seeking clarification on how to successfully SHORTEN DAUGHTER'S LEGS????

Two inches above the knee means entirely different things depending on whose legs you are talking about. And is it 2 inches from the top, middle, or bottom of the knee area?

Review the dress code that also includes.....
No prom dresses.
No jeans.
No backless.
No thin straps.
A sweater over bare shoulders.

Daughter goes shopping with friends while waiting to hear back from counselor as to the acceptability of dress. Plan is to purchase a top to go with an already-owned black skirt in case counselor insists on this insanity.

Mom and daughter have conversations like this via text:

Daughter: Would this work or is it too low cut?

Mom: That's cute. Heck, I don't know what is acceptable. I think the cut is fine. Are the shoulders ok?

Daughter: (Sends this picture. Apparently, we measure things at the school with 2 inches and 3 fingers.)

This is the kind of shit that girls do. Measure their legs. Measure their dresses and shorts. Measure the width of their tops. Make sure their bodies aren't too bare, too sexy, too whatever it is that bothers society so much.

To her mother, she looks like a 14-year-old in a peach-colored age-appropriate dress that is among ALL THE OTHER DRESSES IN THE STORES.

As my neighbor said, "1926 called. They want their dress code back."

ISO: A burqa to wear to this graduation to protest just how ridiculous these dress codes are to the entire half of the 8th-grade population known as FEMALES.

Cool as a cucumber EXCEPT when it comes to back-to-school shopping

People with OCD are often accused of being particular, but I have found that they often aren't any more particular than regular people. They have their oddities, for sure, but these are generally not of the "shallow stuff variety" like M&M colors or which way the danged toilet paper roll goes on the holder, which is what regular people often get their panties in a twist about.

I mean, there are freaking memes about that junk.

I do not have to have M&Ms sorted, and I am just glad someone other than me PUT the toilet paper ON the holder so I have never understood how these things are attributed to OCD-ness.

I'm sure having children has led me to become more relaxed about things.  I don't care what my kids' hair looks like provided it is trimmed and clean (and clean is a relative term). I don't especially care what they wear provided they and their clothes are clean (or relatively clean).

Twice this past year, I have had two people refer to me as being "cool as a cucumber," which I think is both HILARIOUS and appropriate.

I have never thought of myself as a cool as a cucumber-type person because I tend to be pretty excitable, but it is over weird stuff.

One time I was referred to in this way related to how I am as a substitute teacher, and this is probably true. I try very hard to stay completely unflustered by students because that is exactly (especially if they are of the middle-school persuasion) what they want. It is better for me to look bored and ask, "Are you done?" than to get myself all in a kerfluffle. Whispering in their ear, I've found, is far more effective than making a scene which gives them no choice but to make a scene back.

The other was in reference to VBS. My motto is, "Unless I'm getting paid for something, I am not going to worry about it too much." It will all work out, so I'm not going to sweat it much.....or at all.

When it comes to school supplies, however, I am fairly laid back and always have been. I never cared (and still don't) what colors and kinds of notebooks or folders or pencils my students use...whether they are my actual students or my children who are students and for whom I purchase the supplies.

Perhaps in some parallel universe and in some naturally highly organized Earth children, they say, "Oh, blue folder goes with blue notebook," but my experience is that kids are generally idiots who have to be savagely beaten into noticing stuff like this. Any old pencil, notebook, and folder will do when they are asked to get out a pencil, notebook, and folder. I wanted to utilize every second of classroom time and not waste it dicking about with colors of notebooks or whether someone had a pencil.  Find a friend or write with a crayon, but let's go--we got shit to learn.

I have learned to not buy N anything until after the first day of school. When she began 6th grade, I purchased from the "general supply list" and then had to go back out again and purchase plastic folders instead of paper ones since her teacher didn't like that the paper ones fall apart.

Where I am not as cool as a cucumber is on the purchasing end of the school supply thing. I get immensely aggravated at other people's persnicketiness that I have to deal with in a store. I find myself wandering around Staples mumbling things like, "Why don't they just ask for chartreuse notebooks?  How impossible are those to find?  And what is wrong with BLACK notebooks? Is everyone prejudiced against BLACK notebooks?"

I CANNOT HARDLY WAIT for N to start high school so that she can wear regular clothes and I no longer have to drive to every store in town to find uniform pants that fit her in the legs, are not so low-waisted that they ride up her nether regions, that are also the "right" shade of khaki that do not look like jeans, and do not cost $40.

Of course, just as she is getting out of uniforms, G will soon be moving into them which will be an entire blogging thread of disgust and non-cucumber-like behavior. 

The slow breaking down

So much of the stuff in our house is going through the slow breaking down.  Various items aren't dead, and in most cases, they aren't even on their last legs....well, maybe they are, and we are just keeping them on life support and don't realize it.  

Our living room television is one such item.  

Once it warms up, it is fine, but the screen looks crazy for about the first 15 minutes.  It has been this way for a number of years, and we haven't replaced it because to borrow a Monty Python line, "it's not dead yet."

My washer and dryer are another two examples.  They are loud, squeaky and annoying, but they still clean and dry ok, so we are listening to the loud, squeaky and annoying sounds. 

