Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Rachelle Gardner at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Soul Train
- Live Out Your Dream And Discard The Box
- Tears In A Bottle
- From The Young Mom I Once Was, To You
- I Can’t Help Falling
- What A Difference Ten Years Makes
- The Next Best Thing To Robert Redford
- The Memory Keeper’s Daughter
- Where Have All The Years Gone
- Fun With Kiki Cullen
- Stuck On Mom
- Ten Years Later, Our Girls From Northern Ireland Remembered
- The Thrift of Grief
- Job Security
- The Party’s Over
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
What Will That McKenna Think Of Next?
I belong to a great online writers group: the American Christian Fiction Writers. I have no idea how many members we have, but I’d guess maybe 1000. We have a groovy email loop, discussion forums, etc.
Once each year, we have a conference, too. I got to go last fall, you might remember, and met a bunch of fantastic online friends face-to-face. Can’t wait to see them all again in September!
These are the folks who are helping me become a better writer. I’m edging closer to my goal of finishing this novel by conference time, and you know what? I’m more determined than ever to keep pressing onward toward publication.
Toward that end, I’m kind of dropping my last name. Not, of course, the man who gave me the last name—we’re more in love than at any time in the past thirty years. This isn’t a legal name change, just a doing-business-as name change.
So if you happen to see me referring to myself (or being referred to) around cyberspace as Katy McKenna, that’s why.
And if someday you happen to see a novel in Barnes & Noble with my maiden name on it? Buy it!
Random Chattiness
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate migraines? Man, oh man. I get them in clusters. I’ll be fine for a week, or two, and occasionally even as many as three weeks in a row. Then it’ll start up again, and it usually lasts for a solid month, if not longer.
Basically, I’ve had one long migraine for the past 22 years. I’ve got herniated discs in my neck, and while I had them diagnosed ten years ago, I don’t know when or how the original injury occurred. I was in a bad car wreck when I was 18, in which my car got broadsided and I was thrown across the car and knocked unconscious. I wouldn’t be surprised if my neck has been screwed up since then, with the bad headaches not setting in with their full measure of evil until I turned 30.
Who knows? And complaining doesn’t help, so I’ll stop now!
Wanted you to know that our “new life,” which consists of minimal spending, amazing advancement on debt reduction, shocking decluttering, darling redecorating, astonishing progress on my novel, and fabulous weight loss (for me—Doug doesn’t need to lose an ounce…) is still going strong.
I’m down 14 pounds. Only two more to go of the 16 I’d gained since last August. Then quite a few more beyond that, but first things first!
Getting my life in the kind of order that actually gives me time (and energy) to write is scary, folks. No more excuses. My mother is doing well right now, and I’m committed to not giving her more help than she actually needs. (No more co-dependency, in other words.)
So, the novel is coming along. Truly. I think it will be finished to my satisfaction (I’m not easy to please…) by the time I go to the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference in September. When I really, truly put it out there for agents and editors to accept or reject, I’ll find out what I’m made of.
I think I’ve been avoiding that part for my whole life. You know, as long as you don’t finish the book, you can’t get rejected. So let’s just say I’ve manufactured a few reasons why I “couldn’t” finish the book.
No more! Excuses Backwards R NOT Us!
Now, tell me. What’s been going on with you???
Stuff
If you’ve never tried to place your life in a context completely separate from stuff, I dare you to give it a whirl.
These are feelings I’ve NEVER experienced before, and I’m not kidding. You can take the girl out of Consumeristic American Society, but can you ever really take the consumer out of the girl? I just don’t know anymore.
Honestly. I had no idea how much of my identity was wrapped up in the hunt for, payment for, maintenance of, and (eventually) disposal of possessions. Not to mention entire lifetimes spent in the pursuit of luxurious, caffeine-laden beverages and various other extraneous entertainments. Take all that away, and what do I have?
I feel like a lone character in a bad novel, a book in which the author abyssmally failed to develop any physical setting whatsoever. I feel like I just got plunked down in the middle of….what?
Nothingness.
Have any of you ever attempted to cut yourself loose from the ties that bind? And found out that they were also the ties that tethered?
I’m searching for a context in which to place my life, but I refuse to believe ever again that it can be purchased at Target.
Day 31
Today is Day 31 Without Fourbucks.
Which is actually Eightbucks around here. Because we each got a four dollar drink nearly every day. Doug didn’t go every single day, but when he did, he often added a piece of cake, bringing the total right back up to Eightbucks, on average.
$248 not spent on Starbucks. Isn’t that crazy, that we were letting hot lattes burn a hole in our pockets like that?
