Writing on the Wall

Where to start?  Bleck.  Argh.  Thbbbbt! 


There's a part of me so proud of the changes I've made...and a part of me discouraged by the habits that linger.  It's like I've just caught myself drawing on the walls in Sharpie; I'm simultaneously impressed by the artistry, and pissed about the mess to be undone.

While during these last quiet months I can celebrate the fact that, since August, I've not incurred additional debt, I can also bemoan the fact that creditors call hourly.  

You see, in September while short on dollars to cover all bases, I paid only a portion of my monthly payment on two accounts.  I figured, "Can't pay it all, but I'll demonstrate the effort.  Surely, in these hard times, the credit companies will recognize and respect this."  Not so.  The next month, the calls and recorded messages began, "This is Lisa, please contact us to discuss some options for repayment of your account."  Apparently, despite the fact that my October payment was full and on time, the lacking full payment from September haunts me still as "late."  A mar on my credit and a major annoyance.  Talking with the representatives has been helpful, and I continue to pay my minimum plus additional dollars to close the gap of what's due, but I've garnered some late payments and haven't helped my credit rating.

Additionally, I've done a great job of avoiding that vital step called "monthly budgeting."  While I've made it to the end of the month without begging, borrowing, or stealing, I'm sick of the uneasiness this creates...and the dumb choices I make. 


This holiday season I'm pleased to state that I made more gifts than I purchases, all with less expense and greater value.  I've cut and colored my own hair.  I've saved for, rather than charged, the basic cosmetics and hair products when they've run out.  I've even stoked up the ole crockpot for less expensive and less time intensive meals.  Repurposing clothing?  I'm all about it.  I'm making changes... and, I'll admit, really enjoying the results.  

BUT, I'm not over the hump yet.  And the bleak picture of forever pinching pennies absolutely drives me crazy.  Will I ever have enough money to go on vacation?  Will I ever get to purchase jeans that actually fit me again?  What kind of additional income can I generate to actually push me through this as fast as possible without sacrificing time with my son or my sanity?  When can I quit shopping at WinCo, the warehouse store where little children scream and holler about buying another box of SugarPops and parents wheeze to heft up another case of soda, but we all get good deals?

Aaaaaargggggh!  I absolutely hate this.  

While it's comforting to share in the notion that many Americans share my plight in this time of economic unrest, it doesn't make it better, or finished, or history.  And I want to be done.  If success is measured by desire, I am sure to hit my goal of debtlessness by September 4, 2012.  Sure to hit my goal.

So, today, I measure my victories in the war against my bad habits, and renew the surge against the situation.  Today, I pencil in the budget one more time and finally make that call to a consumer credit counseling service.  Damn it.  Damn it.  Damn it.  Writing's on the wall.

Temptations

I feel like I'm on a diet.  On a diet at Costco on Sample Saturday.  Everything looks good.  And, little bites don't really count...do they?

I'm hungry.  I'm hungry for all of the ways I used to blow money.  Like stopping for coffee.  Or having lunch out.  Or buying something at the market that isn't on sale.  Little bites, that most definitely count.

The temptations this month are plentiful, even if the dollars are scarce.  October marks my one year anniversary of dating the most terrific man in the land, my son's ninth incredible year on the planet, the unfortunate end of the allowable lapse between hair color treatments, and Halloween money magnets like treats and costumes.  Not all of these can be attended to on a monthly budget.  Especially one $500 less than usual due to last month's draw.

Life on a vow of credit celibacy is not luxe.

Yes,  this is a month where my mommy delusions kick in and I battle the unceasing compulsion to purchase the stuff of Zane's every desire.  Not that I seriously entertained the items on his much talked about wish list this year.  I may not be the only delusional member of my family if he was seriously expecting that electric scooter,  Pug puppy,  cell phone, and new DSi with games.  But, I confess, in years past, efforts to come close to such a list would have been my dearest aim...all without once calculating the impact on my pocketbook.

I suppose that's the luxury of credit - no immediate impact.  In terms of dieting, this kind of shopping bears much in likeness to binge eating at Thanksgiving.  Everything looks so good...and it's only once a year...I'll risk the indigestion and the wild discomfort of a bloated tummy just so I can have a slice of each of those desserts...and some more stuffing with gravy...and another blackberry daiquiri.  Of course, there is indigestion and bloating and discomfort and one swears she'll never eat that much again in all her life.  Until the company Christmas party...and then family feasts...and then New Years...and then, 'Hey!  I can't fit into my jeans!  How did this happen?!"

This year, though, this year for the birthday celebrations, I did just as the women's magazines suggest their readers do in the event of festive holiday occasions -  I made a plan, had a snack at home before leaving the house (aka, checked the bank account), and spent wisely.   Also, I did my best to look dashing so as to distract myself and others from the old eating/spending habits I was avoiding.

My plan:  shop and plan ahead, look for deals, include only the necessary
My pre-party snack:  find things that I can make or do without any expense
My wise spending:  spend less than $50 on gifts, and less than $30 on the party


Working the plan:
It was quickly decided by Zane's dad (who has always handled dollars wisely) and I, that simple and easy were key factors in this year's celebration.  That boded well for the budget.  The location would be Farmer John's Pumpkin Patch and Corn Maze.  I'd make the cupcakes.  He'd pick up some pizzas and drinks.  We'd give the kids pumpkins as their goodies.  Happily, there's no charge for using their covered picnic area, the maze admission was inexpensive, and the outdoor venue meant these third graders could run and holler to their hearts' contentment without disturbing the peace.  Given the sugar content in the cupcakes, that was a fortunate bonus.

In preparation, I skipped purchasing and mailing invitations and opted for the quick and dirty text message to the moms.  I'm still a little embarrassed by this, but wow.  It worked. Making the cupcakes was a snap.  Where I typically go the whole "from scratch" route, for this audience, I chose Betty Crocker mix and frosting.  Pop that batter in mini-cupcake tins and we're off on the road of creativity.  Whooo!

Gift wise, I knew I'd fall short of the wish list.  But, fortunate for me, my kid is a bit of a sentimentalist.  I mined through a year of family outing photos and created a whole little album detailing Zane's adventures.  Walgreen's had a web special of a 50% discount on 4X6 prints upon which I capitalized and voila!  Instant pleaser!  And, only $11.00.