The Roman shade in the master bedroom broke so that if we do try to raise it, it is lopsided, so we just don't raise it.  

There is a part of me that would really just love to go out and buy new stuff.  Replace the shade with plantation shutters.  Buy a new washer/dryer combo which really isn't too terribly expensive since  I only wash with cold water, and I only dry on low, so I don't need steaming and turbo-super-active-wash and hyper-sensitive-sensational-dry.  Our 40" tv could be replaced for much less than what we purchased it for however-many years ago we purchased it.  

But to do that would make me feel guilty.  

I know it is just stuff, but I went through a period in my 20s where I read all the comics in the newspaper because I felt like Gil Thorp and Apartment 3-G would get their feelings hurt if I didn't read them, too, so it is within my worldview to feel irrational about nonliving entities.  I really want to thank Siri when she sends voice texts for me, but I stop myself and then feel bad about it.  

But that isn't the real reason we haven't replaced these no-longer-giving-100% household items.  

The first reason is the spending money.

The second (and real) reason is a real moral conundrum.

I am having deep thoughts about both the intrinsic value of older things versus the place where you know an older thing's time and contribution is over.  And even though on the surface, it is about my washer and dryer and television, it is really about my parents and myself and Papaw Chester.   

I have been considering the steps that people take in order to extend their lives.  I do not judge others for whatever choices they make, but I am definitely mulling over what choices I might make should the choice ever need to be made.  We can often extend life for a very long time beyond what is actual, qualitative living.  

Papaw's house is cleaned out and going on the market tomorrow.  I have some of his walking sticks that are waiting for me to polyurethane them.  

I have his pillows made from his shirts throughout the house.  

I have a pile of photo and whatmenots in the basement waiting to be sorted through. 

It has been sad to see the remnants of his life....what was left when he left.  I do not and never will understand when families get their panties in a wad over the stuff that remains after a loved one dies.  The most important thing is gone so who gives a fuck about the rest of it?  

Papaw Chester was in decline, but still carrying on.  He wasn't sick but he was well within the slow breaking down.  

Like my washer and dryer and television.  

My parents are healthy but advancing in age.  

I am healthy but advancing in age.

The slow breaking down happens to most of us.  

At what point do you keep sticking it out and at what point do you decline to try to fix it?

I have yet to meet an appliance (or an automobile) that just dies, that just falls down dead the way Papaw Chester did.

Most of them drag their owners through a slow hemorrhage of expense and frustration and noise-making and half-cleaned clothes or overcooked food.  

I'm not sure I want to drag others along in a slow hemorrhage of expense and frustration or be a part of the process myself.  

Whether it is household items or humans.  

Blame it on James

On Saturday, I ordered a dozen cookies from a local bakery.  The cookies were to be of the sugar variety with red icing and black #9s on them (for the 9th birthday boy).

When I went to pick them up yesterday, I was told there was no order for me.
I asked, "Um, is there a James who works here?  Because James took my order."

The gentleman who was helping me scurried around a bit in the back, and then walked toward me and asked, "Was the order for 12 dozen cookies with red icing and black 9s?"

I said it was for a dozen (and we all know 12 is a dozen), but, yes with red and black and 9s.

This man, named Walt, then showed me the order form, which wasn't an order form at all.  James had written my order incorrectly on the back of a receipt.  He had failed to put my name or phone number on it.  No one paid any attention to it on the desk because it wasn't an order form.

I asked, "Can you please thunk James on the head for me?"

The gentleman called two other bakeries in the franchise to see if they could make my cookies by late afternoon.  Fortunately, one of them was able to make my order.

I told this story to D and the kids last night and said if the cookies tasted bad to "blame it on James."

N farted at the table and said, "Blame it on James."

From here on it, if it sucks or doesn't go the way we like, it is all James' fault.

The Great "Return to School" Purge

Fortunately, the start of every school year coincides with a seasonal kids consignment sale I participate in.  The first days of school for the kids mean I get to go through all their crap and decide what gets sold.

It is very disheartening to me when I begin this process.  I haven't even gone through their toys and games, and I have loaded 99 items into the consignment inventory.  That is 99 pieces of clothing, shoes, and books.

After entering these 99 items, I went back to the boys' room and pulled out probably 10 more books and a set of sheets that is pretty babyish given that the baby will soon be 7 years old.

The kid-stuff purging results in a general all-around purging in my house.  I start tossing everything and really looking with as objective-as-I-can-get-them eyes.

I ask myself these questions:

Are these items of any legitimate use to me?
How long has it been since we've used these items?
If these items have been sitting in a pile for 6-8 months, what is the likelihood that I will actually use them for anything other than pile-sitting?
Do I really like these items at all?  

What astounds me is that I don't really like to shop and, yet, we still have all this stuff.

It is usually at this point that I think about what a terrible pioneer I would be for many reasons, but most of all because I couldn't get everything I own into one wagon.  

Living like a millionaire is easier if you hate to shop

I do not like to shop.

My mother, who also doesn't like to shop, and I are hilarious on the occasions when we do go shopping.  We walk in, arms folded, and scan the joint.  If it doesn't jump out and beg us to buy it, we leave empty-handed.  If it does jump out and beg us to buy it, it has to be on clearance or on sale to be granted the privilege of riding home in the car.

