Well, it seems like the lottery to *me* anyway.

I'm done feeling sorry for myself because I SCORED!  Sometimes when I get into a "pity me" mindset, I feel so sorry for myself that I enter a self-perpetuating state of woe.  I actually REVIEWED my budget and saw that I have a category for "home something-or-other" which I interpreted to mean "garden" so I instantly stopped kicking myself for buying a $6 plant (which was as close to a "need" as a "want" can be!)  [Insert photo of coral sedum to emphasize how *necessary* this $6 expenditure clearly was]. 

I have long felt sorry for myself because I HAD to buy pinestraw a few bales at a time (at exorbitant rates, and the pine straw mussed the inside of the car) because I didn't know anyone with a truck who I wanted to bother to take me to the City's free mulch place.  So I took myself!!!  Now, I drive the BEST CAR IN THE WORLD, and although Mini Coopers are renowned for their fantastic gas efficiency, they are less well known for their CARGO HAULING capacity (but it sure cuts down on those impromptu play dates I was always conned into while driving a mini van!) [insert adorable Zumba-mobile with mulch here.]   

And no (well, less) mess!  It cost me a couple of bucks in gas and 2 hours of my time (I made two round trips and harvested 12 buckets full).

My mom, in her infinite financial wisdom, always said, "If you are not rich, you have to be clever."  Well, I'm starting to get VERY CLEVER indeed! 

Stress begins to show in the Gray team.  Man, this was fun . . . for a while.

My mother once told me that I was good at everything I tried.  By this I’m certain she meant that if I wasn’t good at something, I simply didn’t do it.  My Algebra teacher was often unhappy with me.  As I’ve previously noted, I now realize that I must get real good with my finances whether I like it or not – quitting really isn’t one of the choices. 

At the filming for the next webisode today, I was very anxious – and I found myself teary – not because I was sad, but because this is my all-purpose extreme stress emotion.  I was trying to understand what was stressing me so, and I concluded that it is because I am so gung-ho about projects that I had cut through my spending so radically, and that I wasn’t sure I felt any “payoff” yet.  In fact, in trying to explain my circumstance of (previously) behaving  frivolously with money and eschewing (for Lemony Snicket fans:  a word which here means ‘rejecting’) planning skills, I had managed to portray myself as a frivolous PERSON. 

I realized that after I earned my PhD, I no longer wished to maintain the “persona” I had surrounding me like Pigpen’s cloud:   I was the quintessential scattered graduate student – nose in a book, papers falling out of the bag, coffee spilled on *everything.*  I was lucky to learn about some strategies that now keep me more focused, more organized, less impulsive – and I began planning more, and stressing less (although I still WORRY plenty).

By emphasizing my failures with money on this blog and in the webisodes, however, I noticed that I’ve highlighted one of the few things that I have tried – and failed to do well.  That, I think is what is weighing on me this week.  I notice that I’ve said more than once that I want to know “the answer” – I want to know how *normal* people do this or that.  I think I need to figure out what filing system *I* can communicate with rather than what system the guru-of-the-month advocates.  I see how frustrated my students must be when I require them to find THEIR answer – not THE answer. 

A few days ago I posted what I thought was a thoughtful commentary about the reason why many people are now focused on their finances – I meant to suggest that times of tremendous social stress often require immediate and rather drastic changes.  My instinct was that people I knew were ready now to become less “fluffy” and more . . . responsible (like I’d decided to do).  It was suggested to me that I’d picked the wrong venue for such weighty analogies . . . and perhaps so – but I think I was eager to show the less-shallow side of me:  I *am* competent in several areas of my life.  In the classroom, I get to show my students how history is relevant – how this current economic and social crisis is relevant to everyone . . . and history can be a useful "playbook," providing insights about how one might negotiate the big social questions as well as the seemingly smaller personal ones.   

I like history in part because I think I'm good at it -- that is, I like pulling out those patterns that seem relevant now & I like to tell other people about what I see.  My friend recently reminded me that to learn from your mistakes is clever, but to learn from the mistakes of others is genius.  I’ve learned a great deal already -- both from my history "playbooks" but also from opening up my vulnerabilities for close scruitiny and correction. 

My perfectionism means that I agonize about small mis-steps and foibles.  Maybe I'd never done a budget because I wouldn't have THE BEST BUDGET EVER or because it would inevitable not be immediately perfect.  But I've decided to accept my coaches' praise:  a few weeks ago, I didn't have a plan, a goal, a budget, or any idea how to get those things.  Today I have all of those things:  Huzzah!

Now I get how much $150 "weighs."  Garage sales are a lot of work.  I'm tired.

