Blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City

Happiness Is Locking In A Low Rate With The Man Of Your Dreams

It’s true. I am a sucker for a guy who talks refi with me.

Actually, I usually bring up the subject. It’s part of our division of labor, I guess. Doug’s activities are weighted a bit more heavily on the income side, and mine tend to concentrate around how to divvy up the income and, always, how to continue finding and implementing the most effective cost-cutting measures. Between the two of us, we get the job done, and isn’t that what marriage is all about?

We built this house nearly 15 years ago, and at the time we took out a 30-year loan. These days, with Doug being nearly 57 years old and with me being the age that I am (Ha!), I would not be comfortable taking out a 30-year loan, or even a 15-year loan.

In fact, I remember my father, gone lo these 25 years, talking about a friend of the family who, at age 65, took out a 30-year mortgage.

“He’s retiring next year!” Dad said. “You’re supposed to have burned your mortgage years before you retire.”

My dad wasn’t just blowing smoke. He and Mom purchased their third and final home when I was six years old. By the time I, their oldest child, graduated from high school, they had paid off the house. They’d taken out a 20-year loan, and in 11 years, that puppy was history.

I’ll admit I’ve never gotten in the habit of making extra payments to my principal. But we have refinanced several times since our first mortgage on this house, which was at 8.25%. And each time, we’ve decreased the term of the loan as well as the rate.

When we closed on this refi last week, we signed paperwork for a 10-year loan at 4.625%. We had 11 years left on our previous 15-year loan, which was at 5.875%. That doesn’t sound like it would change our financial picture too much, but it really does.

If we were to take 10 full years to pay off this house (which we won’t, because the remaining mortgage is so small…), not only would we have one full year at the end without payments, but we would have saved nearly $50,000 besides! Yes, our house payment just went down a cool $400 per month.

I’m a believer in cutting small expenses where it makes sense, but sometimes those big ones can be trimmed without too terribly much effort and the return on your investment of a few hours time can be tremendous.

One day in the not-too-distant future, I plan to host an Old-Fashioned Mortgage Burning Party with the man of my dreams.

Call me my father’s daughter, but I can’t imagine anything better.

Posted by Katy on 06/25/09
(14) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Hail, Hail, The Dang’s All Here!

Dang! And, technically, ding, too!

Hail dings, that is. And lots of them. It all went down (in a rather sideways kind of way…) eight days ago and life has been a bit of a whirlwind ever since.

But our homeowners insurance company has cut us the first (but not the last) check, and the outfit who will be replacing the roof and siding on our entire house is working up their bid as we speak. I’ve seen more measuring tapes whipped out and more blueprints mulled over this past week than at any time since we built this house fifteen years ago. Whew!

Our two neighbors to the south (the only ones we’ve spoken to so far) also will be making claims, so I’m glad to find out it wasn’t just us. I’d talked to everyone in my family to see if their properties were OK, and they all replied with some variation of “What hail?”

Sometimes in life, you kind of feel like a target for crazy stuff to happen to you, and well, the stigma is more than I need right now. :) So yeah, I’m grateful we’re not completely alone!

We didn’t plan on hosting a boatload of contractors this summer and fall, but hey, we will deal. I’m going to take some before and after pics of the old homestead, too, so you can see the transformation as it takes place.

In the meantime, here are a few storm pics for your viewing pleasure. The insurance company appreciated that we’d taken these, since only our particular area in KC actually reported hail like this on that day.

Posted by Katy on 06/17/09
(10) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Saturday Night Fever

Doug and I went to a really fun party Saturday night, at the home of our church friends, Ken and Cheryl.

The weather was just perfect, so the large crowd of Sunday School buddies roamed in and out of the house, onto the deck, out to the strawberry patch for some random nibbling, and then back inside. We ate turducken, which was delish, along with a yummy assortment of potluck offerings to die for.

But it wasn’t the food that killed me.

My dumb chronic headache, which started off at only a low roar but built toward the end of the evening, finally prompted me to begin signaling Doug that it was time to go home.

You know the kind of non-verbal sign language I’m talking about, right? I mean, I didn’t want to walk up to him while he was deep in conversation with another fellow and blurt out, “Doug, I’m sick. Let’s blow this pop stand.” THAT’S not how you make friends and influence people!

The first time I walked past him (on my way to the trash can with a pile of paper plates), I coughed in a rather exaggerated manner as if I just might require the Heimlich, caught his gaze, and raised the eyebrow directly over the eye that always has the stabbing pain. OK, not overly subtle, I know. But Doug can’t interpret subtleties very well and I figured the other guy probably couldn’t, either.

I figured right. Neither of them jumped up to deliver me of a phantom lodged turducken bone and Doug kept right on talking about…whatever.

I got involved in chatting with a lovely gal from Ireland and thoroughly enjoyed myself for who-knows-how-long before I realized that the ringing in my deaf ear had ramped up to fever pitch, as it always does in loud environments. If you’ve never experienced an escalating stabbing pain in your right eye at the same time as you’re experiencing a ramped-up tinnitus that won’t die down for at least 24 hours after the party’s over, you haven’t lived. Trust me on this.

So I slithered my way through the jam-packed house and back out onto the deck. I saw Doug out near the grill with a couple of guys and when I waved, I know he saw me, too. I raised my index finger to my eye and used it to simulate a knife, air-jabbing myself repeatedly for maximum effect. He couldn’t possibly miss THAT message, could he? Any second now, he’d abandon his conversation and come to my rescue.

In the meantime, I found a group of girls I hadn’t had a chance to talk to yet, sitting at a round table with one empty chair, and passed a wonderful half-hour laughing my fool head off over their antics.

As darkness fell, I headed back to the kitchen and saw Doug standing near the island, picking at desserts and oblivious to my withered condition. I grabbed my purse from a corner of the floor and aimed his way. Nothing would stop me this time! I hesitated momentarily to gather up my salad container and darned if another friend didn’t start yakking.

I smiled and nodded and tried to be friendly, but it was too late. I was done for.

I partially turned away from my friend to give my Final Marital Signal of the night. If Doug didn’t get the message this time, I didn’t know what I’d do. Without missing the end of Fred’s joke, I started rubbing Doug’s back. Very nicely, very persuasively, very…affectionately. If I couldn’t get him to take me home any other way, maybe I could make him think I might make leaving, ahem, worth his while.

Without even quite intending to, I actually patted his behind.

And then, as if on cue, the crowded room fell silent, though somewhere in the recesses of my pitiful consciousness, I recall hearing the smallest of gasps. With my hand still THERE, he slowly turned around and said one word, with a solemnity I will never forget.

“Katy.”

“AAaaacccckkkk!” I screamed, at the sight of…Steve. “I thought you were my HUSBAND!”

We fled within seconds, to reverberating peals of hilarious laughter. Heck, I only opened the door to one kitchen closet before finding the door to the garage. Most Embarrassing Moment EVER? Oh, yeah.

And, I’ve gotta say, a tremendously effective use of body language, too.

Posted by Katy on 05/26/09
(7) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Fool Me Twice? I Don’t Think So!

Seven weeks or so ago, the catalytic converter went out on our 2002 Saturn wagon. You might remember the story of how the mechanic insulted me and all “little women” everywhere when I asked if I could take a diagnostic message for my soon-to-be-home husband and he said, “Well, if you DO, will I just have to say it all over again when he calls me back?”

Insults are not a deal breaker for me, though. I am WAY too mature not to be ultimately swayed by competent work at a fair price. So I attempted to buck up and take it like a….girl.

But when he told us that catalytic converters for our car could only be purchased through the dealer and we found him to be lying, well. For me, when that happens, all bets are off. Anyway, we ordered the HUGELY-less-expensive-than-he-quoted part online, had it delivered to his shop, where he marked it up as much as he dared and installed it. As far as I was concerned, we’d never be dealing with him again.

Last Saturday, the same car died right after we’d gotten off I-70 and onto a road with significantly slower moving traffic. I mean, we were driving along just fine, with the car making no strange noises and behaving exactly as it should, and then—-nothing. The car just stopped running and we were fortunate to slide into a parking lot before every last ounce of forward momentum came to an end.

We’ve got AAA, so we called a tow truck after realizing that the car would simply not restart. But, silly us, we had no idea where to have it towed, except for to the place I swore I’d never go again.

Plus, we were fully 30 minutes from our home AND my back was COMPLETELY out to the point that I could barely get in and out of any car much less the tow truck that I was going to have to climb into AND we’d just driven 2 hours surrounded by 18-wheelers which is not my idea of fun AND the Xanax was running awfully low. Suffice it to say, I was in a weakened condition, and poor Doug had limited choices.

Monday morning, Doug checked in with the mechanic, who said he’d check the car out and let us know. Took him till Tuesday to call back with the news. It’s the timing belt (or is it the timing chain?), a problem that TONS of Saturns have been recalled for. The happy owners of Saturns ranging in birth years from 1998 to 2001 had their repairs done for FREE, since the part is defective. But not so with the 2002 owners! That’s what we get for driving a new car! Ha.

Said mechanic quoted us a price of $2060. DOLLARS! Doug actually felt desperate enough over that amount of moolah to ask the guy if he might want to purchase the car as-is. “Sure. I’ll give you $600 for it.”