Some people enjoy the browsing.  Even if they have no intention of buying it, they will look at it.  They may very well look at everything.  I do not subscribe to this activity as being enjoyable.  If I have zero desire for it, I do not want to see it.

There are occasions when being a person who enjoys shopping would be great, like when I'm buying a gift for someone.  I am so darned practical it isn't funny.

A friend invited me to a Favorite Things party, in which you bring 3 of something you love to share with others.  I brought 3 bottles of hipster beer and 3 small hand sanitizers.  (I think there was something else, but I can't remember....maybe small packs of Kleenex?)

This is not to say that there aren't occasions when money seems to fly from my hands, but it is immediately followed by an austere saving period, when I don't want to buy anything.  It is like overloading on rich chocolate and then feeling sick and not wanting anything sweet to eat for a very long time.

After writing my last post about millionaire living, I was reminded how I have dropped the ball on a financial goal that D and I have had for a long time.  We've been in our house 15 years, and have refinanced our mortgage a couple times (to take advantage of when those interest rates were dropping like monsoon rain).  The last time we refinanced (at the end of 2011), we took a 15-year-mortgage and said our goal was to have our house paid off before N goes to college.

As the person in the house who handles the finances, I sorta got distracted by my desire to upgrade things in the house.  We got new flooring in the basement after Shanks shat all over the place, and my OCD could not handle the brown stains on the light beige berber carpet.  Then, due to cat urine smell in the furniture, I had the couch and chair reupholstered.  Then we bought coordinating end tables for the living room (which we had never purchased).  Then the bathroom remodel.  Lots of spending, spending.

We've always paid something on the principal of our mortgage, but I hadn't been hitting it as hard in the past two years or so.  It is hard, even for me, to save up a bunch and then drop it on the principal.  You know you are doing something smart with it, but you have nothing tangible to show for it.  It is a huge delayed gratification investment.  You think, "YES, I've shaved 1 month off my mortgage which I won't see until 2054."

So, I've got a new idea I'm going to try out to both pay on the principal and not feel like I'm taking huge chunks out of saving.  I've decided that every time I go to Kroger, I will take $20 out in cash.  Once I have $100 (at the end of every month), I will go put it on the principal.  In one year, I will have paid $1040 on the principal.

I'm hoping that this will work, and seeing the declining balance will induce me to maybe pull out $40 at a time, which won't feel as painful as taking $2080 out of an account and putting it on the principal balance.

Reality check:  On Saturday, I was running errands....school supply shopping and whatnot, and I listened to This American Life on Greek refugees.  It makes me feel ashamed to even be writing posts like this when I have so much and I dither over where to put our abundance.  I try to remind myself that this is my reality, even if, in comparison, it seems shallow.  

I think I need another savings account

I am financially conservative, but I intentionally violate a practice that I often hear suggested by other financially conservative people (like Dave Ramsey):

I use a credit card for as many of my purchases as possible except groceries.  

(But we pay off our credit card every month.  So far in my life, I've never carried a balance from one month to another).

I have a very good reason for using my credit card a lot.  Actually I have two.  

I. Putting it on credit card provides me a record of what I've spent, where I've spent it, and the date on which I spent it.  

I know myself, and I know that on the occasions that I spend cash, I end up having no idea what I spent money on.  The cash is gone, and I cannot remember where it went.  What did I buy?  Where did I buy it?  And I hate that feeling of having no idea where the $50 in my wallet went.  

If I put it on credit card, I save the receipt.  All credit card receipts go in a special "Credit Card" folder above my desk.

(I also use my debit card for expendables, like groceries or household cleaning items, for this same reason:  a paper trail for me to notate in my checkbook.)

II. Putting it on credit card provides me with cash back bonuses.

Every time we have a cash back bonus, I funnel the money into our Christmas savings account.  In the past year, I've put over $500 into that account from cash back.  That is $500 of essentially free money to me (and it is free to me because I don't carry a credit card balance from month-to-month and don't pay anything beyond 0% in interest.)

I feel like I'm violating a code of frugal people by admitting this.  I may be shunned.

Here is another financially conservative faux pas of mine:  I don't use the envelope system of saving.

The "envelope" system has never been appealing to me.  I tried to institute a virtual envelope system years and years ago.  I would earmark a certain amount of money in various categories each month.  Ultimately, at the end of the month, I would need to buy milk and give myself 40 kinds of guilt and grief because I didn't have any money left in my "grocery" virtual envelope, but we were totally out of milk and needed it.  I may have had $500 sitting in all of my other envelopes not being used for anything, but I felt terrible taking $3 to get milk.  D thought this was ludicrous.

Eventually, I did too, and I decided to come up with a better system for us.

That system is to squirrel a bunch of money into various savings accounts.  I think it is called something like the 80/20 rule.  We have the following:

Escrow--we pay our mortgage and homeowners/car insurance out of this
House-- for repairs/maintenance and improvements
Car-- for repairs/maintenance and, assuming we can ever save a sizable chunk, for the purchase of     other cars when ours conk out.
Fun-- for vacations, concerts, performances
Medical-- for medical costs.
Christmas-- for Christmas gifts/expenses

The money leftover is used to pay utilities and groceries.  Anything beyond that.....fair game.