I was a bit sad this afternoon after having made less than I anticipated (wanted) at the garage sale -- $150.  I was feeling subdued and pensive (a bit sad here about the role of STUFF in my former life & the true cost of keeping it all) & then I read the comment about how the contestants [and I paraphrase here] aren't really sacrificing sufficiently -- not walking to work, couponing with gusto, or eating enough beans.  That made me even more sad & pensive (thoughtful) as I scarfed down my bowl of lunch cereal that I bought with a coupon at a discount store.  It reminded me of a comment that my dear friend made (although far more pleasantly and less accusatory) about how her current financial circumstance had been and still was as bad or worse than any of ours -- but she was managing to get her ducks in a row without the benefit of "staff."  Ouch.  But here's the thing:  I think that what's neat about the group of folks assembled here is that I perceive everyone gets that our numbers on the page are not the essential issue.  You can have $1 or $1million, but if you don't know how to manage it, you are poor -- and you may also be broke, which is the temporary version of poor.  Every single person here seems to understand that the "contest" part is simply jolly motivation for this "life school" that we are all hoping that will not simply shift us away from broke, but will shove us away from poor (thinking).  

And another thing:  my dissertation, which you can read here :D (how long did you think it was going to take before I offered that up?  But it's FREE to read electronically!  http://etd.lib.fsu.edu/theses/available/etd-07052007-112441/) made the point that southern white elites suffered accutely (emotionally, and in style-of-living) when their enconomy was devastated after the Civil War -- and their inability to negotiate the new economy had devastating ramifications for the WHOLE nation (and was a pox on American prosperity for over a century).  The more accustomed one is to eating caviar, as it were, the harder the adjustment to beans-and-rice.  You can poo-poo that, I suppose, but if I can't teach my children financial integrity, then they might one day run Ponzi schemes (ok, well, not MY kids, but you see my point?  People with $$$ in the bank might well be dangerous to *everyone's* well being if they, say, buy houses they can't afford over time).

If only a tiny few of ultra-couponers & bicyclers can make the only sorts of change that matters, then why should *anyone* try?  My change might not seem serious enough to some observers, but it is a BIG DEAL to me and it is the willingness and ability of MANY types of people to make incremental changes that is a hallmark of what's good about America and the most promising path out of this shark-infested crisis of selfishness.

And, I hate to make another dieting analogy, but if you have been going through McDonald's drive thru [sic -- see why children cannot spell?] for lunch EVERY DAY, and then overnight, to "prove" you were "sacrificing enough," you could eat nothing but Tofu [or insert sterotypically "morally superior" food here] -- how sold would you be on that change for the rest of your life?  Sustainable change is made sensibly so as to be sustainable.  The changer has to understand the benefits of each small behavioral change before embracing it.  And so if I was visiting the salon (*ahem* BEAUTY SCHOOL) ten times per year, I think visiting the beauty school zero times per year is a more than sufficient "down payment" on my transformation away from the ME TEAM and toward the WE TEAM.

I had a high school soccer coach who encouraged open discussion (and critique), but she made the stipulation that before anyone criticized anyone else, they had to first say something positive (and not necessarily even about that person) . . . isn't that a lovely idea?

YEAH FCCU TEAMS!  

Not Exactly About Budgets: or, There is Karen Doing Her Own Thing Again

The assignment we were meant to write about was budgets (and making “lifestyle changes” which is just a fancy way of saying “making hard and unpleasant choices”). And I *did* write about budgets & other nasty, unpleasant things (like math), but the three single spaced pages amounted to a complaint about budgets (albeit a witty and sophisticated one). And this is notable because I’ve never actually completed a budget. Ever. That’s embarrassing. I know.

I’d rather you not have to start off thinking I was a whiny, indulged simpleton (or what was it that my coach Michelle called it? "pampered"?? I'll allow "sheltered," but "pampered" I am not :) who was only induced to learn the skills that all responsible adults should have mastered long ago because I thought I could get my picture on a billboard (seriously: me? A representative for a financial institution? Really quite implausible.) And while I might have been artificially cocooned away from the hazards of daily math and fiscal responsibility in my married life, I’d like to come you to come around to the “indulged” conclusion a tad later (if you must) – after you’ve come to appreciate my seeming deficiencies as “quirky” and “endearing” rather than just pitiful.

I’ve not always been sheltered from “real life.” My upbringing imbued me with a strong set of middle class assumptions about the world: we lived in “genteel poverty” after my father died when I was nine – that is to say my mother did the best she could as a young single mother of three, but our manners and expectations were always a solidly “respectable” family, if not wealthy. So we didn’t talk about money (that would be “common”), and the vague and slightly cryptic financial advice my mother provided was vagaries like “It is as easy to marry rich as to marry poor,” (she was only half kidding) and “You should only have as many children as you intend to raise alone” (and this she meant quite seriously). We spent when we had money – and that was our “plan.”

My paucity of practical skill in money management (and disdain for basic math) is a serious liability now that the stakes for neglecting one’s financial health are so much higher. It reminds me of how I mastered weight loss: I’d heard all my life that one must eat less and exercise more. And I have no argument with this on the level of pure theory. It makes perfect sense. But I only actually lost weight when I realized that those fitness gurus were *talking to ME.* As in *I* had to eat less and exercise more. I was not somehow a unique exception to this rule. My justifications for eating whatever I wanted (I have low blood sugar!) kept me from true fitness. When I had that “ah ha moment” I went from a size 12 to a size 4 (that sounded like magic, didn’t it – I omitted the part where I worked REALLY HARD and employed daily vigilance for the past year). So it is that I am ready to receive the messages of “spend less and earn (or save) more.” We change when the message is relevant to us, personally.