I’m embarassed to see it written out like this, but sometimes confessing in blog and white really is the only way to get a grip.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
I’m learning about a form of disrepect for my husband that I’d never acknowledged until now.
You probably won’t be surprised if I tell you I can be mouthy. I pretty much say what’s on my mind, and it doesn’t always come out in the most diplomatic of terms. I end up apologizing to Doug a lot for my verbal indiscretions, for they are legion.
But you know what? I have at my wifely disposal far more insidious forms of disrespect, and I know how to use them, too. The one that’s on my mind today is recklessly spending the money he worked so hard to earn on stuff that doesn’t reflect our decided-upon-together priorities or our values.
In our house, Doug earns most of the income, but the principle is the same regardless. In a relationship where both partners are equal earners, disrespect can still prevail. What about the wife who calls her husband’s paycheck “our money,” but insists that her paycheck is hers alone? A single person could even show himself disrespect by the crummy, unpremeditated choices he makes with the income he’s been blessed with.
I listened to Dave Ramsey for a few minutes while driving this morning. He talked about the Proverbs 31 woman. “The heart of her husband trusts in her. He will have no lack of gain.”
My husband suffers no lack of income, but in the past few years, he’s had a lack of gain. For twenty years now, he’s let me handle the finances without us meeting together frequently to discuss the situation because, well, he doesn’t want to know that much.
I did great for most of those years, but as our income increased, so did my entitlement mentality.
Doug admitted today that he REALLY doesn’t want to get involved in the finances, but knows we’ve got to do this thing together. And I apologized for the disrespect I’ve shown him by taking the money and running with it.
It’s a start, and a good one. Kind of makes me want to put on some Aretha Franklin and dance my heart out.
On The Table
Have you caught any of the Oprah’s Debt Diet episodes? I think these are repeats, but this week she’s running a few of the shows. I saw parts of Monday and Tuesday, and plan to watch again today.
Basically, three financial experts are taking on three out-of-control families. The experts actually moved into the homes of these spendthrifts for a while to understand what made them tick. In once case, Jean Chatsky spent 12 hours with the lady of the house, just opening bills (some several years old, which had been stuffed unopened into boxes….) before they could begin to assess the damage.
One thing I noticed about these couples: They each have items at which they throw scads of money which they’ve labelled “non-negotiable.” One chick spends eleventy billion bucks per week on her hair, and won’t settle for less.
Her hair looks OK, I guess.
It got me thinking, though. When you come to the place in your life when you know you need to change, do you still maintain a list of non-negotiables? Areas that you won’t let God or anyone else touch?
When it comes to our finances, Doug and I are laying all the cards on the table. There are no secrets, no fudges, and well….no fudge.
But I digress.
We’re starting at zero spending. It doesn’t take Quicken to show us where our money’s going. For the past month, it hasn’t gone anywhere. Unlike one of the chicks on Oprah, I don’t have a $20 per day allowance on our new plan, which I spend any way I want. Gradually, we’ll add back in those expenditures which we both deem reasonable and necessary, but starting out at ground zero first has been way more of a revelation to us than if we’d just decided to “cut back” in a couple of luxury areas.
I’m approaching my diet the same way. Cut out all the nonsense (not just part of it…) and go from there. Back to basics. Simple, clean, and remarkably effective.
I never was much of a gambler anyway. Might as well show all my cards and be done with it.
Imagine
Doug and I just finished reading through 1st and 2nd Corinthians together. Like out loud. Yeah, baby—that kind of together!
I admit I don’t always get St. Paul, especially in Corinthians. But when I do get him, I love the dickens out of him. The Scripture that’s got me going right now—because of the changes we’ve been making in our lives, I’m sure—is this passage:
“And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that always having all sufficiency in everything, you may have an abundance for every good deed…....you will be enriched in everything for all liberality…” (2 Cor: 8, 11)
Let me tell you, it’s not always easy to believe this verse. Especially when you’re in debt, addicted to spending beyond your means, sucked into shopping for recreation, and dulled to the genuine needs of others.
Don’t get me wrong: Rich or poor, we’ve always managed to eke out a tithe check for the Almighty. That’s the least we could do to acknowledge that He, the Maker of the Universe, really does own it all. Right?
Right.
As we turn a spiritual corner in our thinking, it’s getting a lot easier to envision a future in which liberal giving is the norm. As we begin this journey of imposing a few needed restrictions upon ourselves and experiencing the joy that comes with freed-up resources of time, energy, money, and more, we are starting to believe in the might of Paul’s words.