Looking great wise?  Well, I wore a hat to hide my much grown out dye job. :)  Voila.  Birthday party success.

And, the best reward, even better than coming in on budget, was Zane's last thought before heading off to bed, "I wish every day could be like this..."

Progress?

This is hard.

I don't like it.

I just scrounged $5.00 from the ends of the earth to put a few more gallons of gas in my tank so that I could avoid getting stranded on the side of the road...and over-draughts.

The upside is that I haven't incurred debt since mid-August.

Yeah for me.

But, this is hard and I don' t like it.

Grace to Accept

This summer at a boat ramp along the Umpqua River, my friend Jon offered assistance. "Hey, Ang, need a hand?"  I was pumping up my kayak, something of an endeavor in the 90 degree swelter but worth the work given the sweet reward of lounging in it through Sunburn Alley all afternoon.

"Oh, nah.  Thanks, though.  I - "
"...I can do it." He'd finished my sentence.  Turning to my mom, who nearby slathered my son in SPF 750, he chided, "All week, any time I've offered help, she's replied, "Oh, thanks, I can do it."

I rolled my eyes between pumps.  A chivalrous offer, but, really, I did have the task easily in hand.

But Jon, who happens to have his PhD, had perhaps accurately diagnosed a condition from which I've long suffered.  Icandoitallitus.

Couldn't say how I contracted it.  Maybe it all started in college (particularly during my women's studies courses) when I decided I could open my own doors, thank you very much.  Or during new-parenthood when I developed a talent for dancing hollering baby, stroller, diaper bag, purse, and seven bags of groceries across a giant parking lot through a maze of traffic during a thunderstorm without losing my balance or sense of humor.  Or when I purchased a "starter home" and decided to handle as many of the fixer projects as possible on my own.  Who knows when it started.  But, I do know somewhere along the line I decided I could do anything I set my mind on. Icandoitallitus.

Unfortunately, my case is fairly severe.  For instance, last summer I conducted a move from one abode to a new one entirely on my own.  But, since I had no furniture to actually move, that point is a lot less impressive than the fact that I single handedly built all of the furnishings at my new address.  Imagine a 5'4'' woman hauling 100 pound boxes up stairs and erecting bookcases, bedframes, and desks into the wee hours of several August nights, squinting through bleary eyes at IKEA assembly instructions forbidding herself to have that drink of water/bathroom break/snack until the last bolt was secured.  A sorry sight, especially considering the numerous offers of help from friends, family, co-workers, and my new neighbors.  "Oh, I can do it.  Thanks, though."

Regardless the challenge, "I can do it" has been my anthem.

Many long years of icandoitallitus have made accepting assistance, even in times of need, akin to, oh, I dunno, learning to swim the "old-fashioned way" where your school of hard knocks uncle throws you off a dock and harps, "Well, you'll either learn to swim or drown!" while you gasp and thrash, scared, embarrassed, and wishing like hell you'd not even gotten out of the car in the first place.  

Which is exactly how I've felt these last couple weeks.  I absolutely HATE being so vulnerable as to need help.  Damn, icandoitallitus.

A while back my loving boyfriend smuggled a Costco run into my pantry.  Which is to say, while I was busy with something else, he stocked my kitchen.  Each time I opened a cupboard for the next ten days or so, I discovered a new surprise...an army of rice milk cartons waiting on the bottom shelf,  a behemoth bottle of olive oil and pasta in every shape ever created crowding the baking supplies,  almond butter standing ready in the fridge, a plethora of Annie's mac and cheese preparing for the occasion of the next quick lunch or dinner.  I wonder if folks stocked up like this for Y2K?  I'm ready for Arctic Blast 2010!

Had he asked, "Babe, you need me to grab some groceries for you?"  I'd have answered with a, "No, thanks,  I can do it."

But, he didn't.  Which goes to show how well he knows me.  And, how stubborn I can be.

Instead, he took charge "tough-love therapy-style" in a bold gesture that silently retorted, "Maybe you can, but you don't have to," to my usual, "I can do it."  His assistance has insured I'll stay within a meager food budget this month.  I'm feeling the love, one carton of rice milk at a time.

My parents have stepped in as well.

Mom must have shared my blog with my dad last week, for on Saturday afternoon I got a call from him that started, "Angie, you know me.  I like to have everything taken care of..."  (His tone and wording made me fear the worst...What the heck could be so important that this usually happy-go-lucky guy would begin all "I like to have everything taken care of..."?)  I braced myself.

"Have you already listed your car on Craigslist?  Well, it doesn't matter if you have."  (I heard my mom say something to him in the background.)  "How much is your car payment?"

"What?  Dad, are you okay?"

"We don't want you to sell your car.  It's a different economy.  The "cash for clunkers" has really changed the used car market.  You're not going to find a good used car that's any better than yours.  I mean, is yours okay?  It works, right?"

"Yeah, Dad, it works fine, I just need to get rid of my monthly payment."

"Well, your mom and I would like to pay it.  No, I didn't mean that.  Your mom and I are GOING to take care of your payment.  Don't sell your car. What do you think you could replace it with? Something with unreliable brakes and no airbags?  Keep your car.  We'll help you."

I was unable to speak.  First I felt relief that the call wasn't about the dwindling health of a family member.  Then I was pissed that my parents were TELLING me what they were going to do.  I mean, I'm an adult, right?  I'm a parent myself, right?  Can they still legitimately pull rank?  Humph!  Then I was embarrassed that my retired parents were compelled to bail out their daughter, a working professional/college graduate/person who's lived on her own pretty much since moving to college.  Really, Angela?  Has it come to this?  Fouled up your money so much that your parents have to help?

"Dad, thank you, but I don't need the help.  It's okay.  I can do it.  I'm planning to sell the car.  Bluebook says I'll make at least two grand on it.  I'm looking at VW Bugs.  I can get a decent one for that.  Then I won't have a payment and I can devote those dollars to paying down consumer debt."

"Angie," (no one but my folks call me Angie) "A BUG?  Do you know anything about the affect of front impact on those things?  No airbags.  They break all the time..." He kept going. I was having trouble breathing.  Jeff had glanced up from his reading in concern more than a few times.

"...Listen...hold on, your mom's telling me something...Yes.  Listen, Angie, we're putting a check in the mail."

