Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
It Only Took Once (#963)
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?
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Having None Of It (#962)
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.
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