You know what? Even now, before we’ve completed the climb out of this hole we’ve dug for ourselves, we’re excited about becoming liberal. Can you imagine how wonderful it must be to throw a cautious brand of generosity to the wind and have its place taken up by a radical life of giving?
We’re not there yet. Not even close. But our imaginations are on fire, exactly how imaginations are meant to be.
The Pantry Challenge
Since the Raymonds have been hitting it on nearly every front in their effort to eliminate debt, raise funds for their son’s last year of college, trample waste, obliterate clutter, and vanquish fat, why not add a good old-fashioned pantry challenge to the cause?
I’d actually told Doug a couple of weeks ago that I’d be tackling this, since vowing to stay out of the stores unless absolutely necessary. But then I started reading on personal finance and frugality blogs about how others had done it, too, and got even more motivated.
So, here’s the challenge we’re taking on: Until Sept 1, we will only purchase in the grocery store those items needed for the sake of freshness, such as milk, eggs, fruit and veggies. Other than those few items, all meals will be made from items already contained in our pantry and freezers.
I’m thinking that just by using what we’ve got, we can pocket a couple hundred dollars. More, of course, if you count the meals we’re not eating out, which by now are legion. We’re not eating out at all, in other words.
This morning, I got a powerful hankering for an omelet from a local dive. With coffee and tip, it would have cost the two of us maybe $14 to get out of the place. Instead, Doug made me one of his beautiful omelets, with bacon bits and mozarella and onion. I figure with eggs costing ten cents each, we spent less than fifty cents per omelet. Including coffee.
We got the satisfaction of the omelets themselves, plus the joy of not spending another $13 to eat them.
Now, I’ll say up front that around mid-August, I plan to have a going-away party for my son, who will be gone the better part of a year in Switzerland. It goes without saying that I won’t be able to pull off a party for 50 people or so using just the ingredients in my pantry, but the rest of these six weeks?
Ah, yes. The Pantry Challenge has begun.
Not To Brag Or Anything….
But I’ve lost 11.5 pounds! Yeah. I’m excited. My derrierre is not so nearly derri-there as it was 4 weeks ago. My jeans are loose, my mind is clear, and I’m pumped.
Iron, however, still isn’t pumped, but that’s because of the herniated discs in my neck. You weren’t expecting miracles, were you?
It Only Took Once
Thirty years ago tonight, I had to ask my little sister, who was celebrating her 19th birthday, if she’d excuse me from her party just that one time.
She said yes, because finally (finally!) the guy I’d been dreaming of for over two years (unbeknownst to him) had asked me out!
This was back in the day, around the time the guy who wrote “I Kissed Dating Good-bye” was conceived. We kissed dating good-bye, too, the group of Jesus Freaks that Doug and I hung with. Oh, sure, a guy and a chick might go out for dinner just for fun, but no one dated for years on end or even months—unless marriage was definitely in the works.
Doug and I? We went on one date, on July 8, 1976. We went to a country buffet-type restaurant, with yummy fried chicken, brisket, and the best cinnamon rolls anywhere. Knowing me and remembering the tiny dress I wore that night, I probably ate all of three bites. Besides, who could eat with those beautiful green eyes staring at me from across the picnic table?
The next week, I left for five weeks in Scotland with my fam. The week after I got back, Doug popped the question.
Now, trust me, I knew all along that he was the man for me. But I didn’t let on to him that I felt that way. I figured if God wanted us together, He’d get us together.
Still, that HAD to have been some date, huh?
Having None Of It
I can’t say that Doug and I have ever really been the types to think we should “have it all.” Honestly, a lot of it doesn’t even appeal to us.
We’re not into cars, so while we’ve owned quite a number of new ones, we’ve never purchased one that cost more than $20,000. Most have cost much less than that. We’ve yet to make an appointment for a couple’s massage at the neighborhood day spa, and my face still hasn’t met Botox, though the two of them might get along great. I don’t even care much for acryllic appendages extending from my fingertips, and I can’t imagine letting a stranger caress my feet during a pedicure.
I suppose, though, that after the first time, the pedicurist wouldn’t be a stranger anymore.
Ken Lay of Enron fame, who died something like $100 million dollars in debt, had noted recently that yes, he’d gone ahead and had the $200,000 birthday party for his wife on a rented yacht. He said that enormous debt notwithstanding, it was awfully difficult to switch spending gears completely and give up all the little luxuries, when you were used to such things.
Doug and I talked about this yesterday, and came to the conclusion that this same difficulty could arise at any income level, since lots of folks at every level live beyond their means and may be confronted with the need to make astonishing personal reformations.