I have been thinking lately that we might need to add another savings account category, which would be Clothing.  We definitely don't spend a lot of money on clothes, but inevitably, everything hits at once.  In June, N needed soccer cleats.  We also had two rounds of family photographs, so I needed to buy some things for those.  The boys had outgrown their summer pajamas, so I had to purchase some of those.  Even if you find sales or shop consignment (as I do), when you are purchasing for three kids, it adds up.

I do keep a budget using mint.com, and that allows me to see how much, on average, we spend in various categories.  The one thing I don't like about mint is that when we do spend a bunch of money on something (like the bathroom remodel for which we paid cash), it puts us in the red, which makes me feel like we've been horribly irresponsible people.  It doesn't matter if we had saved $16,000 for the past however long to be able to do that remodel and spend that money.  That part screws with my money psychology.

I guess there is no perfect system....you just have to find the system that allows you to save and spend in the most efficient and non-guilt- and stress-inducing way for your family

The constant quest for frugal living

I often wonder about other people's finances.

When I was getting my oil changed at Valvoline, the guy at the computer (not the guy under the hood) and I somehow got to chatting about spending money.....I think it stemmed from my comment that we will drive the minivan forever so we have to take care of it (it is at 140,000 miles right now).  He said that he and his wife are into guns and will sometimes drop 6K on three guns.  He also said that he says he will keep a car for a long time, but it seems like every three years he gets a new one.

I left this conversation with a lot of questions that I was too polite to ask, like:

*I wonder how much he and his wife make per year?

*I wonder how much savings they have?

*I wonder how much debt they have?

*I wonder if D and I do something wrong because I don't feel like we have 6K to just drop on something like a gun (which seems to me like a kind of non-investment-like purchase....but maybe I'm incorrect).

*I wonder if this guy was just blowing smoke up my tail?

I think how people spend/save their money is as taboo a topic as sex, and I'm not sure why.  On the one hand, neither is anyone else's business.  On the other hand, we all want to know what everyone else does.  Are we normal?  On the rare occasions when I've been in conversations about either money or sex, I find that I leave feeling better about whatever it is I am/we are doing.  If nothing else, whatever they are doing isn't something I want to do so I leave feeling ok about my/our choices.

It isn't easy to be frugal when I feel like everyone else is getting, buying, having, and I feel like we are always saving, saving, saving.  Of course, I know what our total wealth is.....and I try to remember that when I feel like we don't "have" much.  And we are able to do things once we've saved and saved.  Our master bath remodel is coming along, and we aren't having to take a loan to do it.

(And I know so many, many people have so much less than we do, which makes having this internal wrangling feel so spoiled and ridiculous.)

I try to remind myself that we are willing to spend our money for things we value highly....like improvements to the house and family vacations/memory-making.

There are other things for which I spend less:  clothes and tchotchkes for the house.

I try as much as I can to buy these items second-hand for a number of reasons.

First, it is cheaper to buy something gently used than pay full price.  This is especially important if it is an item that I'm not going to use all the time, like outdoor furniture or a knick-knack that I might tire of in a year or a dress for a wedding or evening out.

Second, it is wasteful to not reuse as much as possible.  The cost of creating, manufacturing, etc adds up and has many costs that never even cross my mind (like how much water is used in the manufacturing of the item or how much gas is used to transport it from factory to warehouse to store).

Finally, there is something cool about having items in my house that not everyone who has ever shopped at Target has in their houses.  Same with clothes.

I am not a clothes horse by any stretch of the imagination.  My favorite pair of jeans is older than N and has a hole in the knee that I earned from crawling after N...and G...and M when they were babies.  I had bought them used but did go to the Gap and purchase a brand-spanking new pair since I knew I'd  never find a pair just like this one if I tried to find them at a consignment store after a decade plus.

I am interested in attending an event that is coming up next weekend.  I expect this will be a great consignment sale because this gal's momma holds two huge kids consignment sales a year that I participate in (both selling and shopping).  I didn't discover these until G was born, and I wish to this day I had known about them when N was a baby.

I'm in search of a top or dress for family pictures we'll be taking when we head up to Michigan this summer.  I'm trying to coordinate clothing with my gang, my brother's family of five, my mom and dad, and my mother-in-law.

I've completed the boys' shopping (3 new shirts and 2 consigned shorts...D has some khakis already that he can wear):

So I'm on the hunt for myself......and I'm hoping I can get something lovely that matches for well under a small fortune $20.  

The thing that is currently stuck in my craw

As a rule, I do not get my feelings hurt easily, so I'm gonna blame this on perimenopause weirdness. Or on general Christmas-associated grouchiness.

I love quirky things, and I especially love quirky, homemade things.  I'd say probably 60% (and possibly more) of the decorative items in my house are not from stores.  They are items I've purchased from artists and/or craftspeople, things I've made or up-cycled, or things other people have made for me, or things other people bought from artists/craftspeople.  

While I might look at store-made stuff at Target or Hobby Lobby, I generally don't want it because those are what zillions of other people have in their homes.  I like seeing the stuff in my house and remembering who made it for me or who bought it for me during their travels.  I like for my house to have a story.  