Overwhelmed, I could neither accepted or decline their offer/demand.  How can one swallow her pride so quickly?

Because the world spins this way, the next day I had the opportunity to test-drive a 1972 Super Beetle.  (Jeff and I had looked up all manner of Beetles on Craigslist and even visited some pro sites to learn the distinctions between Beetles and Super Beetles.  I felt so educated!)  If I was serious about purchasing one of those cutie pies, prudence dictated that I would at least get behind the wheel first.

The seller is a local preacher.  Somehow that made me feel better about going to check it out, despite my dad's admonishments. Zane was my co-pilot.

Leo the Preacher handed me the key.  I asked, "Is there anything we need to know?"

"Nope.  It's a 37 year old car.  It'll tell you everything up front."  He left us in the driveway.

Getting in was our first challenge.  The doors didn't exactly spring open when we pulled on the handle.  Indeed, we had to use real muscle to open them.

"Part of the fun, right, Zane?"  He giggled and climbed in.

Then we reached for our seatbelts.  Hmm...not exactly the mechanized, automatically retracting kind our Jetta has.  Faint memories played reminding me, "Angie, this is how all cars were when you were small..." After some wrestling, we were clicked in.

Excited, I wondered if adjusting the seat (the cushion of which sagged lopsidedly toward the door positioning me just a few inches off the floor of the cab) was really necessary?  I slid it forward only to feel it slide rapidly backward several times before deciding, no, I could just prop myself upon the edge.

Adjusted the mirror.

Inserted the key and turned it.

Deafening noise! Lurch, lurch! Crash!

We'd rammed in to Preacher Leo's garage.

The combination of the seat and neglecting to push in the clutch completely had resulted in a nice test of the car's bumper.  It was totally fine.  What excellent automotive design!  Front impact stats my ass, Dad!  It was totally fine!  Preacher Leo's garage door frame was...er...dented?

I looked at Zane.  He looked at me.  Was his face ashen?

I wrestled out of the car in hopes of beckoning the Preacher.  Wouldn't he have heard the impact?  I knocked on his door.  He didn't answer.  All I could think was , "Woe, though we walk in the valley of death..."

Returning to the car Zane calmly asked, "Hey, Mom?  Does this have airbags?"  I laughed.  He didn't think it was funny.

Second round, I placed my foot on the clutch but was unable to get the car to idle in first.  THIS made Preacher Leo AND his son come out to marvel at the woman who had broken their house and made their car screech so hideously.  Leo had to show me how to get the car in reverse...and how to adjust the seat.  (The stick shift had no gear markings or indicator on the handle!)

E V E N T U A L L Y, I maneuvered that purple, stinky, dusty, beast away from the garage and we tooled loudly through the neighborhood.  I'm sure I had a grin on my face the entire time.  We had a blast!  How fun to discover the "features" of the interior.

"Mom!  Look!  Roll down windows!"
"Ooooo!"  I'd have tried mine too, but I feared prying my hands from the wheel may have resulted in another bumper test.

Prior to her reversal in discretion about me sellign my car, Mom had emailed a detailed list of attributes to scan for in a used car.  (She's something of a motorhead having been a street racer in Oakland, California back in the day.  She use to change the oil and shocks in her Austin Healey Sprite, I think the story goes.)  Dutiful daughter, we pulled our potential purchase over and opened the trunk to checkout the hoses and wires.  I did the undercarriage inspection just as she'd specified.  I'm sure Mom would have known what she was looking at.  Neither Zane nor I did.  But, we were proud of ourselves for having found the engine.

Leo the Preacher was right.  The car did tell me everything I needed to know.  She told me two things...First, she didn't want me around.  Second, my dad was right.

The Preacher refused compensation for the facia board of his garage.  No hard sale from him.  Maybe he would have felt uncomfortably responsible for the fate of the single mom and her cute kid? Or,  perhaps he just wanted me to get the hell away from his car and house that afternoon?   Either way, Zane and I departed, thankful for the adventure...and the relative luxury of our 2002 Jetta.  Though I've never had need for its airbags, I felt a wave of gratefulness for their presence.  Perhaps Zane did too.

Two days passed before an envelope with my mom's handwriting appeared in the mailbox.  The enclosed card read, "Zane deserves a safe car.  And so do you!"

Argh!  "I can do this on my own!" I spat at the card.
 But it politely retorted, "I know, but you don't have to."

I don't want anyone to feel or be responsible for me.  Especially, I don't want anyone to be responsible for the mess I've made with money.

There's a lot more that could be said here, the internal processes, the attempts at developing an argument sensible enough to guiltlessly deny their gesture of support.  But, what it comes down to is gratitude.  I'm so flippin' grateful.  How many people face the same kinds of financial struggles that I do?  How do they make it if they don't have the support that Zane and I do?  How would I make it without Jeff and my parents?

This week, I feel richer than I ever have.  I'm learning the grace to accept help -  daily tonic against icandoitiallitus.

Simple Pleasures

I sat alone in my car, the phone call reverberating. 


Angela:   So you're telling me, Mike, that signing on for an $8,000 personal loan, secured by the car I'm soon to be selling, as well as applying for a $2,500 line of credit (for use in "emergencies only") is the best way for me to make a dent in my debt, and improve my credit scores so that I can then be more attractive to financial lending institutions who might then increase the amount I can borrow (at lower rates) to consolidate debt and pay it down more quickly.


Mike (the loan guy):  Correct.


Angela:  And what you offer, in all of your experience,  is the best-case scenario?


Mike:  Absolutely.


Angela:  Mike, about a month ago, I woke up to my ridiculousness of my financial status and how I have actively created if for the majority of my adult life.  It's not pretty.


Mike:  I know.


Angela:  Well, I'm dedicated to getting correcting all of this before I'm 40.  I want to make a change, and I want to do efficiently, effectively, now.  Doesn't what you're explaining sound like games?  I have to take more credit to pay down credit?  


Mike:  Angela, no one is going to give you a consolidation loan for the amount you requested.  Your ratio of debt to income wouldn't support it.  You have nothing to secure the loan with.  Maybe if you secured a co-signor or...  


Angela:  Mike...(and I wanted to scream, "I get it!  But I'm awake!  Help me!  There's no way what you're saying is a ladder out!"), thank you for your time and the information.