The car only has 100,000 miles on it! I planned to drive it several more years, or longer. It’s one thing to be insulted because I’m a girl, but quite another to insult the value of my perfectly-fine-till-last-Saturday car! Once again, I’d had it.

“Get the name of another mechanic,” I told Doug. “Maybe Fred knows somebody….”

Fred is a good friend from church, and why didn’t we think of him sooner? Fred doesn’t just know somebody. Fred knows everybody!

Turns out there is a mechanic approximately 40 feet down the road from The Mechanic Formerly Known As Ours. The new guy hauled our car to his joint yesterday. He feels certain, if the first guy’s diagnosis turns out to be accurate, that he can do the job for $1200.

I don’t know about you, but to me, the difference between $2060 and $1200 is WAY more than $860. All of a sudden, I feel like we’re hooked up with someone we might be able to trust. And someone who maybe, just maybe, won’t diss me or my personal property.

In certain scenarios, I might pay extra for that kind of treatment. But it looks like, at least this time, I won’t have to.

Posted by Katy on 05/22/09
(32) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Who Knew That When You Plant Seeds, Stuff Grows?

Honestly, people! I think I was pretty darned good at raising kids, but that’s where my “growth potential” came to a grinding halt.

I used to cry openly from intimidation when given a common houseplant as a gift, knowing I would kill the thing in three days flat. But now I simply whimper to myself and make the giver promise not to think less of me if he never sees the thing alive again.

My darling son Kevin gave me a beautiful white orchid plant for Mother’s Day last year and scared the bejeebers out of me. The bloom did finally die, but new leaves continue to emerge on an occasional basis, so I am not parting with it! Who knows but what I’ll be enchanted one of these years with another exotic bloom?

This Mother’s Day, Kev gave me a different variety of orchid (just in case I’d mastered the care of the first one and needed another challenge, I’m thinking….), this time a pink one with multiple small blooms. As always, I begged his forgiveness in advance for what will most likely become another Fallible Houseplant Demise. He’s so sweet. He said, “But in between now and then, you’ll enjoy looking at it, right?”

Yes, I will! And even more so this year, since I am now an official gardener! While a number of my experiments with food growing have proven failures, like the three out of four broccoli plants that bolted, most everything is thriving. In fact, tonight we popped a couple of ribeyes on the grill and had salad made WITH LETTUCE THAT WE GREW!

For even more fun, while we cut lettuce leaves for dinner, we popped a few bright red and SWEET strawberries into our mouths. Yay for us!

Small heads of cauliflower have formed and are growing, green peppers and brussel sprouts are coming along nicely, we’ll have a least a number of purple onions, and the tomatoes and zucchini are taking off. Plus, we’ve got tiny peaches on one of two peach trees, which are surrounded by three apples, two pears, and a cherry.

You know that whole can’t-teach-an-old-chick line of thinking? SO NOT TRUE. I have been making a habit of learning new things, and in 2009 I’ve developed several skills that I’ll enjoy for years to come.

And, yes, I know that hanging clothes on a line in the sunshine is not exactly a skill. But I’ve been doing it since February and I love it. It makes me feel like a kid again, since hanging laundry in our dryer-less household was often assigned to me, and what’s not to like about recapturing one’s youth?

It’s fascinating when you start caring less about what the stock market’s doing and more about the weather forecast.

“Do you think this load will dry before the rain comes in?”

“Should we water this morning or count on storms to do the job later on?”

“How much water do you suppose is in the rain barrels? Enough to do the whole garden?”

“Hey, the temperature is perfect. Let’s walk around the property and see what’s growing….”

It’s refreshing to realize that even when the whole world seems like it’s going to heck in a handbasket, there’s always something to look forward to, something to savor. And what a wonderful surprise to find that in a very down-to-earth sense, we really do reap what we sow.

Posted by Katy on 05/17/09
(11) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Recessionista?

Now that we’re this far into the recession/depression, I’m curious. Are there ways your life has changed that you never could have imagined?

I know, I know. There IS the giving up and/or cutting back precipitously on Starbucks. THAT hurt, huh? I’ve confessed on earlier occasions how often Doug and I frequented that venerable establishment back when stocks were flying high and our future as old folks seemed as if it just might pan out. But now, well. Now things have changed.

One of the first things we did was cut back to once per week in the imbibing department. But you know what? It’s not exactly sacrificial living to only have lattes on Sunday, is it? I mean, sure we’re saving some money, but honestly. We needed to break that habit, and we can see that now.

But Starbucks withdrawal was just the beginning for us. Whether we had to trim our lifestyle and cut back on our monthly expenses or not, it became a game and a challenge that we embraced like we actually had good sense.

Since September, in fact, when the economy really hit the skids and the truth could no longer be hidden behind unopened brokerage statements, we’ve made tons of adjustments to our budget and, for the most part, stuck to our new plan with dedicated resolve. When we really started fine-toothing our line-by-line itemization of expenses, we found a shared veto power we did not know we possessed.

I think a cheaper bundling of cell phone, landline, and Internet was the first project we tackled. We’d already nixed cable, saving us $50 per month, but I am not able to do without a landline. Being completely deaf in one ear, it’s nearly impossible for me to hear on a cell phone and I simply can’t rely on it for adequate communication. We used to each have one, but why? We cut back to one shared cell, with not too many minutes since we truly hardly use it.

We also eliminated one of our two landlines, which we’d gotten because we both work at home and Doug did not want to miss calls. But isn’t that what CallNotes and the cell phone are for? Besides, with only one line, the landline makes a funny sound on our end when someone else is trying to call in, and we can see who it is on Caller ID. We saved maybe $30 per month adjusting this bundle, in addition to the $50 per month for canceling cable.

Then, around the first of the year, I got busy on insurance issues. We raised deductibles on our homeowners policy, knowing it would take a catastrophe at this point for us to make a claim and risk having our rates raised. Why have a $1000 deductible when you have no intention of ever making a small claim? It’s now $2500, a deductible we can self-insure for by having a beefed-up emergency fund. We have two older cars, and neither one carry full coverage anymore since we have the money saved to replace them when our hand is forced. And again, why pay extra for low deductibles when you would never make a small claim?

I’ll tell you what, when all those teen-aged and young adult drivers move out, you can bring your car insurance bill down to almost nothing! (Thank the Lord for small mercies, eh?)

Next up? Life insurance. Being self-employed, we are on our own with all types of insurance. But we realized that Doug’s policies needed to be structured differently. We may need some insurance for quite a few years into the future, especially with the state of our retirement accounts being what they are. In fact, the prospect of retiring completely from work is not on the radar screen right now. But Doug only had one large policy, and believe me, the premium is expensive. We decided to replace it with two smaller policies, staggered so that one will expire five years sooner than the other.

Not only will we pay less for these two policies than the current premium, but we’ll have insurance about five years further out into the future than we have now. AND when the shorter policy’s term runs out, we’ll have that monthly premium amount to add back into the household budget. A win-win!

You will think we are nuts, but I guess we were the Last Two People In America who still had fees associated with our personal and business checking accounts. Ridiculous, I know! With a well-worded plea, Bank of America dropped both the monthly charges. We’ve never used ATM machines, so those fees are a non-issue, and we don’t bounce checks, so no overdraft fees. But we were paying $45 per year for a bank box! Again, dumb on our parts.

In general, we got fed up with Bank of America and the bailouts. We decided to make the switch to a regional bank with excellent ratings and non-participation in government schemes. No fees whatsoever, free bank box, and an annual savings of beaucoup bucks. What the heck took us so long?

Finally, we’re refinancing our house. By using the same mortgage company we’re currently with (and because we have a very favorable loan-to-value ratio) we were able to avoid needing an appraisal and the paperwork has been radically streamlined. We currently have 11 years left on a 15 year mortgage at 5.875%. We opted for a 10-year at 4.625%, with almost no costs rolled into the loan. We don’t owe much money on our house at all, but this move alone will cut a year off the loan and save us more than $25,000 in interest, which I think is going to work out to about $250 per month.

We’ve made other adjustments, too, some big and some small. Everything from stringing a clothesline and using it, to planting a veggie garden and some fruit trees. It remains to be seen whether these changes save us money or cost us big-time! But I know for a fact that with the simple measures outlined above, we’ve cut expenses by well over $1000 per month since September. And these are sustainable cuts, ones that have not caused us pain or anguish—-only a bit of time (and sometimes frustration) to put them in place.

OK, to be completely honest about the pain, I guess the Starbucks thing still smarts a little. But I’m a big girl. I have a feeling I’ll live through it!

How about you? Care to share your experiences as you strive to thrive during this recession? Even though our income hasn’t been affected at all, I am thrilled with the incremental changes we’ve made to reign in our lifestyle. Enough, it’s been said, is as good as a feast.

Posted by Katy on 05/14/09
(11) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Because I’m So Fallible, You Might Win A Free Book!

I cannot believe how long it’s been since I posted here at fallible!

Suffice it to say that a LOT’S been going on, and sometimes a girl just gets overwhelmed.

