I really meant to go look at borrowing interview clothes from a friend, but stumbled upon some great stuff at Unique. Liz Claiborne, top & skirt, tags still on - $19.95. Another dressy combo, $9.95. Scored two summer p.j. sets for X, $3 each. Feeling celebratory, I find myself picking up other non-necessary crap: two Lego guys for a buck, a bag of awesome vintage buttons for $4, a hello Kitty playset for $3 (cheap plastic crap, but pink and cute nonetheless) and a bag of silk flowers for $.80. Once I got it all home, it seemed terribly extravagant - didn't need a damn thing, other than the clothes.
Turns out the bag of silk flowers were actually leis, which the kids found festive and apparently inspirational - they actually prompted them to busily clean and decorate the back porch. Later, Lily brings me the pendant I've been meaning to string for her and says she found a chain for it, tangled in one of the leis. On closer look, it's a thin but pretty 16 inch white gold chain. With a 1/3 karat diamond pendant on it, and a sparkly one at that.
Not bad for 80 cents.
Of course Lily is pissed I won't let her have it back, invoking the "finders / keepers" clause. And yes, I'm well aware that my gain is at the expense of someone else who probably got a tad foopled at a Hawaiian party and didn't notice 'til later - and then had to explain why she wasn't wearing her starter diamond to her boyfriend/husband/children. It's probably a $100 item, max. And yes, I will give it back to Lily. Before I die. Pinky swear? Cool.
Meanwhile... I'll just take it as karmic retribution for our burglary last year. Can't wait to see what I score next.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Stuff... part MMMCXXVIII
If you have a few minutes and Fark.com hasn't updated recently and you just can't face another game of FreeCell, check out www.storyofstuff.com. We watched it with the kids the other night. It's never too soon to start brainwashing the next generation. If only I would have used that extra-utero-Ipod more selectively...not that classical music is ever a bad thing.
The short video calls into question the amount of stuff we decide to bring into our homes, how we make purchasing decisions, and what we keep. It's mostly well done, in that you wish to not even take in the overwhelming information but keep watching anyways. Some of the statistics provoked a couple of "huh?" reactions, and if the only thing I remember from grad school is how incredibly easy it is to manipulate stats, I will be less resentful about student loans. (admittedly, not a catchy mantra...) The essential point remains - consumer decisions have been shamelessly manipulated to increase consumption since post WWII. And we're playing along, without any evident qualms.
Case in point: the motto of a local car dealer: "Buy happy." I'm sure if it was a commentary on the actual purchasing of said vehicle, it would of course opt for the grammatically correct "Buy happily." but no, I think they're implying that you can purchase happiness. I think I'm somewhere between charmed at the blatant nature, and mortified that I need to follow cars with license plates with that - well - platitude.
Lest I become a SanctiMommy - I was happy to be roused from an afternoon torpor by the FedEx guy to receive a box from Yardiac.com. Full disclosure: I just logged on, whipped out the credit card, and bought a circle hoe. A must have, for any gardener. The ingenious design allows you to take out weeds with minimal soil disruption, even up close to the plants you actually want to keep. Despite our 95 degrees, I was perfectly happy to dig right in.
No, I didn't look for this wonder gadget at the thrift stores. It's plenty obscure, even on-line. And, of course, I can't even find my old one in my own backyard. Darn kids.
The short video calls into question the amount of stuff we decide to bring into our homes, how we make purchasing decisions, and what we keep. It's mostly well done, in that you wish to not even take in the overwhelming information but keep watching anyways. Some of the statistics provoked a couple of "huh?" reactions, and if the only thing I remember from grad school is how incredibly easy it is to manipulate stats, I will be less resentful about student loans. (admittedly, not a catchy mantra...) The essential point remains - consumer decisions have been shamelessly manipulated to increase consumption since post WWII. And we're playing along, without any evident qualms.
Case in point: the motto of a local car dealer: "Buy happy." I'm sure if it was a commentary on the actual purchasing of said vehicle, it would of course opt for the grammatically correct "Buy happily." but no, I think they're implying that you can purchase happiness. I think I'm somewhere between charmed at the blatant nature, and mortified that I need to follow cars with license plates with that - well - platitude.