Mike:  Shall we schedule an appointment for tomorrow?  Want to grab your W2 and your most recent paystub?


Angela:  Let me talk this over with a few folks.  I'll call you.  Thanks, Mike.




There, with the 80 degree Friday afternoon heat augmenting my own boiling emotions, it wasn't easy to keep from beating myself up.  How incredibly stupid I've been!  What was I thinking? I am in so far over my head!  How embarrassing!  If there was a pageant for the consumer debt dumb, I'd be wearing the Ms. Universe crown.


It took more than a couple deep breaths to remember a beat up version of myself would perform far less successfully.  So, although my whole body seemed slower, heavier and emptier at Mike's attempt to make quota for the month, I reminded myself (just like Jack Handy), "I'm good enough.  I'm smart enough.  And, golldarnit, people like me."  


Okay not really.  But, I did talk myself out of floundering in pity.  


Here's why:  There is always a way.


Proof:  September 2009


September 2009 is the tightest month I've every created for myself.  Even though, I've given up credit,  created a budget, sold stuff on craigslist, and used coupons.  It's tight.  So tight, I'll need to take a draw on next month's pay to cover my school loan and car payment.


And, still, I'm okay.  Better than okay, really.  I'm sleeping well.  I have energy even at the end of a long day spent spinning my most theatrical efforts to engage high school sophomores in the "wonders of the Oxford comma" and the "many faces of nouns".   I have energy.  I feel fortunate.  The love and support of my family and friends daily humbles me.    


Attribute it to finally facing facts and taking action.  Chalk it up to the elimination of all the time and energy  worry and fear about my finances use to monopolize.  Thank those hours I've spent at my desk and online scrutinizing bank statements and penciling out the month's expenses.  Give credit to the actions I've taken to avoid stalking ostrich-like into overdrafts and late fees.  Whatever the source, I feel the effect.  And it is good.  


Know how the perfect perspective offers itself at the perfect time?  My junior counselor at leadership camp this summer (a Loyola Marymount freshman and recent Central Linn valedictorian) found this excerpt in one of the text books she was pre-reading during the days prior to classes and sent it my way.  She couldn't have known how fitting it would become to me this month:


"...But for the fortunate majority of us- those of us with jobs, with some savings, with incomes that let us make ends meet- are already discovering that living within one's means doesn't necessarily diminish quality of life. In fact, dialing down the money madness, and material envy and acquisitiveness can actually make us feel better. Some of the best things in life really are free, or at least inexpensive."


Some of the best things in life really are free, or at least inexpensive.


Indeed.


I haven't yet decided what to do about Mike and his "best-case scenario."  Perhaps playing the numbers game and purchasing a "loan product" would be a good way to go.  If not for the infinite wisdom of my   boyfriend, I might have just driven to Salem yesterday and signed on the dotted line in Mike's cubicle.  (In so many ways I just want a fairy godmother - like Mike - to make it all better.)   But, my better half coached me to do the footwork.   Call around, do some research, follow through on my intention to call the Consumer Credit Service.  And I have.  Funny how being honest with myself also fuels a desire to gather accurate, verified  information before making commitments...  Funny how good it feels to collect and manage that information and make decisions based on fact rather than fear.


There's a to do list pertinent to creating this foundation of prosperity on my desk as long as I am tall; all that research and decision making is part of it.  


But, in true yin for the yang spirit, there's also a list of simple pleasures I've enjoyed these last few weeks at least twice as long.  Some of the best things in life.  Pleasures that cost little, but make me feel like a million bucks.  They're fueling me to keep checking off the "to do's"  and weather the gloominess the reality this situation could bring.


Here are a few:


1.  Picking late-season raspberries on a warm evening at sunset with Triawn and our sons at Draper Farms.  For $1.50 a pound we took home memories, jam making, and joy.


2.  Braving my bathroom cupboard to "mine" for shampoo, conditioner, and styling product bottles holding tiny amounts of 'the goods' that also pack huge scent memories of seasons past.


3.  Checking my online bank statement to see...exactly what I expected to see because I'm on top of my dollars this month.


4.   Borrowing music CDs from the public library.  There's such good music there!  And it's free!


5.  Talking about things other than money.  


6.  Running with our Cross Country team.  A work out AND inspiration.  Plus, the valley is GORGEOUS this time of year.


7.  Redeeming my Dutch Bros coffee card for a free mocha on a Friday morning.


8.  Taking long, long showers.  (May not be good for my water bill...but, dang; that feels good.)


9.  Exchanging massages and foot rubs with my boyfriend.


10.  Running the Trask Mountain Escape...muddily, blissfully.


11.  Joining folks for pre-harvest gatherings.


12.  Finding a way to decorate my new classroom without spending any dough, being surprised by Jeff's donations of lamps and plants, and hearing my students and colleagues comment on the serenity the space brings.  (A high school classroom?  Is it possible? :)


13.  Enjoying a pedicure treat with my friend.  Conversation and sisterhood?  Always always sweet.


14.  Allowing myself to just collapse for a nap, or movie watching, or "unassigned" reading in bed.


15.  Sitting down to breakfast in the morning with my boys.


16.  Observing the subtle changing of the maples.


17.  Peeking through the window of Facebook into the lives of friends far and near.


18.  Being a more steady email correspondent with my mom and dad...who are both recently retired...and therefore somehow more entertaining than ever.


19.  Reuniting with former students at the McMinnville Market - how sophisticated and talented they are!


20.  Savoring the surreal colors of the sunrises on weekday mornings.


21.  Joining this river of bloggers and receiving feedback on-line and in person.


22.  Anticipating the release of Int'l Male's debut CD "Anthems of Potency" and marveling at the talent of all invovled.


23.  Just being near my boyfriend at the end of the day.


24.  Learning German from my third grader.


25.  Attempting to enjoy the advent of his football "career".


26.  Watching my "volunteer" pumpkins emerge along the patio garden.


27.  Closing the day thinking, "You know, I did okay to day."


28.  Hearing my little one sing in the shower in the morning.


29.  Borrowing good books from friends and then getting to talk with them all about the characters and such...


30.  Laughing with my son...anytime, anywhere.


...and many, many, many more riches too numerous to count.




Mike called and left a message again today. 