But just to show you how much I love you and to let you know that there are good things still to come from Old Reliable Fallible, I am giving away not one but three hardback books to three fortunate commenters.

Leave a comment—-maybe telling me that you’ve missed me!—-and you’ll be entered in a random drawing to win either Kathy Ireland’s “Real Solutions for Busy Moms,” or Dave Ramsey’s “Financial Peace Revisited,” or Leanna Ellis’s fun novel “Lookin’ Back, Texas.”

The first name drawn will get first choice, the second name second choice, and the third name will get the final book. Sound like a good time? I’ll give it a day or two, and then my impartial drawer of names, aka Doug, will do the deed.

I promise if you get to commenting, I’ll get back to my regularly scheduled blogging! I really, really will.

Posted by Katy on 05/13/09
(15) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Twenty-Five Years And Ten Thousand Harmonies Later

When you grow up surrounded by brogues, you lose so much when your loved ones die.

Because for those of us who are first-generation Americans, there’s always the sense that the Old Country is at least as much home as the New. The brogues our parents and aunts and uncles never lose remind us daily, while they live, that our roots here are tenuous, that we are not quite like our friends whose families came over during the potato famine and helped to weave the very fabric of this nation.

At one time, here in Kansas City, I had my dad and his siblings—-Aunt Cathy, Aunt Mary, Uncle Bernard, Uncle Eddy, and Uncle Francis—-all thick with Scottish brogues that infused me with an identity I’ve never shaken off. Nor have I ever wanted to.

The first song I ever learned besides, I guess, “Happy Birthday to You,” was a song Bing Crosby recorded called “Dear Old Donegal.” My father taught it to me like this:

Some years ago this very day
I left the Port of Cork
And on my trip I took a ship
And landed in New York.
Without a friend to greet me there,
A stranger on the shore,
But I wore a great big Irish smile
And my fortune came galore.

I could sing this song in its entirety by the time I was four. In fact, my little sister Liz and I performed it on a Kansas City children’s television program, much to my father’s delight. We never did get the brogues right, though.

When Dad and his siblings had a gathering of the clan for a wedding or a funeral (my father insisted wryly that these were essentially the same event), you can bet the booze flowed freely. And when they’d each had a few drinks, their brogues thickened to the point that singing was the only thing left to do.

My dad and his siblings, on these occasions, would pull Scottish and Irish songs out of their repertoires and we kids couldn’t understand a single word they sang. It was fantastic and mysterious, the way the six of them could become one unit as they crooned “My Heart Belongs To Glasgow.” I didn’t drink, but they could make me cry like a baby with the heartfelt way they belted out, “There’s something the matter with Glasgow, ‘cause it’s spinning roond and roond….” I’m such an easy mark.

And then there was this McKenna family favorite:

Just a wee doch an doris
Just a wee drap that’s a
Just a wee doch an doris
Before you gang awa
There’s a wee wifey waitin
In a wee But ‘n Ben
If you can say
“It’s a braw bricht moonlicht nicht”
Then you’re a richt ye ken.

My father sang his way into and through my life, and today I hear him singing yet again. Besides drinking songs and nostalgic songs fondly recalling the Auld Sod, Dad loved American show tunes, and the way he infused even these with a beautiful brogue improved them in a way most kids never experienced. Dad had come from such a disadvantaged background that I found it inspiring the way he took to lyrics like “To Dream the Impossible Dream” and managed to convince the listener, at least for a moment, that any circumstances could be overcome.

He’d get in a Sound of Music mood and stroll through the house exhorting us to “Climb Every Mountain” until we believed we actually could. If he thought one of us might be feeling a bit left out of the action, he’d launch into a stirring version of “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” I always got a huge kick out of him singing “What Kind of Fool Am I?” The next lines are “who never fell in love, It seems that I’m the only one that I have been thinking of….” This cracked me up because he and my mother were married for 33 years, and as far as I could tell, never had eyes for anyone else.

This one made me tear up a bit, because it seems he sang it more toward the end of his life, perhaps as he realized his own personal party was winding down. “The party’s over. It’s time to call it a day. They’ve burst your pretty balloon, and taken the moon away….”

The hymns my father loved to sing in church, when I would stand next to him and sing melody to his harmony, mean the most to me these days. I cannot sing “Crown Him With Many Crowns” without hearing a brogue supplying the harmony, even when I sing alone. I am left here with only memories of his music and of his life. I am glad I stood near him for all those years, though, our voices blending and our faith building as we worshipped our God side by side.

My father died twenty-five years ago today. I miss him so much, and his beautiful singing, and all the brogues that are now forever gone from my life.

Posted by Katy on 04/19/09
(7) Fallible Comments • Permalink

O’Dark-Thirty

Yesterday, my 87-year-old mother-in-law had surgery bright and early. Which meant that Doug and I pulled out of the garage for our long ride into the city just a few seconds past O’Dark-Thirty.

We were both so terribly groggy from getting essentially no sleep that we were startled by the magnificent display, behind our house, of gorgeous Caribbean colors lighting up the horizon. Oranges and aquas and purples—-fantastic!

But something wasn’t right, and it only took me an instant to figure it out.

As Doug drove, I pointed way past him to the other side of the road and said, “Wait. Don’t all those pretty colors usually happen over THERE?”

To think that otherwise mature adults have actually asked us to be their Durable Powers of Attorney.

Posted by Katy on 04/17/09
(43) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Bowing To The King

Evidently, American protocol dictates that no president should bow before a king or queen, although a slight bow might be considered a sign of courtesy and respect, especially when offered to a close friend of our country. In order for a bow to be considered deferential, though—-a position our leader is not supposed to assume—-the top of the president’s head must be lower than the monarch’s chin.

Whether President Obama bowed to the Saudi king in a manner that truly broke with protocol, I have no idea. But the incident got me thinking about how low I’m willing to go when bowing to the King of Kings.

On Good Friday, the day he spilled His blood for my very life, do I consider Him worthy of only the bare-basics bow? Do I calculate precisely within a fraction of an inch how slightly I might acknowledge His Kingship without actually making myself subservient to His rule?

Or do I enter His presence trembling and cast myself face first at His beautifully scarred feet?

I hope when all is said and done, when the measurements of my puny earthly kingdom are taken and recorded once and for all in His book, that He’ll reach down, lift my chin from the throne room’s floor, and allow me the unspeakable privilege of dining with Him at His banquet table.

A King and His daughter, the Redeemer and His redeemed, the Monarch of Heaven and the child for whom He died.

Posted by Katy on 04/10/09
(1) Fallible Comments • Permalink

What Kind Of Fool Am I?

OK, just for the record: I make the singular worst April Fool’s joker in the UNIVERSE. I totally spaced out coming back to fallible and making it clear that I am NOT entertaining an offer in the six figures for the fallible name, though such an offer would be entertaining indeed. Sadly, I’ve been offered nothing at all—-but neither am I in the market to sell.

Next foolish item: I have decided to try my hand at veggie and fruit gardening for the first time ever, except for that one year when Scotty was a toddler and he’d pick the tomatoes and eat them whole before I could catch him. We only attempted tomatoes and green peppers and succeeded at both, but our next-door neighbor was a gardening guru and made us feel inadequate with our pitiful offerings, just over the chain-link fence from his bounty.

But now, 28 years hence, I’m feeling braver. I also am not as deathly frightened of bees and wasps as I used to be, perhaps because I’m deaf in one ear and therefore buzzing is automatically reduced by 50%, tricking my brain into believing the threat has diminished. Also, I forced myself finally to first read and then view “The Secret Life of Bees.” I’d resisted the book for YEARS because I knew darned good and well that it would end up having SOMEthing to do with bees, and I just couldn’t handle that.

Reading the novel first eased me into the whole bee-keeping story, and I asked myself, “How bad could the movie be, really? Those bees don’t want to sting you!” (Yeah, right, that’s what they all say….) The movie was as amazing as the book, and helped me overcome another layer of fear.

So….I’m planning on trying to grow tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, lettuces, carrots, strawberries, green beans, and peas. I’ve already sown some seed in tiny paper cups, pushed my large breakfast table under the big bay window in the kitchen, and added cookie sheets of seedling-hopefuls to the sunny spot.

Who can say whether I’m being foolish to think I can learn some new tricks at my age? All I know for sure is that I’d better take notes about what works and what doesn’t, because by this time next year, I won’t remember!

Finally, on this Foolish Monday, I’m thinking more about our finances than ever. Here’s the deal: We’ve been going through Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University at our church, and it’s been great. I think we’ve done 6 of the 13 weeks now. We have heard some sad stories from others in the class about foreclosures and job losses and uninsured medical bills, and since we go to church in a prosperous part of town, it’s shed a lot of light on how some of our own parishioners are hurting. I guess I was not expecting there to be such serious difficulties as are represented by this group, but it just goes to show that the economic downturn is no respecter of persons.

We decided to take this class (even though we have no debt except for a small mortgage) because we knew we could buckle down and do better for our own future and in order to be a blessing to others. I’ve found myself second and third-guessing every frivolous unplanned purchase, until by now I usually skip all the guessing completely and simply walk away. Continuing to add to our travel fund is MUCH more important to us than geegaws and trinkets and whatnots, so why waste time shuffling through bins of junk?