Lest I become a SanctiMommy - I was happy to be roused from an afternoon torpor by the FedEx guy to receive a box from Yardiac.com. Full disclosure: I just logged on, whipped out the credit card, and bought a circle hoe. A must have, for any gardener. The ingenious design allows you to take out weeds with minimal soil disruption, even up close to the plants you actually want to keep. Despite our 95 degrees, I was perfectly happy to dig right in.
No, I didn't look for this wonder gadget at the thrift stores. It's plenty obscure, even on-line. And, of course, I can't even find my old one in my own backyard. Darn kids.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Be careful what you wish for...
Things are feeling a bit shaky at Bob's work again. Just out of curiosity I was perusing social work jobs - and the next thing I know I've up and applied for a position on the bone marrow transplant team at Fairview University. I feel like a Luddite; but applying on-line is kinda slick. It was painless. As soon as I hit "submit" though, I began to feel sick to my stomach. It was some gut reaction to even the possibility of change.
First, I was stuck on what if I'm not qualified and didn't get the job... then, the dawning horror of Dear God what if I DO get the job??? I'm ahead of myself. Why put off 'til tomorrow what you can neurotically obsess about right now?
Obviously, we'd feel more secure with 2 incomes. And I'd really like to be in a position to help out more. I just don't know if it will ever feel good to go back to work, even in the ideal job, because of the guilt that time away from the kids will produce. I don't feel I'm juggling my existing duties particularly well. A "fast-paced, challenging job in a collaborative healthcare environment "for another 4o hours a week might just put me over the edge.
I tell people I'd like to go back to work just so I get to go to the bathroom by myself again.
Sigh.
I got the e-mail yesterday. I'm scheduled for a 4-person panel interview on July 1st. Yikes. That sounds serious.
Next challenge: getting a decent interview outfit. And trying not to lose my lunch.
First, I was stuck on what if I'm not qualified and didn't get the job... then, the dawning horror of Dear God what if I DO get the job??? I'm ahead of myself. Why put off 'til tomorrow what you can neurotically obsess about right now?
Obviously, we'd feel more secure with 2 incomes. And I'd really like to be in a position to help out more. I just don't know if it will ever feel good to go back to work, even in the ideal job, because of the guilt that time away from the kids will produce. I don't feel I'm juggling my existing duties particularly well. A "fast-paced, challenging job in a collaborative healthcare environment "for another 4o hours a week might just put me over the edge.
I tell people I'd like to go back to work just so I get to go to the bathroom by myself again.
Sigh.
I got the e-mail yesterday. I'm scheduled for a 4-person panel interview on July 1st. Yikes. That sounds serious.
Next challenge: getting a decent interview outfit. And trying not to lose my lunch.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The 5 year plan
We celebrated the X-man's 5th birthday. We went out to breakfast at the Longfellow Grill, stopped by the Salvation Army for some cool cars and trucks, picked up a friend and went to see Up! at the Highland Theatre in St. Paul. Including breakfast, cake fixings, SA, the movie, and snacks I easily went through $100. I made a conscious choice to support independent, local businesses (restaurant and movie theatre) and we stayed in the neighborhood - more or less.
The fun part was letting X make the decisions - all day. Pretty entertaining, especially as he changed his mind, a lot.
For his birthday cake, he told me he wanted a mouse driving a bulldozer. Okay... had a small toy bulldozer, mouse, and the willingness to make cookie crumb dirt so, yeah, I can do that... Then he wanted dinosaurs. And MonkeyFist and sumo Ninjas. And tube worms. And...
What we settled for was a dinosaur diorama, with gummi worms. Strawberries were boulders, green sprinkles for grass, and dried dates for - um, well - dinosaur poop. I found a candle that was dino-height so it looks like he was trying to make a wish, too. Super silly but fun.
We had a bunch of presents from relatives far and wide - books, cars - and the plan on Saturday is to take X and friends to a restored steam engine train and museum. Somewhat low key, but high on the experiences scale and a little lower consumption profile. The less we shop and the more we avoid network tv, it seems the demand for stuff is naturally decreased.