I’ll tell you what: This past month has changed our lives. The first couple of weeks on this spending diet, we found ourselves not only sorely tempted by our usual bugaboos, but also acutely aware of the myriad of ways the “system” is designed to suck the dollars from our pockets. On one trip into town to drop another load of stuff at the thrift store (a ten minute drive), I passed nearly 100 establishments where I could have easily (and without a second thought) spent money.
Even the post office, the only other place on my planned excursion, offerred an array of teddy bears, tote bags, collectible framed stamps, and stationery. Believe it or not, because I’d been avoiding shops for many days, the stuff at the post office looked really good to me! But I digress.
Now, after 30 days on our anti-spending-on-worthless-pursuits-and-junk plan, we are starting to get in the groove. We’ve committed to turning down our occasional “date night” at Sam’s. This would not be the type of trip in which we have a list and stick to it, you understand. This would be a spontaneous, we’ve got nothing to do, let’s take a drive over to Sam’s and visit with the stuff trip. Which would end up costing an average of $300 each time. Now, granted, we only did it a few times a year, but honestly. Isn’t that ridiculous?
And it’s not just Sam’s. What about Walmart? I buy groceries there, but I don’t head to the food aisles till I’ve checked out the other departments: clothing (always the clearance racks, because I am very thrifty), purses, sleepwear, DVDs, magazines, books, and crafts. And electronics. And shoes. Don’t forget shoes.
I’m not saying I always bought extras that I didn’t plan for or need. Okay. I am saying that.
The stores don’t miss me. By this late date, even Starbucks (where everybody knows your name) has forgotten. It’s been so long that even if the baristas did ask themselves if anyone had read our obits in the KC Star and if not, WHERE ARE THEY, some new schlups have bellied up to the counter. Replacing our dollars in the Bucks coffers, no doubt, and maybe even more. For that is the way of things: If two people manage to jump off the wheel-to-no-where, two or three more are thrilled to take their place.
We have taken the leap. We’ve become anti-comsumers. It’s been a huge challenge so far, and oh, so much fun. It’s left us with voids of time and space and emotions that we don’t know how to fill, and that is a bit frightening at first. But we’ve promised ourselves not to rush to fill them. To hurry only guarantees that these spaces in our lives will be filled by something equally as worthless as what we’ve eliminated.
And this time, that just won’t do.
Liposuction?
One great thing about really buckling down to drop some pounds: When I’m being diligent, I pop out of bed in the morning (with no alarm at 5 a.m.) because I can’t WAIT to weigh myself. I know, really sick. But you know what? It still beats sleeping in and gaining weight all to heck.
So I walked out of the bathroom before the crack of dawn, all smiles even though it was too dark for Doug to see me. “Lost another one-half,” I said. “So that makes eight pounds.”
He didn’t roll over or open his eyes. But somehow he always knows just what to say.
“That’s an Oreck XL.”
What a guy.
It’s All About The Mo
It there’s any force of nature that can work either strongly in your favor or horribly against it, it’s momentum.
I ought to know. Last August 6, the day my mother fell and permanently broke her humerus, the mo started moving against me. I knew that day that I was about to lose 6 or 8 months of my life, since she would likely spend that much time in hospitals and nursing homes over this injury.
Once the mo starts to go, what can you do? I’ll tell you what I did: I ran straight over to the Russell Stover’s Outlet Store and participated in their Biggest Blow-out Sale Ever! I got enough sugar-free chocolate to fill my freezer, all for about $20. Not that I needed to obsess about available freezer space, you understand.
Who needs long-term storage when you’ve got a rear end?
The bad, bad mo took me down, folks. Yesterday, I looked back over my (very sketchy) record of my weight ups-and-downs, and saw that I’ve gained SIXTEEN POUNDS since August. People, I’m only 5’2”. I can’t afford to gain sixteen pounds over the course of my entire adult life, much less in ten months. I virtually inhaled sugar-free chocolate for most of those months.
Actually, I gave it up for Lent and that broke its hold over my mind, but sadly, not over my butt. It’s not Lent’s fault, of course. Never confuse Lent with Dr. Atkins. Two entirely different deals.
Anyway, the hardest thing about momentum, since it moves so forcefully and steadily, is change. Momentum, I’ve found, makes change nigh unto impossible.
Nigh unto. But not completely and hopelessly impossible. No, indeed.
The mo began to reverse when a dear buddy of mine told me she and her fam would be in KC for a few days starting July 5, and could they stay with us? Of course! That’s what I said, but then I panicked. Our poor house had seen better days, and all of those days occurred before Mom’s accident. The place was a freakin’ disaster.