I am a hard worker when I buy into the project at hand: I finished my BA in three years Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Oklahoma (having taken a semester off and changed my major three times), and I was not a dime in debt – I worked my tush off & paid my own way (tuition, books, fees, food, shelter, clothing & transportation). Likewise, I graduated with a Masters & PhD unencumbered by school loans, but, as you are gathering, without those “executive function” skills that some possess naturally that tame piles of paper & balance spreadsheets to zero. I suspect there are a few folks out there who, like me, are educated sorts, but who might feel like rubes with a budget.

So I’m here getting my Girl Power on – in front of the world (well, the greater metro Tallahassee area, so, effectively, *my* world – and a city block of Tucson – Hi mom & Grandma-in-the-rain! My Grandma Lorraine (or “in-the-rain,” according to my daughter) was a bank employee (and a careful saver) for her entire career, and so she must be well and truly horrified by me ;). I hope that letting you paw through my secrets, metaphorically speaking, you might find something useful that will help you through these hard times. Likewise, I am sincerely expecting some “external motivation” in the form of *knowing* you all might be snickering at my financial ineptitude in the comfort of your own homes, or better, in the form of your advice and encouragement.

Those of us who have been to a Weight Watchers meeting have heard the phrase “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels,” which is a nice way of saying, “Put down the cake, chubby girl.” Likewise, for those who want to be fiscally fit, there are tough choices as well – often requiring a great deal more willpower to resist than that “Blackbottomed Muffin” (deceptively named because it is really a cupcake) from Fivebucks. Wah!

My mother would quip here, “No one said life was fair,” and again I would agree with this – IN THEORY – but in PRACTICE, this is a very difficult concept to embrace – a bit like hugging a ball of barbed wire, in fact. Nevertheless, I would like to be congratulated upon giving up (or sharply reducing) the following:

My salon appointments: Ok, since we’re all friends here, I feel comfortable sharing with you that my hair is 100% gray. No, I’m not being melodramatic. I started going gray when I was 18 and I recently decided to let my “true self shine through” and stop coloring it. When my mom saw some photos of my “true self,” she demanded I color it immediately – because it made HER feel old! And, as one of my favorite hair girls once told me, “Honey, there are so many OTHER ways to express yourself.”

The salon was my therapy, though. I got the same adorable foil highlights that my students got, which made me feel like I was ‘hep,’ and, frankly, after four hours (I went to the hair school – because you either have time or money. Guess which I had more of?) with a trashy magazine, I felt like a ROCK STAR. I haven’t had my every-five-weeks-highlights in over six months, and honestly, I’m depressed about it.

Yes, yes, any 100% gray girl worth her salt can box color with the best of them, but it’s really not the same. I did, however, score an amazing tip which helps staunch the waves of depression of my salon exile: learn your tone (ash or gold) and your volume number for the processor, and buy your stash from the beauty supply. Results? Well, you tell me.

I’m going back, however – this is a sacrifice that I am gritting my teeth through & chanting “it’s only temporary, it’s only temporary.” I am also self-serving on another salon process that I refuse to detail here for you, but I would just like to assure you that I get BIG EXTRA CREDIT for doing this at home – because most folks just wouldn’t.

Giving up restaurants wasn’t as tough. I started to realize that I stopped into Moe’s because I drove past it a lot & had conned myself into thinking that a 1,000 calorie burrito (yes, that’s what they are, ladies) was “health food.” And I deserved the chips. Well, I don’t deserve to be fat or in debt – so that’s gone. Giving up sodas has been harder. My soda drinking behavior was also based on having change & passing by a machine – seventy-five cents doesn’t seem like much, but it was “[financial] death by a thousand quarters.” And diet soda is also not “health food.” I make my coffee at home or I go without – which has happened only once, and my suffering was so acute that it will never happen again.

Shopping Target clearance has been such a difficult nut to crack that it will likely be the subject of (several) future posts because it was such a complex combination of habit, relaxation & addiction that it may take some time to unpack the many layers of my own personal drug: the red Target clearance sticker.

I plan to work through many of the home & personal items I have stockpiled over the years (when shampoo is ten cents a bottle, who wouldn’t buy 26 bottles?) and so I am planning to keep my spending in these categories very low.

Other than those things, I haven’t much to give up: I don’t drink (not because I’m agin’ it, but because I don’t drink calories – or as my mother would say, “I take my calories in hot fudge”), I don’t smoke – gah! What a road to perdition! (but I digress), I don’t gamble or play the lottery (same thing), my car sips gas, doesn't guzzle it, and I turn my power strips off at night. I’ve always put on socks rather than turn on the heat (I have a witness that my thermostat is currently set at 53 in the winter & 80-something in the summer), and I buy my clothes at Goodwill (or Target clearance, because seriously, Goodwill is kind of pricey if they aren’t running sale). I am a cheap date, and when you start from “not much of a spender” (ok, I hear a few of you guffawing – let’s talk about scrapbooks & kayaks in another post, shall we?), it’s hard to cinch the belt further. But I’m willing to try – and I’ll produce my spending logs to anyone who bumps into me and asks.