The problem is that not everyone values this.  Some people really, really seem to value gift cards.  

Now I am not anti-gift card at all.  I think gift cards are the perfect gift for teachers because if even 10% of their students give them gifts every Christmas or teacher appreciation week, they will run out of room in their houses very quickly.

My family does a dirty Santa gift exchange every year, but it has gotten increasingly less fun because all everyone buys is gift cards.  Gift cards with a little bit of candy tucked in the bag with the gift card.  

I have made the mistake of trying to give fun, quirky gifts.  A few years ago I painted a picture (the one with the rust-colored flowers), which I thought was actually kinda pretty and gave it as a gift.  

Last year I went to a local business that sells fair trade items made in developing countries and bought a bowl made of curled magazine pages and a wooden sculpture for holding one's glasses.  I like that these are handmade items and that the money generated from them goes to sustain people.  

This year, I made a mug and a vase in pottery class.

Every year, I feel like my gifts go over like a lead balloon.  

I know this is not a statement about me, although the middle-schooler who lives inside my head tends to say, "See, you've always been the black sheep, and you always will be."  

I know this is more of a "We like different things" issue.  

Which makes me think I might be done participating in the dirty Santa gift exchange.

I don't want to buy gift cards.  I think it defeats the whole purpose of a dirty Santa exchange. 

The worst part of this is it has me looking at my pottery and thinking it's crap when I know it isn't crap.  It isn't great pottery, or even good pottery, but it is my pottery, and I enjoyed making it, and I think it is cool.  

The above is a small bowl/tray.  

 Another small bowl/tray.

I am keeping this one. 

These will be hung together in my house.  

A little dish for kitty treats.  

Trying on this ad stuff and pondering whether I'd ever want to "market" my blog

A friend of mine posted a photo of Karl Marx on my feed when I complained about shopping, which I hate at all times, but especially now, at Christmastime.

I think that is funny since I just recently thought about (and am test-driving) ads on this site.

Apparently, based on the ads, my blog appeals to people who like Victoria's Secret and are schizophrenic.

How did it know that I took $50 of the money I earned for next semester's teaching and bought myself 13 pair of VS undies?  I have decided that at 42 years of age, with a master's degree and nearly 12 years of mothering under my belt, I am DONE with buying cheap underwear that stretches out after two washings.

I still buy cheap a$$ socks, though because socks don't ride up into unpleasant places.

Sometimes I've pondered being intentional about "marketing" this blog...about actively trying to promote the blog.  In doing so, though, I'd open myself up to a whole bunch of nonsense.  A whole bunch of opinions I don't want.

Like this gal.
Holy heck!  What a sh*tstorm.

I may not agree with her shopping choices, but she also isn't asking me to pay for it, so what does it really matter to me.  I'm certainly not going to lambast her on her blog.  But so many small-minded people will and do.

If I promoted this blog, if I went on blogher and networked to get it "out there," then I would have to deal with whatever fallout occurred as a result.  The small amount of meanness I got on here, before I stopped allowing anonymous comments, was all I needed of that.

I've always questioned the wisdom of not appreciating smallness, or of aspiring to awesomeness no matter the cost.  I remember our city posted signs around a number of years ago that read:  "City name:  16th largest metropolitan area in the US."  I just thought this was so stupid.  Top 3---I can totally see making signs about that.  Even top 5.  But 16th?????

That was a perfect example of a perfectly fine city feeling like it needs to aspire to greatness, when it would be better served to be what it is and get over that desire to grow and gain and be bigger, better, more metropolitan.

I am probably a perfectly fine city who shouldn't bother with signs.  

Purge. Shop. Rinse. Repeat.

The irony of my morning is not lost on me.

It is completely ridiculous to donate items to Goodwill and then walk directly into Goodwill looking for more stuff, right?

RIGHT?

The donated items were things like a seed spreader, a sprayer that I used once to do the deck, and a fake tree.  And a box of clothes.

My shopping list was short:
A black hoodie for N (for her Halloween cat costume).
Snowpants for G.
Swiffer pad thingies (it says that on the box.)

Then there was the list of "browsing" items for which I didn't hold out much hope:  a wider basket for the pillows/blanket in the living room and gently used side tables that are significantly taller than 23 inches.

Goodwill (basket and side tables)==no dice
Habitat Restore=nope
Home Goods/TJ Maxx--basket found, $14.99
Once Upon a Child=snowpants, $6.50
Target=hoodie ($19.99) and Swiffer thingies

I liked looking at the home goods, but it also bothered me because I really strive to be pretty minimalist.

As per my usual, I found myself thinking all manner of thoughts that really aren't conducive to successful shopping.

Thoughts like....

"Why do I like gallery walls?  They are so busy, which is really not minimalist at all.  So am I really not a minimalist?"

"Can I be a minimalist about horizontal stuff but not vertical stuff?"

"Why does everyone seem to want rhino heads on their walls?"

"Am I weird because I do not want rhino heads on my walls?

I am on a couple of swap pages for moms on Facebook, and I am amazed at how many people eagerly jump on items that, at least for me, require lots of stewing and a very specific plan of where I am going to put an item.  I would never, ever buy a piece of furniture without having measurements and knowing where it is going to stay.  Perhaps this is because once a piece of furniture enters my house, it probably isn't ever going to leave.