I'm powerless over the shape of my son's birthday. The first step is admitting it. The "letting go" is quite liberating.
The fun part was letting X make the decisions - all day. Pretty entertaining, especially as he changed his mind, a lot.
For his birthday cake, he told me he wanted a mouse driving a bulldozer. Okay... had a small toy bulldozer, mouse, and the willingness to make cookie crumb dirt so, yeah, I can do that... Then he wanted dinosaurs. And MonkeyFist and sumo Ninjas. And tube worms. And...
What we settled for was a dinosaur diorama, with gummi worms. Strawberries were boulders, green sprinkles for grass, and dried dates for - um, well - dinosaur poop. I found a candle that was dino-height so it looks like he was trying to make a wish, too. Super silly but fun.
We had a bunch of presents from relatives far and wide - books, cars - and the plan on Saturday is to take X and friends to a restored steam engine train and museum. Somewhat low key, but high on the experiences scale and a little lower consumption profile. The less we shop and the more we avoid network tv, it seems the demand for stuff is naturally decreased.
I'm powerless over the shape of my son's birthday. The first step is admitting it. The "letting go" is quite liberating.
Friday, June 12, 2009
The things we keep...
While we're in a confessional strain, I was musing on what accumulates despite our best efforts.
In a kitchen cabinet right now, I have the remains of a bag of loose tea, Pomeroy's Apricot, that I purchased while on holiday in New Zealand. In 1995. That's 14 years, to you and me. Or 2, in dog years. Tea is not a typical souvenir, and I've moved twice plus had the kitchen remodelled. That means I've had a minimum of 3 opportunities to review my continued ownership of said item. And that I've packed it, moved it, unpacked, and put it back multiple times. It sits in my cupboard, taunting me. Right next to the box of Celestial Seasoning Iced Delight, with the Best If Used Before 19....96! I just ripped open the cellophane on that one last week, to make sun tea.
I recently used up some soap, complete with goofy kitten and butterfly image somehow embedded in the bar, that I'm pretty sure was gifted unto me prior to getting married. Our 10th anniversary is this September.
On the desk next to me is a lovely homemade birthday invitation from Lily's 7th, just this past year. I intend to keep it, as it was a marvelous party and her first sleepover. Although having it tossed/lost/scribbled upon is a distinct possibility, I haven't yet put it away. The reasons are two-fold: I don't know where "away" is, and I'm waiting until the baby shower (from Jan. 2002) announcement resurfaces so I can put them together.
This is where the spectre of scrapbooking rears its' ugly head. To which I roar: "You shall not pass!" Sort of...
I do have an awful lot of paper, mementos, and fancy scissors and punches. I own way too many kinds of glue and stick-on letters. I know it's a slippery slope. But I have people who have vowed to intervene (in a Welcome to Rehab! kinda way) if I so much glance meaningfully in that direction. There's a backlog of two or more years of photos that need to be put in regular old 4-to-a-page albums, and then there's the zillion pictures that have been uploaded, edited, etc. on Picassa - but I have yet to find the time to actually order hard copies. My kids love looking through albums, and have asked pointed questions about if we have done anything fun since the early albums left off. Ouch.
Let the record show I don't actually do "stamping" or "scrapbooking" - the terms Bob uses with utter disdain. I make cards. Cool ones. Which I should be doing right now, as Aunt Harriet's birthday is coming up.
I think I'll have a cup of tea first.
In a kitchen cabinet right now, I have the remains of a bag of loose tea, Pomeroy's Apricot, that I purchased while on holiday in New Zealand. In 1995. That's 14 years, to you and me. Or 2, in dog years. Tea is not a typical souvenir, and I've moved twice plus had the kitchen remodelled. That means I've had a minimum of 3 opportunities to review my continued ownership of said item. And that I've packed it, moved it, unpacked, and put it back multiple times. It sits in my cupboard, taunting me. Right next to the box of Celestial Seasoning Iced Delight, with the Best If Used Before 19....96! I just ripped open the cellophane on that one last week, to make sun tea.