Mike:  Angela, be sure to give me a call so we can set up an appointment for Monday and get this thing going.


I must be on his short list.  Wonder what our next conversation holds...For now, the draw on my paycheck has been deposited and the bills have been paid.  I'm going to pick up some brautwurst and BBQ with my boys on this warm Friday night.  


All good.  

Words

Oh, the power of language.

Time to take more seriously what Don Miguel Ruiz calls "impeccability" of my words.  An instance in example - the other night I was asked if I had made the cover for a pillow on my bed.  In the past, I might have answered, "No, I bought it."  But, compelled to truthfulness by the act of "waking up" to my finances, I quipped instead, "No, I purchased it on credit."  Though not quite as satisfying a statement, it's honest.  How often have I said "I bought it..." when really I'd charged?  Can I really say I own it if I still pay for it everyday?  Nope.  Not honestly.  Not with impeccability.

Even in conversations with my son a shift in wording about money is occurring.  When he asked to  stop at Dutch Bros for hot chocolate yesterday, I responded not with my customary "Sure!  I could use a coffee too!" and not with "Nope, we're trying to save money."

Oh, no.

Surprising myself, I stated instead, "We're being smart with our money these days.  Let's make some hot chocolate at home, instead."    Again, this was not as satisfying as finding the next drive-thru java joint.  But honestly, I can't use a coffee.  There's no use spending $3.50 for a mocha when I've got only $70.00 budgeted for food this week.  And we're not TRYING to save money...we ARE saving money.  It's how we're making money work for us rather than work us. It's an active choice...one mocha at a time.

Saying something like, "I've got debt," or "I'm really struggling with  money right now,"  those statements wield a ton of power.  But, to me, "I've got debt" sounds a lot like "I've got a dog."  Now, having a dog's real nice.  Having debt is not.  Though debt might be waiting for me when I get home, and it might curl up with me at night in bed,  it is nothing I want to feed.  It's not welcome. And it's certainly not something I want to keep around.   I'm no longer going to feed this debt.  It needs to do the whole tail between the legs bit and sulk away.

"I'm really struggling with money" rings curiously of waging a losing battle.  No thanks; I'm in it to win it.  Contrastingly, statements like, "I'm paying down debt," and "I'm creating a foundation of prosperity" have more active, positive repercussions.  There's still acceptance of responsibility, but that sense of "poor me" is absent.   The way I understand it, the brain can hold on to new thoughts for fleeting seconds.  Why not choose the powerfully positive rather than the solemnly static/sadistic/somber/slothly?

A friend once lambasted me for placing so much stock in "positivity." (I'm known in some parts as the "What you think about, you bring about" Gal.   He said, "Angela, bless your angel baby heart, there may, in fact, be a bright side to everything, but that doesn't mean the bad stuff gets fixed...and it doesn't go away just 'cuz you're smilin'."  (Okay, he didn't say the "angel baby heart" part, but the sentiment of that "quotation" is true.)

It gave me pause.

Since, I've endeavored  to DO something about the stuff  in my way so that I'm NOT just some smiling dolt watching a tsunami wash in.  Even if I'm swimming in debt right now, I've got my board, I'm ready to paddle and I'll catch the next wave to shore.  Rather than swim, I'll surf, thank you.

Words are powerful.  And so is action.  When both are targeting a positive outcome, good things happen.

The truth is a large percentage of stuff in my home has been charged on credit.  That fact is a part of every choice I make all day - from mochas to what's for dinner.  Still, how I think about this and what I do about it, and how I talk about...all those things make becoming debt-free a realistic goal.  Bless my angel baby heart.

This morning at 9:55 I greeted my 37th year.  Of course, I feel more like 27, with a few extra laugh lines as evidence of life well lived.

As a teacher, this time of year is already imbued with a sense of new beginnings. Compound that with the coincidence of my birthday and the sentiment is all that much deeper professionally and personally.   In journals all the way back to the 80's I've documented annually my hopes and dreams for my "new year"... "be kissed by a boy" to "get accepted to college" to "get a dog" to "get a job" to "find the love of my life" to "run a 10K" to "be the best mother I can be"...

This year, though...this year rather than swearing to drink more water, work out more regularly, be on time, and grade my students' essays in a more timely manner I simply make a promise to myself.

My promise is to be consumer debt free by the time I turn 40.

That's big.  Especially considering the sum I'll be shrinking.  But, I have faith I can do this.  I have to.

I'm imagining September 2012 - when I greet my fortieth new year without the weight of debt - that will be freedom, possibility, peace.   Only three years away!  You'll all be invited to the celebration so mark your calendars!

Happy new year!

Awakening

Kinda like being jolted out of a deep, sweet sleep, I've been "awakened" to the tasks between me and financial prosperity.  While it makes all the sense in the world to do this stuff, I have the added "benefit" of "no choice" to prompt me onward, and/or serve as my drill sergeant.

Here's what I've accomplished this week:


1.  Created the quickie budget of monthly necessities to determine where the dollars come in, and what requires the dollars to go out.

2.  Organized my desk and financial files.  This was quite a feat as I'd allowed all manner of junk mail, bobby pins, old to-do lists, and toys in disrepair to languish on the desk.  An auxiliary stack of at least six months of paid bills and records had been messily piled next to (not in to) the file cabinet as well.  I did find my passport, though.  Bonus.

3.  Completed a cash flow analysis.  This included analyzing the last three months of expenses and finding out exactly the adventures and misadventures of my money.  It also required looking up all consumer debt balances and percentage rates.  Doing this absolutely kicked me in the ass.  Frankly put,  I'm upside down.

4.  Created a September cash flow plan prioritizing all expenses and subtracted that amount from funds available this month.  Dave Ramsey calls this "spending your money on paper" or "naming every dollar."  Another epiphanous step.  The process alerted me to exactly how much of an impact each expense "costs" my pocket book.  I'll be short this month.  While that's frightening news, it's much easier to receive and plan for that conclusion now than it would have been when to get a "surprise" email from the bank about a series of overdrafts.