Maybe I’m more of a fool than I know, but I read a Money Makeover online this morning that really got me going. A forty-year-old childless couple, combined take-home income of $75,000. No debt except for the house, on which they have THREE mortgages—-one of them an adjustable ready to re-set this month. That, evidently, is why they panicked sufficiently to seek a makeover.

They purchased the home five years ago for $325,000, requiring two mortgages just to make the deal happen. Since then, they’ve opened a HELOC and borrowed extensively. They now owe $400,000 on their home, and the article did not say what the current value of the home is. I can only imagine that it’s less than $325,000.

Here’s the kicker: They are budgeting a TOTAL of $100 for savings per month. They have NO retirement accounts at all, and only a few $100 bills have actually accumulated in this savings account. Now, they used to have credit card debt which they managed to clear up, so turning that around and beginning to save of course is a positive. But then the article revealed how much cash they each receive per month to spend “on anything we want that’s not in the budget.”

People! The husband and wife EACH get $560 per month to blow! Doug and I each get $50 per month, and we feel rich at that! Ha.

Tell me if I’m the biggest fool alive or what, but I do not think this couple needed a money makeover. I think they need to split the monthly $100 they are now putting in savings, and call that their splurge money. Then they need to EACH send $560 per month to their savings/retirement accounts. Problem solved.

Am I missing something? Besides a six-figure deal for the sale of fallible.com, that is?

If you’re feeling foolish about something today, go ahead and weigh in here!

Posted by Katy on 04/06/09
(10) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Ten Years And One Little Fallible Word Later

Ten years ago this month, Doug and I happened upon an article in Wired Magazine that would change the course of my life.

The piece was about how few (1760, to be precise) English words remained available to those wishing to register a one-word.com domain name. The very day we read the article, we pored over that list and decided that fallible was perhaps the best one-word domain we’d EVER heard of, even if 24,000 or so other single words had already been registered.

Since then, the word fallible has come to define me. (Of course, my husband and children will assure you that the word applied in spades long before I registered it!) Why, I have been in a public restroom in line with dozens of women at a conference, introducing myself to the lady next to me, when all of a sudden another gal far behind in the queue (waving to author Tammy Alexander!) shouted out for all to hear, “Hey, you’re FALLIBLE!!!”

I couldn’t deny it then, and I can’t now. The opinions, outlook, values, theories, beliefs, and advice presented here are so flawed as to be laughable, and that’s when I’m not even trying to be funny. But you know what? I persist in being fallible because, well, it’s been nothing if not one of the greatest privileges of my life to be able to entertain you on this site.

And, perhaps, even to inspire you. I hope that’s the case, because there’s a dearth of genuine inspiration in the world these days. If the good Lord sees fit that I should be allowed to dispense even a bit of it, I’ll be more than satisfied.

Which, O fallible readers, is precisely why I’ve decided to turn down the offer I’ve received to buy out fallible.com for a price that’s so obscenely high that it, all by itself, would put me in the Dreaded Top Five Percent Of All Income Earners, and well, you KNOW what that means.

I don’t want to pay the tax on such an enormous income, and besides, who knows what nefarious purposes the prospective buyer of my name might have in mind? I’ve got my good reputation to protect (never mind that I was temporarily banned in the Kingdom of Bahrain for writing about, ostensibly, panties….) and would never allow fallible to fall into the clutches of disingenuous owners.

I may have to add a few paltry ads to comfort myself over the loss of this missed opportunity, though. I hope you’ll understand.

Posted by Katy on 04/01/09
(9) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Crass Envy

I’ve been completely fascinated this past week with all the media references to the supposed rage that exists in the general public against those employees of AIG who received ginormous bonuses after the company took taxpayer bailout dollars.

First of all, I don’t think American citizens are as stupid as American politicians think we are. In general, I think we get it that many corporations defer the compensation of their key employees, in part in an effort to retain them for an extended period of time. Heck, anyone who’s ever seen Chevy Chase in National Lampoon Christmas has to feel for the guy when his entire year’s budget is dependent on a promised bonus that turns into a pitiful pittance.

Even in spite of the fact that tour buses have now taken crowds of envious folks to view the homes of the AIG employees in question, and to insist that those rich people ought to be paying the overdue rent of the touring masses who could have paid their rent if they hadn’t bought the bus ticket, I still believe most of us would side with Chevy.

One of the reasons we would side with Chevy is that it’s becoming really difficult at this point not to be suspicious when we’re told by our leaders that the citizenry is “enraged,” especially when we’re told that our fellow Americans are only enraged by one specific minor-in-the-grand-scheme-of-a-meltdown item of interest. It’s hard not to be reminded of Bill Clinton bombing, what? a baby-formula factory, or was it an aspirin factory? back when he seemed to be attempting to divert attention from his shenanigans with Monica Lewinsky.

If you’d like to read a resignation letter from an AIG employee whose bonus was retracted, take a look at this.

After I read it, I had a much better understanding of how certain members of our citizenry are taking the fall for those who have truly been party to grossly negligent fiscal policy. And I’ve pretty much decided that from now on, whenever I’m told I should be enraged, I’m going to take a closer look at why and not accept anything at face value.

Of course, I run the risk of finding myself enraged at the true culprits rather than the ones who are being made scapegoats. But that’s a risk I am perfectly willing to take.

Afterword: My commenter Suzan pointed out that the tour bus was hired by ACORN. It figures. Read all about it here.

Posted by Katy on 03/25/09
(11) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Better Not To Mess With The Little Woman

Doug and I have been inundated with car problems and when we’re inundated, we get testy.

OK, I get testy. Let’s face the facts here. Doug is a brilliant graphic designer, musician, and lyricist. He also makes a tremendous latte. I am a competent patient advocate, a bread baker and sprout grower, and a wannabe published novelist. I am also very good at doing lunch with my girlfriends.

You might as well know, though, that it takes more than the two of us to change a lightbulb.

Still, we’re adults, and when we’re dealing with car problems, we hope to be treated like adults. And by that I mean that we expect not to have our intelligence insulted, even if our intelligence isn’t exactly in the automotive field. You know what I’m sayin’?

So two weeks ago, the good car (which is now 7 years old and has 100,000 miles on it) started misbehaving. It seemed to me like a transmission problem, since I had to baby the car on its way from 0 to 45, and if I didn’t that needle on the RPM thingie would shoot to the right and scare the bejeebers out of me.

I warned Doug not to get on the highway until we had it checked out, but he forgot and nearly got killed when he couldn’t build up speed fast enough to merge into the flow of traffic. That day we bit the bullet and took it to the transmission shop our erstwhile mechanic recommended.

To their credit, the transmission shop said it checked out fine from their perspective and they drove it back over to the general mechanic. The next day, that guy called with the diagnosis. Doug was away at a meeting and when I saw his name on caller ID, I picked up.

“Yeah. Can I speak to Doug?”

“He’s not here at the moment. I see this is about our car. May I take a message?”

“Well, if you DO, am I just going to have to explain the whole thing over again to HIM?”

OK, see. Right then, I was so tempted to say, “Only if you do a really terrible job of explaining it the first time.” But I didn’t. I bit my tongue, and then I lied and pretended to be the stupid little wife he took me for. (Doug and I are both mechanically disinclined. We are NOT stupid.)

“Oh, you’re right,” I said. “I wouldn’t be able to take this message and convey it to my husband correctly.” Never mind that I take copious notes during Other People’s Doctor Visits, in a stalwart and successful attempt to apprehend for them the healthcare for which they’re so dearly paying. “I will have him call you the minute he gets home.”

I was hoppin’ mad by the time Doug returned the mechanic’s call thirty minutes later. When Doug hung up the phone, he turned to me and said, “It’s the catalytic converter. Unfortunately, the part is only made by GM. The labor is cheap, but because we have to use the authorized GM part, the whole thing’s gonna cost us over $1300.”

“Except for, you know what?” I said. “It’s not.”

Poor Doug. He knows when my Irish is up, there’s gonna be heck to pay. But the way I look at it, heck is still a lot cheaper than $1300. And the fact that the mechanic had soundly insulted me, when he doesn’t even know me well enough to know that I DESERVE to be insulted on this subject, made Doug instantly decide that THIS was exactly why God invented the Internet.

Within 5 minutes, Doug realized that it was a complete falsehood that we needed a GM part for the repair. He found an online company that sells nothing but catalytic converters, called our unhappy-to-be-found-out mechanic to make sure he would install the part (which has a 5-year warranty), and then ordered the part.

My sweet man saved us from being TAKEN for $1000! The mechanic finished the work yesterday and the car runs great. I do not plan on ever using this guy again, for obvious reasons. He lies, cheats, is sexist, and thinks we’re google incompetents.

But I will say this about him: He pushed me just far enough to guarantee that he lost a customer and we saved a mint of money.

Not so great for him, but my ever-growing Passbook Savings account couldn’t be happier.

One of my best money saving strategies is to, as Ronald Reagan used to say, “trust but verify.” To save even more money, you might also try skipping over the trust step completely.

Whatever you do, enjoy the $1000!