I recently used up some soap, complete with goofy kitten and butterfly image somehow embedded in the bar, that I'm pretty sure was gifted unto me prior to getting married. Our 10th anniversary is this September.
On the desk next to me is a lovely homemade birthday invitation from Lily's 7th, just this past year. I intend to keep it, as it was a marvelous party and her first sleepover. Although having it tossed/lost/scribbled upon is a distinct possibility, I haven't yet put it away. The reasons are two-fold: I don't know where "away" is, and I'm waiting until the baby shower (from Jan. 2002) announcement resurfaces so I can put them together.
This is where the spectre of scrapbooking rears its' ugly head. To which I roar: "You shall not pass!" Sort of...
I do have an awful lot of paper, mementos, and fancy scissors and punches. I own way too many kinds of glue and stick-on letters. I know it's a slippery slope. But I have people who have vowed to intervene (in a Welcome to Rehab! kinda way) if I so much glance meaningfully in that direction. There's a backlog of two or more years of photos that need to be put in regular old 4-to-a-page albums, and then there's the zillion pictures that have been uploaded, edited, etc. on Picassa - but I have yet to find the time to actually order hard copies. My kids love looking through albums, and have asked pointed questions about if we have done anything fun since the early albums left off. Ouch.
Let the record show I don't actually do "stamping" or "scrapbooking" - the terms Bob uses with utter disdain. I make cards. Cool ones. Which I should be doing right now, as Aunt Harriet's birthday is coming up.
I think I'll have a cup of tea first.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Halftime Analysis
It appears I've been taking the voluntary simplicity route for about 6 months now. I realize the blog has gone far and wide from the topic at times, but let me explain.
No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
6 months in, and how am I doing?
In terms of things purchased new, I can think of a few items - plastic boats from the dollar store, some DVD's, a new car stereo.
The boats were a $1.99 purchase at Family Dollar, after I had looked at three thrift stores. I have a Brio waterway (last summer's garage sale score), complete with locks and dam, set up on the back porch and X-man pushing bits of bark around got a bit pathetic after a week or so. Necessary? Of course not.
The DVD's were railroad documentaries, a rare indulgence from Bob. He does say that if I didn't treat the kids so often there'd be some room for him to. Ouch. That one hit close to home.
The car stereo - number 5? 6? - is to replace yet another one stolen from Bob's car. It was about $100. I can imagine trying to search out a used stereo, complete with dangling wires, and coming across all of the previous occupants of the Honda's now mangled console. Like ghosts of Christmas past, but for crackheads.
Ah, well... Bob didn't really agree to sign on to the pledge, but has been supportive of the spirit of it. When we needed a new printer/scanner, he chose a "factory reconditioned" model, which is technically used and more mindful of resources. He's still trying to figure out how I can still be accumulating so much crap, used or not. If you showed up at our door, and I wasn't home, and you mentioned a passing interest in _________, he'd leap to his feet and say "Karen's got a mess of stuff for that. Want some? Come down to the basement & pick out what you want."
This is the part where I tactfully don't mention 1000's of CD's that just sit there taking up precious closet space...
Anyhoo - I'm somewhat amazed by how much is available in my usual haunts of Salvation Army, Unique, Goodwill and all those blessed garage sales that pop up like mushrooms after a soaking rain. I'm also humbled that I still can't quite get a grasp on my relationship with stuff and all the emotional baggage that comes with it, free of charge.
I've been pleasantly surprised by how little whining the kids do about buying things - got through Target the other day, nary a peep - but to see them at a garage sale calls to mind those game show prizes where they'd give you a shopping cart and 3 minutes to stuff it... And their first line of defense? "We won't tell Papa. "
Marvelous. I'll take all the money I'm saving and put it in the "future psychotherapy fund".
Actually, I don't think I'm saving money. I just have enough left so I'm spending it on different things; more indulgences but less guilt. The Pedal Pub, trip to Boston, the landscaping - worthwhile endeavors, enduring memories, and no worries about dusting or storage.