5.  The September shortage prompted a series of humbling, but potentially bottomline-reducing phone calls.

• Landlord - Q:  May I please pay a lower rent these next six months?  A:  Perhaps.  (This surprised me!  I wasn't aware that this would even be considered!)
• Chase Master Card - Q:  May I please take advantage of lower interest rates?  A:  No.  None are available FOR YOU at this time.
• Capital One Visa - Q:  May I please take advantage of lower interest rates?  A:  No.  
• Western Oregon Waste:  May I please decrease service each month?  A:  Yes.  (Saved $15.00 every three months!)
• Verizon FIOS - Q:  Are there any less expensive rate plans I may qualify for? A:  Nope. (I'm at the least expensive for non-Verizon, teacher, wireless only customers.  Good to know.)
• California Casualty Insurance:  After comparing rate quotes for car and renters' insurance, I found this company (who has a working relationship with the Oregon Education Association) offered me premiums that reduced my monthly insurance budget by $20.00 a month for identical coverage.
• Netflix:  downgraded from three DVD's at a time to one.   Saved $8.00!  (As a non-tv/cable family, we usually access their "View Instantly" service for our screen fix.)
• Medical insurance benefits:  Through our school district I re-evaluated my medical coverage during the open enrollment period.  I found I can save $83.00 a month and that the district will put 67% of what they would have paid for the more expensive premiums in to a Section 125 plan which will allow me to be reimbursed for co-pays, prescriptions, and other non-covered items.  Can't really understand why I didn't understand this LAST year when the opportunity became available, but I'm glad to be on the boat this time around.

6.  Despite the fact that Dave Ramsey thinks debt "con"solidation loans are a bunch of hooey, I contacted my bank for options.  Though, I was denied the loan due to my credit to income ratio,  the conversation I shared with Lisa, the loan adviser, was...uplifting.  Turns out she's a single mom who actually turned her financial state around after a similar turn of circumstances a few years ago.  Lisa repeatedly told me I was making a wise choice to take this one now, rather than later.  She even suggested that I start planning my "debts gone" celebration.  If I could, I'd invite her.  She inspired me a ton.

Even though hearing I did not qualify for a loan was deflating, grasping that a plan to debtlessness requires diligence offered me hope.  An "ah-ha!" moment.  Pay off my consumer debt in five years or less is feasible.

Apparently, I may qualify if I can coordinate a co-signer.  Perhaps that would improve the interest rates as well.  But, cosigning is another action Dave condemns.  Not so sure how I feel about that.  Whether wise or not, I'll make more calls on Monday to learn about other loan "products."

7.  Brainstormed a list of possible income streams including reviving my pet and house sitting business "All Taken Care Of", signing on for extra jobs at school (like tutoring, teaching yoga, Saturday School monitoring, proctoring SATs, working at our summer school), pursuing other employment options, and moving.  Least attractive to me is moving.  I'm willing to do a lot before moving my son AGAIN, even if it is just a mile or so away.  He's a flexible, amiable kid.  But, let me please avoid that step.

8.  Scoured the house for things to sell.  Books = Powells.  Clothes = Buffalo Exchange and New to You.  Higher ticket items (tv, bike, jewelry) = Craigslist and eBay.  And, it looks like my sweet JettaWagon is on the chopping block.  The payments are low in comparison to many folks who are buying cars, but not having that $200.00 walk out the door for the next two years would help a ton.

9.  Cashed in past purchases that needed to be returned and lottery scratch it tickets from Christmas.  The Lotto is ever present in Oregon, it seems.  But try to redeem them?  Where the heck do I go for that?!   Finally pulled into a minimart; they knew exactly what to do with me.  As the clerk scanned my tickets, a little chime rang from the computer and a monitor read, "Congratulations!" It did kinda feel...good.  No wonder folks keep playing...

10.  Engaged in humbling conversations with my boyfriend and parents about what I've amassed and what I need to do.  It's one thing to realize in the privacy of my own now tidy home office how stupid and immature my relationship with money has been.  But it's another all together to speak that truth out loud to folks whose opinions I value.  Kind of like the difference between playing tennis on wii, and actually playing tennis...on a real court...with real racket and ball and sweat.  As I watched the details sink into their brains and the mixture of concern, disbelief, and empathy cloud their eyes I asked myself (and I'm sure they did too...) "How can an intelligent woman have been so dumb?"

11.  Teamed with my son to create a "commissions" list for him to earn money by working around the house.  We chose six chores and assigned them amounts he could earn if he does them each week.  Only six dollars a week will teach him the value of work and responsibility and will help me have a little more time to attend to my desk or catch up with myself.  Money well invested.

12.  Began the "cash envelopes" strategy for food, gas, and fun dollars. My purse now houses those three envelopes and the amount budgeted to each.  After years of paying only only with plastic (both debit and credit), it's mighty strange to hand over the green.  And stranger still to be given back change...and coin!  The little one and I are brainstorming some schemes for our change....

13.  Continuing to research, learn, and apply how to make money work for me.  I'm listening to Dave Ramsey's Peace University CD's in the car.  He's providing tons of food for thought, encouragement, and tools.  But, I'm also seeking other input.  Friends from around the world have emailed or called with tips, suggestions, and encouragement.  I'm amazed by the resources I'd overlooked or feigned ignorance of.  There really is no mystery when it comes to money - only spend what you've got.  And do smart stuff with the money you have.  Duh.

14.  Used coupons...funny how I'd clip and let languish those buggers until they'd expire.  But now, now I'm redeeming them!  Yesterday I just got two free pairs of Victoria Secret undies!  See, that's fine by me!  Who knows when I'll have the actual dollars to buy new drawers again.  Thanks, Vicky!

And old gift cards with partial balances?  They'll start riding around in my "fun" envelope; never know when an itch to make a purchase will tempt.  With ye olde gift card, I'll be able to come home with something new without leaving part of my budget at the store. Sweet.

15  Created a list of anticipated expenses like birthdays and holidays and trips so that I can begin allocating funds and ideas for them.  I've already decided what I'll inexpensively give as Christmas gifts this year.  Ho! Ho! Ho!

16.  Admitted to friends that I can't afford to join in on upcoming weekends away.  This has been a tough one.  For so many years I've splurged on such things because "I deserved it."  But, I hadn't stashed money away, which would later cause me to charge other things because I'd run out of cash.  The memories I've collected at such gatherings are priceless, but the credit I've amassed is pricey.  Since I know this condition is temporary...I'm sucking it up.