Posted by Katy on 03/24/09
(7) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Spring Has Sprung!

My husband, an incurable romantic, couldn’t stop himself this morning from telling me how gorgeous I am. I know, I know. Get him a new prescription for eyeglasses, right? In the meantime, I decided to enjoy the moment and compliment him right back.

“Oh, yeah?” I said. “Well, you’ve got a physique like a Greek god.”

In true fallible style, he hesitated for only a second. “You mean….broken off in parts?”

Posted by Katy on 03/20/09
(6) Fallible Comments • Permalink

Page 2 of 81 pages < 1 2 3 4 > Last »


		Katy's Tweets: follow me on Twitter

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 Follow Katy on Twitter Recent Posts Some Things, You Know Ticking The Boxes Happy Ninth Blogiversary to ME! NaNoCryMo Predictability? Don’t Count On It It’s That Time Again! Losing It Acutely Not That Funny Coming To Terms With Writing Terms Another Great Conference! Catching Up Again, Or Still? Crazy! If Doug Had Seen This Movie Of Me As A Baby, He Might Not Have Ended Up With Chatty Katy I Can’t Believe We’re Finally Here Why I’m Always Glad To Have Written Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Happiness Is Locking In A Low Rate With The Man Of Your Dreams It’s true. I am a sucker for a guy who talks refi with me. Actually, I usually bring up the subject. It’s part of our division of labor, I guess. Doug’s activities are weighted a bit more heavily on the income side, and mine tend to concentrate around how to divvy up the income and, always, how to continue finding and implementing the most effective cost-cutting measures. Between the two of us, we get the job done, and isn’t that what marriage is all about? We built this house nearly 15 years ago, and at the time we took out a 30-year loan. These days, with Doug being nearly 57 years old and with me being the age that I am (Ha!), I would not be comfortable taking out a 30-year loan, or even a 15-year loan. In fact, I remember my father, gone lo these 25 years, talking about a friend of the family who, at age 65, took out a 30-year mortgage. “He’s retiring next year!” Dad said. “You’re supposed to have burned your mortgage years before you retire.” My dad wasn’t just blowing smoke. He and Mom purchased their third and final home when I was six years old. By the time I, their oldest child, graduated from high school, they had paid off the house. They’d taken out a 20-year loan, and in 11 years, that puppy was history. I’ll admit I’ve never gotten in the habit of making extra payments to my principal. But we have refinanced several times since our first mortgage on this house, which was at 8.25%. And each time, we’ve decreased the term of the loan as well as the rate. When we closed on this refi last week, we signed paperwork for a 10-year loan at 4.625%. We had 11 years left on our previous 15-year loan, which was at 5.875%. That doesn’t sound like it would change our financial picture too much, but it really does. If we were to take 10 full years to pay off this house (which we won’t, because the remaining mortgage is so small…), not only would we have one full year at the end without payments, but we would have saved nearly $50,000 besides! Yes, our house payment just went down a cool $400 per month. I’m a believer in cutting small expenses where it makes sense, but sometimes those big ones can be trimmed without too terribly much effort and the return on your investment of a few hours time can be tremendous. One day in the not-too-distant future, I plan to host an Old-Fashioned Mortgage Burning Party with the man of my dreams. Call me my father’s daughter, but I can’t imagine anything better. Posted by Katy on 06/25/09 (14) Fallible Comments • Permalink Hail, Hail, The Dang’s All Here! Dang! And, technically, ding, too! Hail dings, that is. And lots of them. It all went down (in a rather sideways kind of way…) eight days ago and life has been a bit of a whirlwind ever since. But our homeowners insurance company has cut us the first (but not the last) check, and the outfit who will be replacing the roof and siding on our entire house is working up their bid as we speak. I’ve seen more measuring tapes whipped out and more blueprints mulled over this past week than at any time since we built this house fifteen years ago. Whew! Our two neighbors to the south (the only ones we’ve spoken to so far) also will be making claims, so I’m glad to find out it wasn’t just us. I’d talked to everyone in my family to see if their properties were OK, and they all replied with some variation of “What hail?” Sometimes in life, you kind of feel like a target for crazy stuff to happen to you, and well, the stigma is more than I need right now. :) So yeah, I’m grateful we’re not completely alone! We didn’t plan on hosting a boatload of contractors this summer and fall, but hey, we will deal. I’m going to take some before and after pics of the old homestead, too, so you can see the transformation as it takes place. In the meantime, here are a few storm pics for your viewing pleasure. The insurance company appreciated that we’d taken these, since only our particular area in KC actually reported hail like this on that day. Posted by Katy on 06/17/09 (10) Fallible Comments • Permalink Saturday Night Fever Doug and I went to a really fun party Saturday night, at the home of our church friends, Ken and Cheryl. The weather was just perfect, so the large crowd of Sunday School buddies roamed in and out of the house, onto the deck, out to the strawberry patch for some random nibbling, and then back inside. We ate turducken, which was delish, along with a yummy assortment of potluck offerings to die for. But it wasn’t the food that killed me. My dumb chronic headache, which started off at only a low roar but built toward the end of the evening, finally prompted me to begin signaling Doug that it was time to go home. You know the kind of non-verbal sign language I’m talking about, right? I mean, I didn’t want to walk up to him while he was deep in conversation with another fellow and blurt out, “Doug, I’m sick. Let’s blow this pop stand.” THAT’S not how you make friends and influence people! The first time I walked past him (on my way to the trash can with a pile of paper plates), I coughed in a rather exaggerated manner as if I just might require the Heimlich, caught his gaze, and raised the eyebrow directly over the eye that always has the stabbing pain. OK, not overly subtle, I know. But Doug can’t interpret subtleties very well and I figured the other guy probably couldn’t, either. I figured right. Neither of them jumped up to deliver me of a phantom lodged turducken bone and Doug kept right on talking about…whatever. I got involved in chatting with a lovely gal from Ireland and thoroughly enjoyed myself for who-knows-how-long before I realized that the ringing in my deaf ear had ramped up to fever pitch, as it always does in loud environments. If you’ve never experienced an escalating stabbing pain in your right eye at the same time as you’re experiencing a ramped-up tinnitus that won’t die down for at least 24 hours after the party’s over, you haven’t lived. Trust me on this. So I slithered my way through the jam-packed house and back out onto the deck. I saw Doug out near the grill with a couple of guys and when I waved, I know he saw me, too. I raised my index finger to my eye and used it to simulate a knife, air-jabbing myself repeatedly for maximum effect. He couldn’t possibly miss THAT message, could he? Any second now, he’d abandon his conversation and come to my rescue. In the meantime, I found a group of girls I hadn’t had a chance to talk to yet, sitting at a round table with one empty chair, and passed a wonderful half-hour laughing my fool head off over their antics. As darkness fell, I headed back to the kitchen and saw Doug standing near the island, picking at desserts and oblivious to my withered condition. I grabbed my purse from a corner of the floor and aimed his way. Nothing would stop me this time! I hesitated momentarily to gather up my salad container and darned if another friend didn’t start yakking. I smiled and nodded and tried to be friendly, but it was too late. I was done for. I partially turned away from my friend to give my Final Marital Signal of the night. If Doug didn’t get the message this time, I didn’t know what I’d do. Without missing the end of Fred’s joke, I started rubbing Doug’s back. Very nicely, very persuasively, very…affectionately. If I couldn’t get him to take me home any other way, maybe I could make him think I might make leaving, ahem, worth his while. Without even quite intending to, I actually patted his behind. And then, as if on cue, the crowded room fell silent, though somewhere in the recesses of my pitiful consciousness, I recall hearing the smallest of gasps. With my hand still THERE, he slowly turned around and said one word, with a solemnity I will never forget. “Katy.” “AAaaacccckkkk!” I screamed, at the sight of…Steve. “I thought you were my HUSBAND!” We fled within seconds, to reverberating peals of hilarious laughter. Heck, I only opened the door to one kitchen closet before finding the door to the garage. Most Embarrassing Moment EVER? Oh, yeah. And, I’ve gotta say, a tremendously effective use of body language, too. Posted by Katy on 05/26/09 (7) Fallible Comments • Permalink Fool Me Twice? I Don’t Think So! Seven weeks or so ago, the catalytic converter went out on our 2002 Saturn wagon. You might remember the story of how the mechanic insulted me and all “little women” everywhere when I asked if I could take a diagnostic message for my soon-to-be-home husband and he said, “Well, if you DO, will I just have to say it all over again when he calls me back?” Insults are not a deal breaker for me, though. I am WAY too mature not to be ultimately swayed by competent work at a fair price. So I attempted to buck up and take it like a….girl. But when he told us that catalytic converters for our car could only be purchased through the dealer and we found him to be lying, well. For me, when that happens, all bets are off. Anyway, we ordered the HUGELY-less-expensive-than-he-quoted part online, had it delivered to his shop, where he marked it up as much as he dared and installed it. As far as I was concerned, we’d never be dealing with him again. Last Saturday, the same car died right after we’d gotten off I-70 and onto a road with significantly slower moving traffic. I mean, we were driving along just fine, with the car making no strange noises and behaving exactly as it should, and then—-nothing. The car just stopped running and we were fortunate to slide into a parking lot before every last ounce of forward momentum came to an end. We’ve got AAA, so we called a tow truck after realizing that the car would simply not restart. But, silly us, we had no idea where to have it towed, except