So Doug and I set to work. I bragged to my friend that the upstairs would be their bed-and-breakfast—two bedrooms and a full bath, with loft area for reading and coffee drinking. In reality, the upstairs was a burial ground for dead furniture and a gallery of atrocious art. It would take a miracle for my words to become truth, but we dug our heels in and started to make it happen.
When we’d finished one bedroom and the bath, to the point that I swear the rooms could be featured in a Pottery Barn catalog, my friend emailed. They can’t come! Doug and I laughed our heads off and took the first break from working on the house that we’d had in a month. Since then, we’ve painted his office and started on our bedroom, thinning out all the superfluous possessions that have tied us down.
The mo had changed directions, thanks to my bud. And when the mo changes, you can make that change apply to as many areas of your life as you wish. The next arena? The old caboose.
Seven pounds down now, in just under two weeks. I feel great! The nice thing about this change is the clear-headedness that goes with eliminating junk foods. And with clarity comes….you guessed it, more change.
The Starbucks thing? Gone. I’ve lost track of the days. Fifteen? Sixteen? It doesn’t matter. They’re not getting my money anymore, and they will no longer have the privilege of contributing to my other “bottom line,” either.
Piling up money for Kevin’s final year of college? Oh, yeah. It starts with foregoing the Fourbucks, but it doesn’t stop there. Suddenly, we see all the frivilous ways we’ve wasted money, and it’s amazing how much we’re enjoying cutting back. Now, if we do decide (after really thinking about it…) we want to spend $13 at the Twilight Hour to see Mission Impossible, it’s so much more fun. These days, thankfully, they don’t even look at you funny when you bring in your own drinks and snacks. Yes, people, we are that cheap.
The best part of all about the flow of the mo is that I’m actually working on my novel. It’s essentially done, you know. Except for some not-too-major revisions, it’s ready to send out. But when the mo’s not working with you, you just can’t see how to make it happen.
All in all, the past six weeks or so have brought some much-needed change to our lives. Actually, it began when we went to the Old Country. That’s when I realized that my mother didn’t need me nearly as much as I’d imagined, evidenced by the fact that she got along so well without me. And a realization like that can really shake a girl to her core.
If your mo’s going to heck in a handbasket, don’t give up. It’s not the end of the world. In my case, Jesus was right there with me, patiently waiting until I was ready to embrace His gift of a change in direction.
I made up a motto once, one I’ve used off and on through my life. It first came out of my mouth when Doug would race down the road on auto-pilot, always late for wherever he was bound. Half the time, he’d turn to me and ask, “Where is it we’re going again?”
And I’d say, “You’ll never make up for with speed what you lack in direction.”
Pretty good motto, huh? Remember, you heard it here first.
If This Is My Manic Phase, So Be It
I wish I could tell you how much detoxing the old bod of all the junk you’ve been eating (low-carb meal replacement bars, sugar-free chocolate, sugar-free cookies, sugar-free cheesecake—do you see a theme emerging?) leads to all kinds of other good things.
Man, oh, man. My house is starting to look like a million bucks. I am whipping this puppy into shape right along with my sorry rear end. Does anyone else out there still “file”? You know, actually put hard copies of documents into folders and then into a file cabinet or milk crate? It had been 18 months since I’d filed, and this morning I finally caught up.
Interesting thing, that. Since my new way-of-life does not include keeping paper for which I will never have a use again in my natural life, almost ALL the 18-months’ accumulation got pitched in the bin.
I feel on top of the world at this very moment, clean and unencumbered by the physical exhaustion and mental confusion caused by too many useless possessions (junklets, I call them) and too much clutter.
I remember my grandmother, when she was just a few years older than I am now, saying, “Don’t ever again buy me something that has to be dusted.”
Amen, Grandma! Life’s too short. If I don’t love it or desperately need it, it’s outta here.
Extreme Butt Takeover
I can never do something “just a little bit.” Maybe you’ve noticed that about me.
So when I say I am going to get back into a serious weightloss groove, I really mean it. (Anybody got a peanut?)
I’ve dropped 4.5 pounds in 9 days, which for me is great. I’m motivated, organized, and self-sabotage has ceased to be a factor. And, just so you know, I don’t NEED no stinkin’ Starbucks! That’s right: Today is Day Nine Without.
I even have a few new words to live by. I’d give credit where it’s due if I knew where that is. If you happen to know, please comment here.
“The difference between need and want is remarkably similar to the difference between success and failure.”
I don’t need what I thought I needed, folks. And the things I truly want (things of lasting and especially eternal value) won’t be the ones that make a fat, cash-poor addict out of me.
So.
