Friday, May 11, 2007

An Afternoon's Perspective Shot

A few weeks ago, I had conversations with two different people about what's going on with my mom.

The first one was with a man I had known as a boy in grade school. We sat on his front porch while he held his baby daughter in his lap, and he asked me how I was doing. I told him I thought I'd completely lost the ability to panic. If it wasn't leaking plutonium, I said, it wasn't a problem-- and if it was leaking plutonium, I knew who to call. He said, basically, that he thought I had my head on pretty straight.

The second conversation was with my best friend Denise, who I've known "only" since college. We sat in her car while she drove westward in rush hour traffic and I told her how stressed I was getting. Just because I'm not panicking doesn't mean I'm not stressing. She said, basically, that if I tried to mortgage my future to take care of my mom's present, she was going to kick my ass.

Now-- on one hand, having a cancer patient in the family will stretch your resources to the breaking point and beyond. You will run out of money. You will run out of time. You may run out of the room screaming as you finally lose your temper and pull everyone else down with you. No one gets out for free. But on the other hand, I'm doing the best I can to marshall my current resources properly. I'm working to get out of debt. I'm eating more healthfully and exercising more often. I average 8 hrs of sleep a night. My friends and my employers are both in the loop and both quite supportive. And when I think of my future-future, that place where I hope to be in a couple of years, it looks the same from today as it did from six months ago, only without my mom in it. I'll cry a river when the time comes, but I'm not ready to do it yet. So if I'm being so responsible, why did she make the comment? Because, just like everybody else, I tend to prioritize the "urgent" over the "important".

Just to clarify: "urgent" is when you're sprinting for the bus because you don't want to be an hour late getting home. "Important" is when you decide that the lost hour is not worth sprinting across four lanes of oncoming traffic. Urgent things are usually one-time expenditures of time and resources; there is some pressing need to do them right now. Important things are usually long-term commitments that require constant care and vigilance, but don't normally create a feeling of immediate need. We neglect them because either we figure that they're big enough to take care of themselves for a day or a year at a time without our input, or we assume that they're too big for our puny efforts to make any difference at all. And down we go in the Hellevator.

In my particular case, I think Denise was talking about money. My immediate financial goals are fairly modest: I want to save up to pay in-state tuition for the fall semester and to get a good used car. Both of these things are out of my current price range. Both of these are things I've managed to get along well for over a decade without having. So it's easy enough to say, "Well, I sure can't buy a car with thirty bucks, so if that's all I've got, I might as well give it to my mom." At which point, Denise would most assuredly kick my ass.

You see, for all my comment about, "...and if it is leaking plutonium, I know who to call," that assumes that I know it's leaking plutonium. And when it comes to ourselves, we often don't. That feeling of urgency can override even our best attempts at self-governance, in the same way that a magician's patter can distract us from catching his sleight-of-hand.

And even with help, it's still a slow process. Thirty bucks this paycheck and thirty bucks next pay check don't add up very quickly. At that rate, it would take me 43 months to earn one semester's tuition, and another 86 months to pay cash for a thoroughly modest used car. That's a total of 10 years, 9 months, for those keeping score. It seems a bit like rush-hour traffic sometimes-- lots of stop-and-go while facing other people's rear ends and making very little progress. But at least, it seems I have good companions for the trip.

Monday, May 7, 2007

How I Stopped Buying Food and Survived for Six Whole Days

For years now, I've called May "The Month of No Money." An average May involves two Mothers Days, three birthdays, an anniversary, an annual luncheon, and at least two unscheduled events. And they all seem to happen in pairs. Usually during short-money weeks.

This year is no exception. I found myself having to fund a couple's shower, a visit from an out-of-town friend, a birthday party, two Mothers Days, and a day trip--all the same week!-- out of the same paycheck that had already covered my rent, gym dues, two weeks' worth of groceries, and two credit card payments. Thank God I'd already paid for that luncheon. I took one look at the paltry sum left over-- a sum that ordinarily wouldn't be enough to get me through a week without events-- and realized that the time had come to implement drastic measures. Such as not buying any more food.

No crumble cake at Starbucks because I overslept. No lunches from the sandwich place because my co-workers were putting in an order. No bags of salad greens or jar of artichokes or can of smoked oysters on the way home to make a quick dinner. I'd just put two weeks' worth of groceries in the house; surely they could last a whole two weeks.

Well, yes, but I wasn't quite sure that I could.

It wasn't my tummy that was rumbling; it was my sense of entitlement. Understand that I was in no danger of starving, or even of having to eat anything I didn't like, since I'd bought all the food in the first place. But I was in danger of having to settle for something that didn't move me right at that very moment, like cooked frozen veggies when I really wanted a salad, or of having to eat the same thing for dinner several nights in a row because I still had four servings left. Or of disrupting my whole weekend by not buying Saturday breakfast out when my best friend Denise and I both conveniently ran out of time to eat breakfast at home.