for to the place I swore I’d never go again. Plus, we were fully 30 minutes from our home AND my back was COMPLETELY out to the point that I could barely get in and out of any car much less the tow truck that I was going to have to climb into AND we’d just driven 2 hours surrounded by 18-wheelers which is not my idea of fun AND the Xanax was running awfully low. Suffice it to say, I was in a weakened condition, and poor Doug had limited choices. Monday morning, Doug checked in with the mechanic, who said he’d check the car out and let us know. Took him till Tuesday to call back with the news. It’s the timing belt (or is it the timing chain?), a problem that TONS of Saturns have been recalled for. The happy owners of Saturns ranging in birth years from 1998 to 2001 had their repairs done for FREE, since the part is defective. But not so with the 2002 owners! That’s what we get for driving a new car! Ha. Said mechanic quoted us a price of $2060. DOLLARS! Doug actually felt desperate enough over that amount of moolah to ask the guy if he might want to purchase the car as-is. “Sure. I’ll give you $600 for it.” The car only has 100,000 miles on it! I planned to drive it several more years, or longer. It’s one thing to be insulted because I’m a girl, but quite another to insult the value of my perfectly-fine-till-last-Saturday car! Once again, I’d had it. “Get the name of another mechanic,” I told Doug. “Maybe Fred knows somebody….” Fred is a good friend from church, and why didn’t we think of him sooner? Fred doesn’t just know somebody. Fred knows everybody! Turns out there is a mechanic approximately 40 feet down the road from The Mechanic Formerly Known As Ours. The new guy hauled our car to his joint yesterday. He feels certain, if the first guy’s diagnosis turns out to be accurate, that he can do the job for $1200. I don’t know about you, but to me, the difference between $2060 and $1200 is WAY more than $860. All of a sudden, I feel like we’re hooked up with someone we might be able to trust. And someone who maybe, just maybe, won’t diss me or my personal property. In certain scenarios, I might pay extra for that kind of treatment. But it looks like, at least this time, I won’t have to. Posted by Katy on 05/22/09 (32) Fallible Comments • Permalink Who Knew That When You Plant Seeds, Stuff Grows? Honestly, people! I think I was pretty darned good at raising kids, but that’s where my “growth potential” came to a grinding halt. I used to cry openly from intimidation when given a common houseplant as a gift, knowing I would kill the thing in three days flat. But now I simply whimper to myself and make the giver promise not to think less of me if he never sees the thing alive again. My darling son Kevin gave me a beautiful white orchid plant for Mother’s Day last year and scared the bejeebers out of me. The bloom did finally die, but new leaves continue to emerge on an occasional basis, so I am not parting with it! Who knows but what I’ll be enchanted one of these years with another exotic bloom? This Mother’s Day, Kev gave me a different variety of orchid (just in case I’d mastered the care of the first one and needed another challenge, I’m thinking….), this time a pink one with multiple small blooms. As always, I begged his forgiveness in advance for what will most likely become another Fallible Houseplant Demise. He’s so sweet. He said, “But in between now and then, you’ll enjoy looking at it, right?” Yes, I will! And even more so this year, since I am now an official gardener! While a number of my experiments with food growing have proven failures, like the three out of four broccoli plants that bolted, most everything is thriving. In fact, tonight we popped a couple of ribeyes on the grill and had salad made WITH LETTUCE THAT WE GREW! For even more fun, while we cut lettuce leaves for dinner, we popped a few bright red and SWEET strawberries into our mouths. Yay for us! Small heads of cauliflower have formed and are growing, green peppers and brussel sprouts are coming along nicely, we’ll have a least a number of purple onions, and the tomatoes and zucchini are taking off. Plus, we’ve got tiny peaches on one of two peach trees, which are surrounded by three apples, two pears, and a cherry. You know that whole can’t-teach-an-old-chick line of thinking? SO NOT TRUE. I have been making a habit of learning new things, and in 2009 I’ve developed several skills that I’ll enjoy for years to come. And, yes, I know that hanging clothes on a line in the sunshine is not exactly a skill. But I’ve been doing it since February and I love it. It makes me feel like a kid again, since hanging laundry in our dryer-less household was often assigned to me, and what’s not to like about recapturing one’s youth? It’s fascinating when you start caring less about what the stock market’s doing and more about the weather forecast. “Do you think this load will dry before the rain comes in?” “Should we water this morning or count on storms to do the job later on?” “How much water do you suppose is in the rain barrels? Enough to do the whole garden?” “Hey, the temperature is perfect. Let’s walk around the property and see what’s growing….” It’s refreshing to realize that even when the whole world seems like it’s going to heck in a handbasket, there’s always something to look forward to, something to savor. And what a wonderful surprise to find that in a very down-to-earth sense, we really do reap what we sow. Posted by Katy on 05/17/09 (11) Fallible Comments • Permalink Recessionista? Now that we’re this far into the recession/depression, I’m curious. Are there ways your life has changed that you never could have imagined? I know, I know. There IS the giving up and/or cutting back precipitously on Starbucks. THAT hurt, huh? I’ve confessed on earlier occasions how often Doug and I frequented that venerable establishment back when stocks were flying high and our future as old folks seemed as if it just might pan out. But now, well. Now things have changed. One of the first things we did was cut back to once per week in the imbibing department. But you know what? It’s not exactly sacrificial living to only have lattes on Sunday, is it? I mean, sure we’re saving some money, but honestly. We needed to break that habit, and we can see that now. But Starbucks withdrawal was just the beginning for us. Whether we had to trim our lifestyle and cut back on our monthly expenses or not, it became a game and a challenge that we embraced like we actually had good sense. Since September, in fact, when the economy really hit the skids and the truth could no longer be hidden behind unopened brokerage statements, we’ve made tons of adjustments to our budget and, for the most part, stuck to our new plan with dedicated resolve. When we really started fine-toothing our line-by-line itemization of expenses, we found a shared veto power we did not know we possessed. I think a cheaper bundling of cell phone, landline, and Internet was the first project we tackled. We’d already nixed cable, saving us $50 per month, but I am not able to do without a landline. Being completely deaf in one ear, it’s nearly impossible for me to hear on a cell phone and I simply can’t rely on it for adequate communication. We used to each have one, but why? We cut back to one shared cell, with not too many minutes since we truly hardly use it. We also eliminated one of our two landlines, which we’d gotten because we both work at home and Doug did not want to miss calls. But isn’t that what CallNotes and the cell phone are for? Besides, with only one line, the landline makes a funny sound on our end when someone else is trying to call in, and we can see who it is on Caller ID. We saved maybe $30 per month adjusting this bundle, in addition to the $50 per month for canceling cable. Then, around the first of the year, I got busy on insurance issues. We raised deductibles on our homeowners policy, knowing it would take a catastrophe at this point for us to make a claim and risk having our rates raised. Why have a $1000 deductible when you have no intention of ever making a small claim? It’s now $2500, a deductible we can self-insure for by having a beefed-up emergency fund. We have two older cars, and neither one carry full coverage anymore since we have the money saved to replace them when our hand is forced. And again, why pay extra for low deductibles when you would never make a small claim? I’ll tell you what, when all those teen-aged and young adult drivers move out, you can bring your car insurance bill down to almost nothing! (Thank the Lord for small mercies, eh?) Next up? Life insurance. Being self-employed, we are on our own with all types of insurance. But we realized that Doug’s policies needed to be structured differently. We may need some insurance for quite a few years into the future, especially with the state of our retirement accounts being what they are. In fact, the prospect of retiring completely from work is not on the radar screen right now. But Doug only had one large policy, and believe me, the premium is expensive. We decided to replace it with two smaller policies, staggered so that one will expire five years sooner than the other. Not only will we pay less for these two policies than the current premium, but we’ll have insurance about five years further out into the future than we have now. AND when the shorter policy’s term runs out, we’ll have that monthly premium amount to add back into the household budget. A win-win! You will think we are nuts, but I guess we were the Last Two People In America who still had fees associated with our personal and business checking accounts. Ridiculous, I know! With a well-worded plea, Bank of America dropped both the monthly charges. We’ve never used ATM machines, so those fees are a non-issue, and we don’t bounce checks, so no overdraft fees. But we were paying $45 per year for a bank box! Again, dumb on our parts. In general, we got fed up with Bank of America and the bailouts. We decided to make the switch to a regional bank with excellent ratings and non-participation in government schemes. No fees whatsoever, free bank box, and an annual savings of beaucoup bucks. What the heck took us so long? Finally, we’re refinancing our house. By using the same mortgage company we’re currently with (and because we have a very favorable loan-to-value ratio) we were able to avoid needing an appraisal and the paperwork has been radically streamlined. We currently have 11 years left on a 15 year mortgage at 5.875%. We opted for a 10-year at 4.625%, with almost no costs rolled into the loan. We don’t owe much money on our house at all, but this move alone will cut a year off the loan and save us more than $25,000 in interest, which I think is going to work out to about $250 per month. We’ve made other adjustments, too, some big and some small. Everything from stringing a clothesline and using it, to planting a veggie garden and some fruit trees. It remains to be seen whether these changes save us money or cost us big-time! But I know for a fact that with the simple measures outlined above, we’ve cut expenses by well over $1000 per month since September. And these are sustainable cuts, ones that have not caused us pain or anguish—-only a bit of time (and sometimes frustration) to put them in place. OK, to be completely honest about the pain, I guess the Starbucks thing still smarts a little. But I’m a big girl. I have a feeling I’ll live through it! How about you? Care to share your experiences as you strive to thrive during this recession? Even though our income hasn’t been affected at all, I am thrilled with the incremental changes we’ve made to reign in our lifestyle. Enough, it’s been said, is as good as a feast. Posted by Katy on 05/14/09 (11) Fallible Comments • Permalink Because I’m So Fallible, You Might Win A Free Book! I cannot believe how long it’s been since I posted here at fallible! Suffice it to say that a LOT’S been going on, and sometimes a girl just gets overwhelmed. But just to show you how much I love you and to let you know that there are good things still to come from Old Reliable Fallible, I am giving away not one but three hardback books to three fortunate commenters. Leave a comment—-maybe telling me that you’ve missed me!