So far, so good.
No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
6 months in, and how am I doing?
In terms of things purchased new, I can think of a few items - plastic boats from the dollar store, some DVD's, a new car stereo.
The boats were a $1.99 purchase at Family Dollar, after I had looked at three thrift stores. I have a Brio waterway (last summer's garage sale score), complete with locks and dam, set up on the back porch and X-man pushing bits of bark around got a bit pathetic after a week or so. Necessary? Of course not.
The DVD's were railroad documentaries, a rare indulgence from Bob. He does say that if I didn't treat the kids so often there'd be some room for him to. Ouch. That one hit close to home.
The car stereo - number 5? 6? - is to replace yet another one stolen from Bob's car. It was about $100. I can imagine trying to search out a used stereo, complete with dangling wires, and coming across all of the previous occupants of the Honda's now mangled console. Like ghosts of Christmas past, but for crackheads.
Ah, well... Bob didn't really agree to sign on to the pledge, but has been supportive of the spirit of it. When we needed a new printer/scanner, he chose a "factory reconditioned" model, which is technically used and more mindful of resources. He's still trying to figure out how I can still be accumulating so much crap, used or not. If you showed up at our door, and I wasn't home, and you mentioned a passing interest in _________, he'd leap to his feet and say "Karen's got a mess of stuff for that. Want some? Come down to the basement & pick out what you want."
This is the part where I tactfully don't mention 1000's of CD's that just sit there taking up precious closet space...
Anyhoo - I'm somewhat amazed by how much is available in my usual haunts of Salvation Army, Unique, Goodwill and all those blessed garage sales that pop up like mushrooms after a soaking rain. I'm also humbled that I still can't quite get a grasp on my relationship with stuff and all the emotional baggage that comes with it, free of charge.
I've been pleasantly surprised by how little whining the kids do about buying things - got through Target the other day, nary a peep - but to see them at a garage sale calls to mind those game show prizes where they'd give you a shopping cart and 3 minutes to stuff it... And their first line of defense? "We won't tell Papa. "
Marvelous. I'll take all the money I'm saving and put it in the "future psychotherapy fund".
Actually, I don't think I'm saving money. I just have enough left so I'm spending it on different things; more indulgences but less guilt. The Pedal Pub, trip to Boston, the landscaping - worthwhile endeavors, enduring memories, and no worries about dusting or storage.
So far, so good.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Summertime
It's official: both kids are out of school for the summer. I'm looking forward to staying at the park 'til near dark, sleeping in late, bike rides, quality time in the hammock, and various and sundry day trip adventures. We love blueberry picking, exploring along the Mississippi, and picnic playdates.
(But to be honest, right now I'm stuck on how I'll manage work and some "me" time without the handy school hours. I'm a glass-half-full kinda gal. Unmedicated, I'm a glass-smashing-on-the-floor-and-I'm too-apathetic/numb-to-pick-shards-outta-my-feet. Graphic, and telling.)
I really meant to sign them up for summer camps. The intention was clear and present. Lots of brochures arrived, were perused at length. I must confess to a case of sticker shock! A week-long half-day class runs from $80 to $120, each. And finding a class that is interesting and appropriate for both kids isn't that easy. Various ideas were bandied about, but still I can't make a decision. If Day One is any indication, I'm going to need some structured committments to make up for my lack of motivation. As in, I could do something enriching for the sprogs, or I can just ignore the whining and check my FaceBook.
Last week we had the unique pleasure of answering the door to our lovely neighbors and being invited to play. And saying yes, just like that. No phone calls, e-mails, or "I'll check our schedule and get back to you." It's crazy how novel that felt, when you consider how vastly different my childhood was.
My sister and I were blessed with a neighborhood full of kids, and we all ran together in a pack from breakfast until they turned on the streetlights. We were raised in a 1950's suburb that had been reclaimed from swamp, so they left these extra big backyards that weren't fenced in until recently. Freeze tag, kick ball, you name it - we had our own field that belonged to everyone. I guess we did Vacation Bible School for a week or two, and Girl Scout Camp. But most of our time was unstructured, and I can't remember ever being bored. There was a week or two of family road trips, and usually a much-anticipated visit to our relatives in Canada.