17.  Counted my blessings...hourly.  I'm what Mr. Ramsey calls "broke".  I'm searching for ways to make ends meet between now and Sept. 30.  On a larger scale, I have at least five years of scrimping and paying off debt to go.  But, thank goodness this awareness has shaken me up now, at this point in my life.  Thank goodness for the encouragement and support of my boyfriend, family, and friends.  Thank goodness I'm relatively healthy and and have a clean, safe home for my little one and I.  Thank goodness I have a steady job I love.  Universe, thank you.  I know I can do this.

Some wins:
I've trimmed $132 from my monthly expenses
I've collected $83.00 from items returned, sold, and cashed
I've listed $395.00 worth of items for sale on ebay and Craigslist*
I'm more organized and focused than I've been in months

I'm AWAKE!


*let me know if you are looking for a fabulous car, television, youth-sized bike, pyrrha necklace, or sassy pair of designer jeans :D

Order

It's taken a majority of the day, but the hurricane flotsam on my desk has been cleared.  Almost needed to call for the Coast Guard. I've lived here a year and spent maybe ten hours in this room at my desk during that time. In two days I've doubled that.  The view's not too bad from my desk, I've discovered.


The stacks of files and folders have been sorted and put away.  (I'm a stacker.  Oh, Heavens, am I a stacker.) About seventeen hundred pounds of recycling is ready to be shredded.  I can actually see the photos under the clear desktop mat.  Perhaps this is just a calm before the cliched storm, but I'll savor it none-the-less.


Most important and remarkable today, I've stared down that monster of a quickie budget of monthly necessities only to find it's just a dust bunny.  I mean, it's not a pretty dust bunny, but the thing's no Alien or Predator either. I'm giving myself a self-congratulatory pat on the back. One baby step taken.


Of course, I had some help along the way.  Thank goodness for www.daveramsey.com and the forms available there.  Rather than having to create a budget spread sheet from scratch as I'd fretted about doing for the last month, all I had to do was click and print.  Very painless. Easy. 


I'm grateful, too, for the spending analysis Wells Fargo provides of my accounts online.  I was able to easily scan three months of expenditures in various categories to make more realistic estimates of monthly spending. Much more manageable than swimming in the vat of old statements I'd nightmared about. After a little tweaking of where the computer automatically filed purchases, all I had to do was be honest with myself.



My quickie budget dust bunny neatly positioned on my newly organized desk, I have to admit, I feel good.  And a little sick.  After reviewing where the money has gone these last three months, it won't be hard to trim off considerable fat.  Seriously.  A family of two spending nearly $2,000 on groceries and eating out during that time?  That's nauseating.


For the first time in at least a month, I'm heading to bed with peace. I'm not scared of what "might be."  Instead, I've got a realistic picture of what is.  And, what is can be handled. There isn't bold enough type, italics, and highlighting to emphasize how good that feels.

Chaos

The email has been checked and attended to.
I've eaten a well balanced meal.
My glass of water is nearby.
I went to the bathroom.
I updated Facebook.
I'm stalling.

It's budget/cashflow planning day.

 And, this is what I'm facing.

Baby Steps

One of the fondest memories from my son's first year was the evening he first attempted to stand on his own.  For weeks he'd been crawling to the ottoman and pulling himself up by the upholstery or reaching up to me for a little lift. He was on the brink of toddler independence and I hoped and prayed that I, and not the babysitter, would be the first to see him really stand on those two precious feet.



The heavens granted my wish. While folding clothes in the living room, I stepped into the bedroom for a few moments to put stuff away.  That's when I heard that tale tell sound of my baby falling.  Lightening couldn't have been faster than my return to the living room...where I found him not crying, but laughing.   As I scanned for clues, he carefully moved to all fours, squatted like a football player on a line of scrimmage, rocked back and forth a bit on two hands, then one...then slowly, wobbily, he stood, arms outstretched for shaky balance.  I'm sure we both held our breath.  He looked up, grinned the hugest, "Mama!  Look what my legs can do!", and then gravity brought him right back to Earth, accompanied by his burble of laughter.   Again and again and again...and he's been the quickest kid I've ever witnessed ever since.  


Though I didn't realize it at the time, my son taught me how to stand up. Thank you, sweet boy!  And now it's my turn.  Seems all it takes is readiness. And a healthy acceptance of tumbling. 


After more than a few recommendations, today I finally popped the first of several audio CDs by David Ramsey and Financial Peace University into the car's player on my trek to my last (for a while) fancy, Portland Salon, hair appointment.  Listening to Dave's sage counsel and goofy schtick,  much of my anxiety evaporated over the miles.  Yes, I'm in a bad place.  But, by taking action, even baby steps to make a plan for my money, I can change the habits of twenty years and thousands of dollars of debt.


It's reassuring to know that Dave and his many, many "students" have used the steps he proposes to success.  And, though I've mostly absorbed the philosophy - the whys and whens and hows- I'm less overwhelmed by the tasks before me.


What surprised me while listening, though, were my emotions.  Somewhere near the Tigard onramp to Interstate 5, I found myself bawling in traffic.  Dave had just introduced his wife, Sharon, to the assembled CD audience.  He said something along the lines of, "If I am successful, it is because of the woman she is."  And, I cried.  Even had to take a few deep breaths!  Here's this guy, a businessman, a salesman, father of five, who even after bankruptcy would be considered successful by many a measure, and he attributes this to his wife.  Surely, he's a big part of the recipe.  But he honors her.


Now, I'm always touched by gestures of appreciation, and I've got mad respect for those who meet marriage together through ups and downs.  But tears in traffice?  Angela.  Really?   As my son recently quipped when I wept during the first ten minutes of Pixar's "Up", "But, Mom!  Why are you crying?  You hardly even know her?" 


I cried because I want to be a partner like that.  And, I cried because I know I have a long way to go before I am.  Sure, I possess talents and skills useful and entertaining.  But, I'm far from a financial asset. Where I want to bring ease and security, right now I simply offer challenge.  That's not okay with me.


What could be accomplished when I am able to contribute the skills and experience of financial security to the life my partner and I build?   What pratfalls could we avoid?  What prosperity and ease would be ours?  With all my heart, I want to know the answers.


So, standing up on my own to feet, armed with readiness and the grace to tumble, tomorrow is the day I'll write my first budget ever and create a cash flow plan for September.  Baby steps.  