—-and you’ll be entered in a random drawing to win either Kathy Ireland’s “Real Solutions for Busy Moms,” or Dave Ramsey’s “Financial Peace Revisited,” or Leanna Ellis’s fun novel “Lookin’ Back, Texas.” The first name drawn will get first choice, the second name second choice, and the third name will get the final book. Sound like a good time? I’ll give it a day or two, and then my impartial drawer of names, aka Doug, will do the deed. I promise if you get to commenting, I’ll get back to my regularly scheduled blogging! I really, really will. Posted by Katy on 05/13/09 (15) Fallible Comments • Permalink Twenty-Five Years And Ten Thousand Harmonies Later When you grow up surrounded by brogues, you lose so much when your loved ones die. Because for those of us who are first-generation Americans, there’s always the sense that the Old Country is at least as much home as the New. The brogues our parents and aunts and uncles never lose remind us daily, while they live, that our roots here are tenuous, that we are not quite like our friends whose families came over during the potato famine and helped to weave the very fabric of this nation. At one time, here in Kansas City, I had my dad and his siblings—-Aunt Cathy, Aunt Mary, Uncle Bernard, Uncle Eddy, and Uncle Francis—-all thick with Scottish brogues that infused me with an identity I’ve never shaken off. Nor have I ever wanted to. The first song I ever learned besides, I guess, “Happy Birthday to You,” was a song Bing Crosby recorded called “Dear Old Donegal.” My father taught it to me like this: Some years ago this very day I left the Port of Cork And on my trip I took a ship And landed in New York. Without a friend to greet me there, A stranger on the shore, But I wore a great big Irish smile And my fortune came galore. I could sing this song in its entirety by the time I was four. In fact, my little sister Liz and I performed it on a Kansas City children’s television program, much to my father’s delight. We never did get the brogues right, though. When Dad and his siblings had a gathering of the clan for a wedding or a funeral (my father insisted wryly that these were essentially the same event), you can bet the booze flowed freely. And when they’d each had a few drinks, their brogues thickened to the point that singing was the only thing left to do. My dad and his siblings, on these occasions, would pull Scottish and Irish songs out of their repertoires and we kids couldn’t understand a single word they sang. It was fantastic and mysterious, the way the six of them could become one unit as they crooned “My Heart Belongs To Glasgow.” I didn’t drink, but they could make me cry like a baby with the heartfelt way they belted out, “There’s something the matter with Glasgow, ‘cause it’s spinning roond and roond….” I’m such an easy mark. And then there was this McKenna family favorite: Just a wee doch an doris Just a wee drap that’s a Just a wee doch an doris Before you gang awa There’s a wee wifey waitin In a wee But ‘n Ben If you can say “It’s a braw bricht moonlicht nicht” Then you’re a richt ye ken. My father sang his way into and through my life, and today I hear him singing yet again. Besides drinking songs and nostalgic songs fondly recalling the Auld Sod, Dad loved American show tunes, and the way he infused even these with a beautiful brogue improved them in a way most kids never experienced. Dad had come from such a disadvantaged background that I found it inspiring the way he took to lyrics like “To Dream the Impossible Dream” and managed to convince the listener, at least for a moment, that any circumstances could be overcome. He’d get in a Sound of Music mood and stroll through the house exhorting us to “Climb Every Mountain” until we believed we actually could. If he thought one of us might be feeling a bit left out of the action, he’d launch into a stirring version of “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” I always got a huge kick out of him singing “What Kind of Fool Am I?” The next lines are “who never fell in love, It seems that I’m the only one that I have been thinking of….” This cracked me up because he and my mother were married for 33 years, and as far as I could tell, never had eyes for anyone else. This one made me tear up a bit, because it seems he sang it more toward the end of his life, perhaps as he realized his own personal party was winding down. “The party’s over. It’s time to call it a day. They’ve burst your pretty balloon, and taken the moon away….” The hymns my father loved to sing in church, when I would stand next to him and sing melody to his harmony, mean the most to me these days. I cannot sing “Crown Him With Many Crowns” without hearing a brogue supplying the harmony, even when I sing alone. I am left here with only memories of his music and of his life. I am glad I stood near him for all those years, though, our voices blending and our faith building as we worshipped our God side by side. My father died twenty-five years ago today. I miss him so much, and his beautiful singing, and all the brogues that are now forever gone from my life. Posted by Katy on 04/19/09 (7) Fallible Comments • Permalink O’Dark-Thirty Yesterday, my 87-year-old mother-in-law had surgery bright and early. Which meant that Doug and I pulled out of the garage for our long ride into the city just a few seconds past O’Dark-Thirty. We were both so terribly groggy from getting essentially no sleep that we were startled by the magnificent display, behind our house, of gorgeous Caribbean colors lighting up the horizon. Oranges and aquas and purples—-fantastic! But something wasn’t right, and it only took me an instant to figure it out. As Doug drove, I pointed way past him to the other side of the road and said, “Wait. Don’t all those pretty colors usually happen over THERE?” To think that otherwise mature adults have actually asked us to be their Durable Powers of Attorney. Posted by Katy on 04/17/09 (43) Fallible Comments • Permalink Bowing To The King Evidently, American protocol dictates that no president should bow before a king or queen, although a slight bow might be considered a sign of courtesy and respect, especially when offered to a close friend of our country. In order for a bow to be considered deferential, though—-a position our leader is not supposed to assume—-the top of the president’s head must be lower than the monarch’s chin. Whether President Obama bowed to the Saudi king in a manner that truly broke with protocol, I have no idea. But the incident got me thinking about how low I’m willing to go when bowing to the King of Kings. On Good Friday, the day he spilled His blood for my very life, do I consider Him worthy of only the bare-basics bow? Do I calculate precisely within a fraction of an inch how slightly I might acknowledge His Kingship without actually making myself subservient to His rule? Or do I enter His presence trembling and cast myself face first at His beautifully scarred feet? I hope when all is said and done, when the measurements of my puny earthly kingdom are taken and recorded once and for all in His book, that He’ll reach down, lift my chin from the throne room’s floor, and allow me the unspeakable privilege of dining with Him at His banquet table. A King and His daughter, the Redeemer and His redeemed, the Monarch of Heaven and the child for whom He died. Posted by Katy on 04/10/09 (1) Fallible Comments • Permalink What Kind Of Fool Am I? OK, just for the record: I make the singular worst April Fool’s joker in the UNIVERSE. I totally spaced out coming back to fallible and making it clear that I am NOT entertaining an offer in the six figures for the fallible name, though such an offer would be entertaining indeed. Sadly, I’ve been offered nothing at all—-but neither am I in the market to sell. Next foolish item: I have decided to try my hand at veggie and fruit gardening for the first time ever, except for that one year when Scotty was a toddler and he’d pick the tomatoes and eat them whole before I could catch him. We only attempted tomatoes and green peppers and succeeded at both, but our next-door neighbor was a gardening guru and made us feel inadequate with our pitiful offerings, just over the chain-link fence from his bounty. But now, 28 years hence, I’m feeling braver. I also am not as deathly frightened of bees and wasps as I used to be, perhaps because I’m deaf in one ear and therefore buzzing is automatically reduced by 50%, tricking my brain into believing the threat has diminished. Also, I forced myself finally to first read and then view “The Secret Life of Bees.” I’d resisted the book for YEARS because I knew darned good and well that it would end up having SOMEthing to do with bees, and I just couldn’t handle that. Reading the novel first eased me into the whole bee-keeping story, and I asked myself, “How bad could the movie be, really? Those bees don’t want to sting you!” (Yeah, right, that’s what they all say….) The movie was as amazing as the book, and helped me overcome another layer of fear. So….I’m planning on trying to grow tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, lettuces, carrots, strawberries, green beans, and peas. I’ve already sown some seed in tiny paper cups, pushed my large breakfast table under the big bay window in the kitchen, and added cookie sheets of seedling-hopefuls to the sunny spot. Who can say whether I’m being foolish to think I can learn some new tricks at my age? All I know for sure is that I’d better take notes about what works and what doesn’t, because