But I did all those things anyway. I ate my cooked broccoli with bleu cheese dressing and got something like five encores out of the Italian sausage soup. I called up Denise and reminded her not only to eat breakfast before she came over, but to check her fridge for lunch food so I'd know if I should bring anything over. When I went to the luncheon, I didn't buy a drink at the bar. When Denise came over for dinner on Sunday night, I served her leftover baked chicken with a complete lack of self-consciousness. For probably the first time since college, I was managing to live day-to-day without spending money.

I'm not saying I went completely without cheating. I started last Tuesday with $40 in my pocket, and spent over half of it that very day on-- you guessed it-- meals out. I've bought three bottles of water at the gym (though I finally got wise and saved the last one to refill for next time). When I overslept last Friday, I bought a lox-and-bagel sandwich and a bottle of iced tea with the last of my ready cash. The other days, I've been breakfasting on the granola bars and Pop Tarts we keep in the break room at work. But for five-and-a-half days out of the last seven, I haven't bought any extra food. And I haven't broken out my ATM card even once since the grocery run.

In the beginning, there was a definite feeling of pressure. It wasn't the holding-my-breath-for-two-weeks kind of feeling that I usually get during a money crunch; I knew I wasn't going to overdraw my bank account. It was more like the kind of pressure that comes with trying to break a bad habit. Which, come to think of it, is exactly what I was doing. But the more I did it, the easier it got. One short week later-- allowing for the Sunday luncheon and the two meals I haven't eaten yet-- I've had six homemade dinners, five homemade lunches, and four homemade breakfasts (six, if you count the break room supplies). I calculate that I've saved at least $80, or possibly more depending on how long those groceries last. And that was really the whole point. It wasn't about learning to eat better or to manage my time more wisely, though they've both been valuable side effects. It was about learning to control my spending. And I think I have laid a small but very solid foundation for that-- even if I do have occasional flashbacks to my broke college days.

And if I survive the next six days-- the ones with all the events in them-- I just might have enough resources to survive the remaining two birthdays, another party for a different out-of-town friend, Memorial Day festivities, a couple of other unplanned events, and the airline tickets for that friend's wedding in June. But that's another paycheck.

An Open Letter to Our Candidates

Dear Candidate,

Thank you for taking the time to find out which issues are important to me as a voter. You’ll find I’m quite low-maintenance, as I don’t demand all the latest trendy features from my elected officials. I’ve come to understand that “entitlement” is government-speak for “white elephant”, a beast that will not only ruin me, but trample all over my boundaries and my neighbors and leave a big mess of manure in its wake—and I simply can’t afford the expense.

For instance, I don’t want socialized medicine. If I wanted to wait five years for an operation, I would opt out of my health plan and invest the difference. That way, when my doctor tells me that the government will no longer cover the procedure because not enough people need it, I can pay the airfare to another country where doctors are still allowed to heal people, and have it done there.

I don’t need a tax break for driving a hybrid car. If I didn’t deserve one during all those years of riding public transportation and walking everywhere, I can’t in good conscience take one for expanding my carbon footprint. Please rest assured that when I do get a car, I will do the responsible thing and choose a 100% post-consumer recycled car that has as many good years left in it as a new hybrid, only without the environmental impact of a new manufacture. The reduced cost and smaller property taxes will be more than sufficient to cover any tax break I might have received. And if I do it just right, I’ll even be able to give a local small business a boost.

I’m not looking for additional restrictions against religion in public places. Frankly, I’m bracing for the day when the Declaration of Independence gets removed from classrooms for that phrase about being “endowed by their Creator.” That’s if the “all men are created equal” doesn’t get it yanked first for lack of inclusive language.

You’ll be relieved to note that I don’t expect you to champion mandatory prayer in public schools either. It is my own responsibility to bring up my children in the faith, and if they grow up to be godless heathens, I have no one to blame but myself. For that matter, I don’t expect further government oversight of my retirement fund or the fast-food industry, either. I understand that overconsumption now causes problems later, and the government is not expected to rescue me from my own lack of good judgment if I choose to ignore the warnings.

Speaking of warnings, I personally see no reason why I should have to make a choice between having freedom and having an atmosphere. Both are necessary and we all know it, so kindly stop with the fear-mongering already. That also goes for the zero-tolerance policies. Taking away teenagers’ nail clippers is not going to prevent a school shooting, and firing foul-mouthed commentators is not going to clean up the Billboard Top Ten.

Setting aside all of these hot-button issues should give you the resources you need to concentrate on the things that are really important, such as making sure that our police, emergency services, and military personnel are fully empowered to do the jobs for which they were hired. Trust me, if my house catches on fire or someone tries to break in, I’m not going to be worried about the additional tax burden for calling 911. And while we’re on the subject of those three little numbers, what ever happened to “United We Stand”? If we took all the energy and passion wasted on partisan infighting and directed it toward fighting the terrorists, we’d already be done with the war in Iraq.

Oh—and when you do get to that part about defending the Constitution, please remember that the First Amendment applies to both parties equally and that the Second Amendment has not gone conveniently missing.

I understand that citizenship carries certain inherent responsibilities, and I am prepared to exercise mine. This includes staying abreast of the issues, keeping track of your voting record, and making sure that you know my needs as a constituent. Consider it my thanks for your generous offer to represent me.

Sincerely,

Erin_Coda, Instigator
Somewhere, Virginia