Shopping with myself for company is a drag.  

Open houses, plumbing attempts, basement art, pottery=because I am trying to do it all

There was a time when the kids were small, when I felt like I would die, simply die, if I didn't get to leave the house.  Now, I long for days when I can get them on the bus (or even get up on the weekend) and not have to go anywhere.  

Being a SAHM, with a freelance writing gig and a 1-day-a-week teaching gig, with all 3 children in school full-time, is absolutely exhausting.  I appear to think, "Hey, I don't work full time, so I can clean my house AND work part-time AND volunteer a butt-load AND run errands AND still make time for me."  

I'm on my learning curve.

Here is what I've been up to.

I

The kids' open houses report:

N takes after me by referring to herself as "Awesome."  

G's contribution to a class poem.  

Same kid who said he was from "Mordor" when we played "Around the World" in piano class.  

M likes froyo. 

The STUPID powder room:

My two sons pulled the ring towel bar out of the wall twice, necessitating its removal and repair of the drywall.  I didn't have enough of the dark brown paint to recover the walls entirely, so I used the leftover yellow/tan paint from the basement and fauxed with brown, blue and a bit of lavendar.  

With it being so much lighter in there, I decided to repaint the light fixture bronze as well as the frame on the painting behind the toilet.  

And I bought new bronze towel holder and TP holder.  

AND got a new faucet.  

I was able to remove the old faucet and get the new one in, 

but I couldn't get the water lines run.  

Is there nothing standard?  

Well, crap.  

Local plumber to finish the job.

I was pretty proud I was even able to get the old one out at all. 

Home Decor:

I am trying to take advantage of having time to browse.  

I haven't browsed in stores for furnishings/decor in over a decade.  

Just as over 10 years ago, I am still very cheap.

I got this for $7.  

I don't love the colors, and I'm not 100% behind "loving with all you've got" simply because it doesn't sound like something I would do:  Carrie loves with all she's got.

Doesn't work.

But the other things in the plaque I can get behind.

And it was $7.

I bought some frames at a consignment shop and am going to do some art down the stairwell.  

I had these little boxes, but I don't want tchotchkes in them, so I wrapped fat quarter fabric on cardboard and glued them to the backs.  

I'm going to start working on a textile art thing on an old canvas. 

 I'm sure it will start out fun and quickly become torturous. 

Pottery class:

I'm taking a 6-week pottery class with a friend.  

Today I made 4 cups/bowls/thingies and meant to take a picture but forgot.  Only one looked like it was deformed, so I was pretty happy with my first go at ever sitting at a pottery wheel. 

  My parents and MIL gave me birthday money, and I decided to use it for this class.  

I hate clothes, and don't want to spend my money on crap for the house.  

Taking a class is just for me.  

Smartphone update (from the Luddite)

One of the reasons I didn't want a smartphone is because I didn't want to become one of those moms who ignores her children because she is dorking around on her phone.

I am glad to say I do not ignore my children as a result of my phone.  It occurred to me, even before I got my smartphone in April, that I ignore my children all the time by reading a printed book, a newspaper, a magazine, a cereal box.  I always have my nose in something so I was doing plenty of child-ignoring.  I didn't need to worry that a smartphone would make me do it because I'm already quite successful in this task already!  Sweet relief!

Like my brain, I'm not using my phone to its greatest capacity, but I have found it a time-saver.

When I need to send someone a quick photo, like to get an estimate on having a cat urine-smelling couch reupholstered, I can take it with my phone and send it via email.  Prior to my phone, I'd take a picture with the camera, upload it to iPhoto, export it to an email and send.

Not having to type the number 4 seventeen times and then the number 8 six times in order to send a text is miraculous.  I don't send any more texts than I did before because I don't really text all that many people.  But when I do, I can get it done in a hurry.

I added a Key Ring app so my key chain doesn't weigh 47 lbs, but I can't scan my Kroger card at the gas station.  This app isn't really a time-saver, though, because I have to scroll for an hour to find the "key" on the keyring app.

I am regularly using store coupons at Michael's and Target because I can pull them up on RetailMeNot.  Prior to the smartphone, I would leave them at home or in my car or in my purse (I carried only my wallet on those occasions).

When my car battery died, the guy at the repair shop told me about the mycarfax app.  He asked how I keep track of repairs, and I said, "Uhhhhh, on paper."  I will still continue to keep a list on paper, but now I can access my repairs on my phone when I forget to bring my list with me (which I will).

I've even allowed one of those chatty women to get me to a restaurant when I wasn't sure where to go.  Fortunately, I was free and clear of my neighborhood, so she didn't need to mention how to get out of my driveway.

N and I now play Trivia Crack, which is a real ego booster.  I know a lot of useless information.  Even though I generally hate time sucks like that, I will play with my kid if for no other reason than to enable a continuation of a shared activity since it may become one of the few things she will do with me as a teen.  In a pinch, she'll play Trivia Crack with her old momma.

Being amongst the rest of the world in terms of a mobile phone hasn't been nearly as devastating as I thought it might be.