(With gratitude and surprise, I find myself surrounded by folks near and far.  Thank you Jeff, Shelley, Terry, Kris, Nicole, Jennifer, Liz, Lynn, Angela, Robin, Triawn, Matt, and Ben for resources and support.   Thank you so, so, so much!)   

Fear

This summer I faced a sixteen year old fear and played my guitar in front of an audience.  I played Kenny Roger's "The Gambler."  Plainly stated, it was not good. I struggled with each chord change; the ones I hit sounded muddled; there were long pauses as I fumbled for the fingering; it took about five minutes.  But, when I finished, they gave me a standing ovation.


A standing ovation!


Granted, this was an audience comprised of high school students from across the state assembled for the pure purpose of personal development at the annual Oregon Association of Student Councils summer camp, and they are definitely the most encouraging group on the planet.  BUT, I played and they listened and they applauded.


I had faced a fear.  A fear that had absorbed energy and grown each time I glimpsed my guitar in the corner, each time I proclaimed I'd take lessons but didn't, each time I mused, "Wouldn't it be lovely to learn to play while I'm pregnant?  While my son is small?  In lessons with my son?" and never followed through, each time I lasciviously listened as a friend entertained adoring fans around the campfire...


The moment I finished "The Gambler", the very moment, I was richer, I was stronger, I was lighter.  All the weight I'd lugged around fretting about learning to play and fearing sounding terribly - it was gone. I may not be a good guitar player yet, but I'm better and more experienced than I used to be as a result of facing that fear.


It's my belief that a similar phenomenon of relief and lightness will occur when I take steps to release this fear, the fear of taking measure and falling short.  Being less than my friends, my significant other, my family, my neighbors, my colleagues.  Having less.  


Whether it's the wisdom of my years, or somehow I just started paying attention, it's struck me painfully that having less is of lesser threat than having nothing...which could very well happen for me, and resultantly for my son, should I continue to make purchases and financial decisions based on the foundation that I must not be less than.  


Apply this to a habit I've practiced since my son's dad and I divorced.  I felt an imperative to measure up to his dad...his dad's home, furnishings, outings.  Even though this little boy was only two and wouldn't have noticed if our home was owned or rented, filled with new or thrift store goods, I felt determined to give him the best.  Not the best that I could do with what I had, but the best in comparison to what his dad could offer.  


Pointless.  Irresponsible. Fear.


Isn't it more important that he feel loved and comfortable in our home? Isn't it more important that he and I have time to spend together?  Isn't it more useful to him to come from a family modeling responsible financial decisions?  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.


Or consider the money I've spent dining out proclaiming, "I deserve this!"  when actually, I just didn't want to confess to my friends, "I can't afford it."  I didn't want to be the only one who had less.


The truth is, every time I come home, I feel good...and guilty.   I've assembled, albeit on credit, a cozy nest that sometimes inspires visitors to remark things like, "Your home feels so welcoming!  I really like your style."  It's nothing fancy, but it's comfortable.  And, I absolutely love fine dining...the ambiance, the food, the company, the occasions.  I feel best when I'm dressed in something stylish and well-made, when my make up compliments what I've got, when my hair looks healthy.  I like taking care of myself that way.  


Most of what I purchase is on sale.  I don't have a television or expensive electronics (much to the little one's dismay), or even glittery jewelry.  But the price tag of what I do have increases each time a billing cycle assesses a percentage rate.


Of course I know none of that is essential to being myself, taking care of my son, or actually being and looking healthy.  But, a majority of my financial choices are made on the basis of measuring up to others, rather than just being myself.


At that same high school leadership camp last year, one of our junior councelors said something like this, "I spent most of high school acting in a way that I thought others would like so that they wouldn't judge me.  But, people judged me anyway.  It's human nature.  Then I realized their judgements weren't real...they were judging the person I was trying to be in order to be liked.  They weren't judging the real me.  That's when I figured out, I'd rather just be me.  That way, if I have to be judged, it's for who I really am, instead of who I'm acting like."  


He'd figured that out at 18.  Here I am at 36 and the meaning's just trickling in.  My financial state has been influenced by a fear of being judged incorrectly.  


Admittedly, one true judgement folks could make of me right now is that I've been financially irresponsible.  Funny how the truth is much less flattering than the facade I'd attempted to buy.


What would happen if I became financially responsible instead?  What would I think of myself?  What would I communicate to others?  And, perhaps most importantly, what would this model for my son?

Facing It

It's mighty hard to avoid facing the floor when one's nose is smooshed uncomfortably against it.  


And, that's where I find myself. Nose smashed upon the bottom of my bank account.  Again.


I'm familiar enough with this position - the tenseness it brings my shoulders, the crabbiness that infuses my interactions, the cockamamie schemes I daydream to bring quick fortune, the way my temperature rises when I'm at the market.


But, this time the credit's gone.  The options few.  And my pockets really, truly empty.  I'm scared.  And, embarrassed.  And, I realize no one but me can pick me up.


I'm a teacher and a single mom.  I live in a rented townhouse; I drive a 2002 Jetta Wagon that I still make monthlies on.  By no means is my life extravagant.  We have what we need to live comfortably.  But, little of it is mine free and clear.  Very little.


In our district, teachers are paid one lump sum at the end of June which includes salary for June, July, and August.  Should one neglect to budget, this could create a rather lush July...and destitute September. The story goes that I have neglected to make a budget, preferring to do the math in my head and guestimate what has been spent.  What has been spent is nearly everything.


Let it go on record, that math in my head has never been a strong suit.


What has also absolutely never been my strong suit, even from my first savings account and JC Penny charge card in 1987, is personal finance.  But, since having one's nose pressed this forcefully to the floor makes breathing (and sleeping, and thinking) too overwhelming to ignore, I'm hereby committing to picking myself up and gaining the skills that allow me to drive toward prosperity, that little tiny pin prick of a light a the top of this deep, deep hole I've dug.  


I know I'm in good company - a large portion of our nation is lying right along side me down here.  I read recently that the degree of simplicity in overcoming a challenge is directly proportionate to the degree the challenge is confronted.  With that in mind, rather than just floundering down here, I'm flipping over.


Let the confrontation and simplicity begin.  A change is everything.