Money

Saturation Point

Saturation Point

I want it. 

But how much should I spend on it?

I used to just spend what I wanted. When I wanted to. Without giving thought to how much I was spending. 

I used to believe that spending more meant I was buying higher quality. And that spending less meant a better deal.

I didn’t give conscious thought to what I wanted to spend. I allowed the item, or the situation, to dictate its price to me - and I blindly followed.

I reacted to situations. I reacted to the price tag. I justified something if I wanted it enough.

I didn’t have my own personal idea about value. Or about what something was worth to me. Or about what the exchange of dollars really meant.

I was living in the world of instant gratification.

If I wanted something. I got it. And most of the time I didn’t even look at the price tag.

This is the very foundation of impulse buying.

If you haven’t taken the time to know what you want. And you haven’t consciously decided how much you’d like to spend. 

No worries.

Marketers will decide for you.

They know that they can seduce you with a sale.

Or a brightly placed display.

Or an “Only 3 left.”

They know that they can tell you why it’s urgent to spend. Now. This much.

And that it works.

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What A Lemon Tree Taught Me About Mon

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I have an over-achieving lemon tree in my back yard.

It's a small tree. It doesn't take up a lot of space.

But it is serious about lemon production.

It's not like a regular citrus tree with its arms reaching up to the sun. It more like a weeping willow with heavy lemon-laden branches. 

There are at least five hundred lemons on it right now. (I didn't count... just go with my story here.)

When I first moved in, it was spring.

I thought lemons were in season.

And I picked tons of them.

And tried to use them all.

And then they rotted on my counter tops.

And the lemon tree kept on making lemons.

Summer came.

Still lemon season.

I ignored the tree.

The Power Of Numbers

The Power Of Numbers

Who would we be without our numbers?

The number of dollars in our bank accounts.

The number of bills waiting to be paid.

The number on the calendar.

The number of minutes left before we can clock out.

The number of hours we spend in our car.

The number of years it has been since we last travelled.

The number on the scale.

The number on our pair of jeans.

The number of drinks we had last night.

The number of crunches we promise to do tomorrow.

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Lost Luggage

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Lost Luggage

I was in some form of debt for nearly 20 years. 

The last three years of my life have been dedicated to radical debt eradication.

I didn't realize it at the time - but debt was kind of like my baby.

I thought about it constantly.

I would strategize about how to pay it down.

I would run numbers in my head.

I had a running calculation everytime I spent money.

Or made money.

I was obsessed.

This wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

It kept me passionate.

It kept me focused.

It provided momentum and motivation.

$571,817.68 Down And $0 To Go

571,817.68 is a lot of dollars.

On January 18, 2009, this is how much I owed in debt.

After a decade of living beyond my means.

A couple of lousy real estate transactions.

And a failed marriage.

 

I have carried this debt for nearly three years.

Watching each month as the numbers crawled toward zero.

And yesterday, I made my very last payment.

New balance: $0.00.

 

If I stacked 571,817 dollar bills into a pile and weighed it - it would be 1,167 pounds.

 

That's literally HALF a ton.

The debt I carried weighed as much as a grizzly bear.

Saying Goodbye To Nancy

Saying Goodbye To Nancy

Five years ago, summer of 2006, I bought a house. On Nancy Avenue.

Well, more accurately, I mortagaged a house. 

And then, two and half years ago, I moved out of that house.

This past Friday, I finally paid the last dollar I owed for it.

The Nancy House was a very hard lesson learned.

If I had a way to deliver a letter to my 2006-self. One that could spare her from making this decision. One that could save her unnecessary suffering.

This is what I'd say:

 

Do You Rent Or Own?

Do You Rent Or Own?

And no, I'm not talking about houses here.

I'm talking about your money.

I'm talking about my money.

Do you own your money? Or do you rent your money?

For the past 19 years, I've been renting my money.

For the past 19 years, I've been in debt in one way or another. Car loans, students loans, credit cards, mortgages, equity lines, business loans, and personal loans.

For the past 19 years, I've been paying other people for the privilege (seriously makes me want to gag) to rent their money.

Chase United Mileage Plus card offered me a deal to rent their money. And as a bonus for renting, I got a few miles and ended up taking a few trips that required me to rent even more money.

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Talking To Kids About Money

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Talking To Kids About Money

I am driving my daughter to her friends house for a sleepover. We are making small talk. I'm still in denial that she's growing up and my almost-nine-year-old wants to spend the night away from home. It was just two minutes ago that she needed Mommy for everything. She's growing up faster than I am.

She says, "I can't wait to see Lilly's house."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I want to see if she lives in a fancy house or if she is poor." 

At this point, I'm a little woried, but I have to ask anyway. "Do we live in a fancy house?"

She looks at me as if I just asked her if I was a purple unicorn. Like, I'm asking her a trick question because the answer is so obvious.

"No, mom. We're poor."

Ok. Ouch. That was below the belt. Regaining my focus, I ask, "What's the difference between a fancy house and a poor house?"

The Devil With A Blue Dress On

The Devil With A Blue Dress On

I own a blue dress.

Actually - not just a blue dress.

A beautiful turquoise, knit silk, designed-on-the-bias, hug-every-curve-perfectly, swagga-like-none-otha Gucci dress.

And let's be clear, friends.

This dress is a lie. 

I'll tell you a lil somethin' about me.  I live in a beach town. Dressed-up here means wearing our fancy-jeans with a newer pair of flip-flops. 

I work from home. Mostly in my pajamas or in my yoga clothes.

As you know from previous posts - I am pretty vain, but even I am not going to wear Gucci to the grocery store.

I own this dress and I have worn it 3 times. The second time I wore it, a very drunk woman spilled a giant glass of red wine down the right hand side of it. After three trips to different dry cleaners, I've worn it once more. The stain still hasn't quite come out - but it's passable. (Side note: the words 'passable' and 'Gucci' should never be used together in the same paragraph. Such a disgrace.)