My problem with salespeople (Don't make me become an a$$)

My general rule of thumb is that if one person keeps having the same issue repeatedly with different people (like someone being married 4 times and repeatedly divorcing), then the common denominator person is the one with the problem.

Hi, I'm Carrie, and I have problems with salespeople.

It ain't a fun job to deal with me.  There is a very fine balance I expect, and I wrongly assume that salespeople are good enough "people readers" to understand me.  They don't.  If they do, they have my loyalty for life.

When D and I wanted to get rid of our first floor carpet, I called a local flooring company where the builder got the hardwood in our foyer.  I wanted to match all the flooring to that.  So I called and got Dennis.  He just happened to be the salesperson who answered the phone, and he handled all of that process.  He was ok.  I was very clear with him that we pay cash (no 6 months, same as cash stuff).

He referred to me as a "bean counter," which I am.  And this reference wouldn't have bothered me if he didn't, at six month intervals from them on out, email me about the status of my "bean pile" and whether I was ready to purchase more flooring.

"Is your bean pile big enough?"  he asked.

When I was ready to buy a remnant and have it made into a rug, I emailed him and went to the showroom.  But then he rubbed me the wrong way when he fussed at M for climbing on the rolls of carpet.  (Mind you, I have zero problem with someone else correcting my child if they are doing something they aren't supposed to do.  But it was the way he corrected M, who was 3 at the time.)

The combination of the bean emails and the gruff correction made me say "goodbye" to Dennis.

So when D and I wanted to look at laminate tile a few weeks ago we went to the same flooring company, but a different location.  I didn't want to deal with a Home Depot or Lowe's because our experience has been if you go asking specific questions and wanting actual informed explanation, you are gonna get dull stares at big box home supply stores (been there, done that with appliances).

Better to stick with specialists who know a little bit about the product.

So we got R who was very nice and helpful.  We took two samples home and within 36 hours I had emailed him and left a message on his cell phone about what we wanted.  Didn't hear anything.  So I called the store the following business day and got him.  He said he would come measure in 2 days.  On the day he was supposed to measure, a Friday, he emailed and said he was sick and could we tentatively reschedule for Monday.  No problem.

Monday came, and I emailed him about how he was feeling.  He said he was still sick and he'd call me soon.  Four days passed, and I heard nothing from him, which wouldn't be an issue except for the fact that the sale, which took $2 off per square foot, ended on Dec 31.  It was now Jan 2.

He had told me he could get the sales price, but he told me this on Dec 26.  I had nothing in writing showing that the sales price was locked in.

Is he dead?  Is he hospitalized?  Why can't he just touch base with me and let me know "Hey,  I'm still sick, but the sale price will be honored even though it will be into January before I can get there.  I will call you on X date."

So yesterday, I emailed him and said I was going to return the floor samples.  I also left a message on his work voice mail about returning the samples and YES, we want the floor if we can get the sales price.  Heard nothing.

When I returned the floor samples, the sales guy who was there, named Jim, asked, "So did you pick one?" to which I replied, "Yes, I know what I want, but I can't get the guy to come measure my floor."  The sales manager came over.  I explained that I hadn't heard from R in four days, and I was concerned because the sale ended Dec 31.  I explained that I knew R had been sick, but I had first took the floor sample home on Dec 21 and emailed him on the morning of Dec 23, and here it is Jan 2, and I'd like to put this baby to bed.  I said, "I know somebody wants my business, but I don't know if it is you," to which the sales manager replied, "Oh, we want your business."

This morning, at 7:50, I got an email from R asking if he could come measure today.  At 8:53, I got a phone call asking if he could come over in 15 minutes.  By 9:45 he had measured and was on his way into the office.

So I keep going over this:
Was I wrong for returning the samples and ultimately getting the sales manager involved even though that wasn't my intention?
Was this overreacting on my part?
I didn't march in with the samples, seek out the manager and lodge a complaint against R.
I was just going to return the samples and be on my way, leaving the onus on R to contact me and potentially lose the sale if he couldn't get the sales price.  But when asked a direct question, "Did you pick one?  Do you know what you want?"  I answered in my dissatisfied way because I was dissatisfied.

Basically, my desires for a salesperson are the same as my desires for a spouse.  I want someone responsive but not clingy and annoying.  I want someone who will give me specific dates and times for rendezvous and hold to them.  I want someone to make a commitment, put it in writing, and get 'er done in a timely manner.

(As D and I neared our 1-year dating anniversary, I was preparing to give him the "Either this is leading to marriage or I'm outta here" talk.  He proposed before I could give it.)

That isn't too much to ask for, is it?

I remember when underwear for Christmas was a horrible gift

When I was a kid, we had a next-door neighbor whom we called Nana.  I remember she would buy us Christmas presents every year.  I also remember the feeling of disappointment because she would buy us underwear.  No kid wants underwear for Christmas.  From anyone. Under any circumstances.

And now, I think fondly on the underwear from Nana because I would LOVE to get undergarments for Christmas.  Like a new, well-fitting bra.

They say adults lose their ability to feel joy or magic, but I disagree. I simply think the things they find joyous and magical change.  Like underwear.  Or a new dishwasher when theirs doesn't work anymore.