Theoretically, not that much has changed. It was a mere generation ago. There's lots of kids around here. My two will play well with almost anyone. But I still find myself calling up parents and scheduling playdates a few days in advance. Spontaneity is reserved for friends within walking distance, or those you run into at the park. It's just that most families have to deal with work schedules, childcare issues, plus their own structured activities - the available time to overlap by happenstance is pretty limited. I view the family schedule as part of the solution and part of the problem. A necessary evil, perhaps, one that must be kept in check.
Playing hasn't become merely more structured. It appears to need more equipment, too. And the siren song of the toy and sporting good aisle mainly offers active, summer fun for the kids, but the implicit promise - occupied kids leave more time and sanity for the parents - seems writ pretty large too. Cruise the end-caps at Target. It's an education.
I fell prey to this thinking - although at a church rummage sale - yesterday. Horseshoes, art supplies, hand-held games, books, vehicles - the novelty factor is pretty important right now. So what if it was only $28 - it is still 3 bags of crap we don't actually need! We also, technically, didn't need to celebrate the end of school with hot dogs and milkshakes, nary a vegetable in sight. Summer is a season of indulgences. At least that hasn't changed.
(But to be honest, right now I'm stuck on how I'll manage work and some "me" time without the handy school hours. I'm a glass-half-full kinda gal. Unmedicated, I'm a glass-smashing-on-the-floor-and-I'm too-apathetic/numb-to-pick-shards-outta-my-feet. Graphic, and telling.)
I really meant to sign them up for summer camps. The intention was clear and present. Lots of brochures arrived, were perused at length. I must confess to a case of sticker shock! A week-long half-day class runs from $80 to $120, each. And finding a class that is interesting and appropriate for both kids isn't that easy. Various ideas were bandied about, but still I can't make a decision. If Day One is any indication, I'm going to need some structured committments to make up for my lack of motivation. As in, I could do something enriching for the sprogs, or I can just ignore the whining and check my FaceBook.
Last week we had the unique pleasure of answering the door to our lovely neighbors and being invited to play. And saying yes, just like that. No phone calls, e-mails, or "I'll check our schedule and get back to you." It's crazy how novel that felt, when you consider how vastly different my childhood was.
My sister and I were blessed with a neighborhood full of kids, and we all ran together in a pack from breakfast until they turned on the streetlights. We were raised in a 1950's suburb that had been reclaimed from swamp, so they left these extra big backyards that weren't fenced in until recently. Freeze tag, kick ball, you name it - we had our own field that belonged to everyone. I guess we did Vacation Bible School for a week or two, and Girl Scout Camp. But most of our time was unstructured, and I can't remember ever being bored. There was a week or two of family road trips, and usually a much-anticipated visit to our relatives in Canada.
Theoretically, not that much has changed. It was a mere generation ago. There's lots of kids around here. My two will play well with almost anyone. But I still find myself calling up parents and scheduling playdates a few days in advance. Spontaneity is reserved for friends within walking distance, or those you run into at the park. It's just that most families have to deal with work schedules, childcare issues, plus their own structured activities - the available time to overlap by happenstance is pretty limited. I view the family schedule as part of the solution and part of the problem. A necessary evil, perhaps, one that must be kept in check.
Playing hasn't become merely more structured. It appears to need more equipment, too. And the siren song of the toy and sporting good aisle mainly offers active, summer fun for the kids, but the implicit promise - occupied kids leave more time and sanity for the parents - seems writ pretty large too. Cruise the end-caps at Target. It's an education.
I fell prey to this thinking - although at a church rummage sale - yesterday. Horseshoes, art supplies, hand-held games, books, vehicles - the novelty factor is pretty important right now. So what if it was only $28 - it is still 3 bags of crap we don't actually need! We also, technically, didn't need to celebrate the end of school with hot dogs and milkshakes, nary a vegetable in sight. Summer is a season of indulgences. At least that hasn't changed.
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