D's family does a Christmas gift exchange every year so, for any of them who might have my name and might read this blog and might need this information, here are some suggestions of things I could use:

1. a new bra, which no one will buy me (so a gift card to Victoria's Secret or anyplace that sells nice bras would be fantastic so I could apply it toward a new bra.  I haven't purchased a nice bra for myself since pre-nursing....so almost 11 years ago.)

2. tall socks (the older I get, the colder I get, so I wear tall socks all winter long.  Including to bed.)

That's it.

I did order myself some new Old Navy long-sleeve t-shirts because most of mine are stained, have holes or are stretched out (and have a new life in my pajama drawer).  I called my mom (who, like me, abhors shopping) and said, "Want to give me some of these shirts for Christmas?"

As soon as the weather turned cold, I bought myself some new house slippers because my previous pair, which N had given me before M was born so I'd have something nice for the hospital, were falling apart.

All of this discussion of practical, boring Christmas desires reminds me of why I am such a terrible shopper.  I am so practical that it sucks the fun out of shopping.  I always think, "Is this useful?" rather than, "Is this a great gift?"

For example, one of the best presents I got for Christmas one year was a pair of rain boots.  I would have eventually bought myself some, but I would have stewed over the purchase because rain boots, while not a luxury item, aren't necessities either.  But I use my rain boots a lot.

The only time when "Is this useful" and "Is this a great gift" coincide is when I buy teacher presents.  I always, always buy gift cards, and I try to buy to locally owned restaurants or find out where the teachers get their hair done.

Ok, I have really bored myself to death by writing this post.  I just better stop.  

If I made a Christmas list

I am the worst gift giver.  Whether I'm buying for myself or someone else, I always ask, "Do I (or they) really need this?"  Although this question is good for keeping one a minimalist, it makes for some really dull gifts.

Like socks.

(I am, however, a very awesome old person gift giver.  I get my husband's grandfather, who is 89, postage stamps, peanut butter and honey for Christmas.)

I generally think I'm an easy person for whom to buy gifts because virtually everything is a treat to me.  One of my students gave me Bath & Body Works hand soap.  Something that smells pepperminty and looks festive is a treat, especially since I reuse the same off-brand soap dispenser with whatever cheap antibacterial soap I can find.

If I were going to make a Christmas list this year, this is what I'd write on it:

1. House slippers that encase my foot.  I have some house slippers that N got for me for my 36th birthday (and in preparation of having M at the hospital and needing some slippers).  They do not have backs, and though I took dance lessons for like 8 years, I cannot manage to walk up and down steps in them.  I am forever tripping over these shoes.

2. Small tissue packets.  You know the kind you put in your purse?  I cannot seem to remember to buy these for myself when I am out.

3. Soap crayons.  There is something about the shower that makes me remember all sorts of stuff I need to do.  But as soon as the water is turned off and I pass through the shower doors, everything that was clear becomes a fog once again.  I keep a notepad at my desk, one on my bedside table, and one in my car, but I think I also need to be able to jot down ideas on the shower walls.  But this is sorta like small tissue packets---I either don't remember to purchase them (because I forgot after I walked out of the shower) or I feel like I shouldn't get them because they are kind of a luxury.

4. Long socks for winter.  The kind that I can pull up to my knees.  I now wear them to bed because my feet get so cold.

5. Any of the books on my goodreads list, but especially these two (preferably used)
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

If a person isn't unconscious after reading this, I think a sleep study is in order.

And then there's the mind-numbing

When N was 5 or so, she asked for an American Girl doll for Christmas.  Santa, being cognizant of N's general disinterest in any doll other than Barbies and her inability to read labels at the time, chose to leave her an Our Generation doll, which N proceeded to ignore for 4 years.

I was actually going to sell the doll in a recent consignment sale because it sat in her closet with hair all funkified from being tossed around under clothing and other more-played-with items.

N insisted I keep the doll.

This summer N has been playing with a classmate who has around 6-8 American Girl dolls.  And lots of clothes for them.  And a bed for them.  And I think she has a vehicle for the dolls.  She has been to Chicago numerous times to shop at the American Girl Store.

As a result, N has been talking American Girl all.summer.long.  Being a product of me, she understands that she gets more "bang for her buck" if she buys Our Generation clothes.  She spent some of her earned money on an OG doll and clothes because she knew she could get it now rather than having to save up for twice as long if she insisted on AG brand.  N has, though, already asked that Santa bring her an actual American Girl doll (only because she doesn't hear Santa's diatribes on budgeting to which only his elves are privy).

N has also requested that we go to Chicago (or St. Louis or really any place that has an actual American Girl Store).

She is turning her closet into a closet for her dolls.  She is making play food for them and menus for them to read and asking her Nana (who can sew) to ramp up the clothes-making process.

While I am glad she has something to do (besides watch tv) that is creative and keeps her happily entertained, I am also
1. sick to fricking death of hearing about doll names and their favorite colors and their personalities and what 11,000,000 items N would like for them to have from the American Girl Store
AND
2. understanding what kinds of hell my mother experienced when I, as a child, would visit my cousin who had a Barbie Dreamhouse and a waterbed and then return home to the squalor that was my life and say, "I want this and I want that and I want the other."

Who wants to talk human evolution??????