by this time next year, I won’t remember! Finally, on this Foolish Monday, I’m thinking more about our finances than ever. Here’s the deal: We’ve been going through Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University at our church, and it’s been great. I think we’ve done 6 of the 13 weeks now. We have heard some sad stories from others in the class about foreclosures and job losses and uninsured medical bills, and since we go to church in a prosperous part of town, it’s shed a lot of light on how some of our own parishioners are hurting. I guess I was not expecting there to be such serious difficulties as are represented by this group, but it just goes to show that the economic downturn is no respecter of persons. We decided to take this class (even though we have no debt except for a small mortgage) because we knew we could buckle down and do better for our own future and in order to be a blessing to others. I’ve found myself second and third-guessing every frivolous unplanned purchase, until by now I usually skip all the guessing completely and simply walk away. Continuing to add to our travel fund is MUCH more important to us than geegaws and trinkets and whatnots, so why waste time shuffling through bins of junk? Maybe I’m more of a fool than I know, but I read a Money Makeover online this morning that really got me going. A forty-year-old childless couple, combined take-home income of $75,000. No debt except for the house, on which they have THREE mortgages—-one of them an adjustable ready to re-set this month. That, evidently, is why they panicked sufficiently to seek a makeover. They purchased the home five years ago for $325,000, requiring two mortgages just to make the deal happen. Since then, they’ve opened a HELOC and borrowed extensively. They now owe $400,000 on their home, and the article did not say what the current value of the home is. I can only imagine that it’s less than $325,000. Here’s the kicker: They are budgeting a TOTAL of $100 for savings per month. They have NO retirement accounts at all, and only a few $100 bills have actually accumulated in this savings account. Now, they used to have credit card debt which they managed to clear up, so turning that around and beginning to save of course is a positive. But then the article revealed how much cash they each receive per month to spend “on anything we want that’s not in the budget.” People! The husband and wife EACH get $560 per month to blow! Doug and I each get $50 per month, and we feel rich at that! Ha. Tell me if I’m the biggest fool alive or what, but I do not think this couple needed a money makeover. I think they need to split the monthly $100 they are now putting in savings, and call that their splurge money. Then they need to EACH send $560 per month to their savings/retirement accounts. Problem solved. Am I missing something? Besides a six-figure deal for the sale of fallible.com, that is? If you’re feeling foolish about something today, go ahead and weigh in here! Posted by Katy on 04/06/09 (10) Fallible Comments • Permalink Ten Years And One Little Fallible Word Later Ten years ago this month, Doug and I happened upon an article in Wired Magazine that would change the course of my life. The piece was about how few (1760, to be precise) English words remained available to those wishing to register a one-word.com domain name. The very day we read the article, we pored over that list and decided that fallible was perhaps the best one-word domain we’d EVER heard of, even if 24,000 or so other single words had already been registered. Since then, the word fallible has come to define me. (Of course, my husband and children will assure you that the word applied in spades long before I registered it!) Why, I have been in a public restroom in line with dozens of women at a conference, introducing myself to the lady next to me, when all of a sudden another gal far behind in the queue (waving to author Tammy Alexander!) shouted out for all to hear, “Hey, you’re FALLIBLE!!!” I couldn’t deny it then, and I can’t now. The opinions, outlook, values, theories, beliefs, and advice presented here are so flawed as to be laughable, and that’s when I’m not even trying to be funny. But you know what? I persist in being fallible because, well, it’s been nothing if not one of the greatest privileges of my life to be able to entertain you on this site. And, perhaps, even to inspire you. I hope that’s the case, because there’s a dearth of genuine inspiration in the world these days. If the good Lord sees fit that I should be allowed to dispense even a bit of it, I’ll be more than satisfied. Which, O fallible readers, is precisely why I’ve decided to turn down the offer I’ve received to buy out fallible.com for a price that’s so obscenely high that it, all by itself, would put me in the Dreaded Top Five Percent Of All Income Earners, and well, you KNOW what that means. I don’t want to pay the tax on such an enormous income, and besides, who knows what nefarious purposes the prospective buyer of my name might have in mind? I’ve got my good reputation to protect (never mind that I was temporarily banned in the Kingdom of Bahrain for writing about, ostensibly, panties….) and would never allow fallible to fall into the clutches of disingenuous owners. I may have to add a few paltry ads to comfort myself over the loss of this missed opportunity, though. I hope you’ll understand. Posted by Katy on 04/01/09 (9) Fallible Comments • Permalink Crass Envy I’ve been completely fascinated this past week with all the media references to the supposed rage that exists in the general public against those employees of AIG who received ginormous bonuses after the company took taxpayer bailout dollars. First of all, I don’t think American citizens are as stupid as American politicians think we are. In general, I think we get it that many corporations defer the compensation of their key employees, in part in an effort to retain them for an extended period of time. Heck, anyone who’s ever seen Chevy Chase in National Lampoon Christmas has to feel for the guy when his entire year’s budget is dependent on a promised bonus that turns into a pitiful pittance. Even in spite of the fact that tour buses have now taken crowds of envious folks to view the homes of the AIG employees in question, and to insist that those rich people ought to be paying the overdue rent of the touring masses who could have paid their rent if they hadn’t bought the bus ticket, I still believe most of us would side with Chevy. One of the reasons we would side with Chevy is that it’s becoming really difficult at this point not to be suspicious when we’re told by our leaders that the citizenry is “enraged,” especially when we’re told that our fellow Americans are only enraged by one specific minor-in-the-grand-scheme-of-a-meltdown item of interest. It’s hard not to be reminded of Bill Clinton bombing, what? a baby-formula factory, or was it an aspirin factory? back when he seemed to be attempting to divert attention from his shenanigans with Monica Lewinsky. If you’d like to read a resignation letter from an AIG employee whose bonus was retracted, take a look at this. After I read it, I had a much better understanding of how certain members of our citizenry are taking the fall for those who have truly been party to grossly negligent fiscal policy. And I’ve pretty much decided that from now on, whenever I’m told I should be enraged, I’m going to take a closer look at why and not accept anything at face value. Of course, I run the risk of finding myself enraged at the true culprits rather than the ones who are being made scapegoats. But that’s a risk I am perfectly willing to take. Afterword: My commenter Suzan pointed out that the tour bus was hired by ACORN. It figures. Read all about it here. Posted by Katy on 03/25/09 (11) Fallible Comments • Permalink Better Not To Mess With The Little Woman Doug and I have been inundated with car problems and when we’re inundated, we get testy. OK, I get testy. Let’s face the facts here. Doug is a brilliant graphic designer, musician, and lyricist. He also makes a tremendous latte. I am a competent patient advocate, a bread baker and sprout grower, and a wannabe published novelist. I am also very good at doing lunch with my girlfriends. You might as well know, though, that it takes more than the two of us to change a lightbulb. Still, we’re adults, and when we’re dealing with car problems, we hope to be treated like adults. And by that I mean that we expect not to have our intelligence insulted, even if our intelligence isn’t exactly in the automotive field. You know what I’m sayin’? So two weeks ago, the good car (which is now 7 years old and has 100,000 miles on it) started misbehaving. It seemed to me like a transmission problem, since I had to baby the car on its way from 0 to 45, and if I didn’t that needle on the RPM thingie would shoot to the right and scare the bejeebers out of me. I warned Doug not to get on the highway until we had it checked out, but he forgot and nearly got killed when he couldn’t build up speed fast enough to merge into the flow of traffic. That day we bit the bullet and took it to the transmission shop our erstwhile mechanic recommended. To their credit, the transmission shop said it checked out fine from their perspective and they drove it back over to the general mechanic. The next day, that guy called with the diagnosis. Doug was away at a meeting and when I saw his name on caller ID, I picked up. “Yeah. Can I speak to Doug?” “He’s not here at the moment. I see this is about our car. May I take a message?” “Well, if you DO, am I just going to have to explain the whole thing over again to HIM?” OK, see. Right then, I was so tempted to say, “Only if you do a really terrible job of explaining it the first time.” But I didn’t. I bit my tongue, and then I lied and pretended to be the stupid little wife he took me for. (Doug and I are both mechanically disinclined. We are NOT stupid.) “Oh, you’re right,” I said. “I wouldn’t be able to take this message and convey it to my husband correctly.” Never mind that I take copious notes during Other People’s Doctor Visits, in a stalwart and successful attempt to apprehend for them the healthcare for which they’re so dearly paying. “I will have him call you the minute he gets home.” I was hoppin’ mad by the time Doug returned the mechanic’s call thirty minutes later. When Doug hung up the phone, he turned to me and said, “It’s the catalytic converter. Unfortunately, the part is only made by GM. The labor is cheap, but because we have to use the authorized GM part, the whole thing’s gonna cost us over $1300.” “Except for, you know what?” I said. “It’s not.” Poor Doug. He knows when my Irish is up, there’s gonna be heck to pay. But the way I look at it, heck is still a lot cheaper than $1300. And the fact that the mechanic had soundly insulted me, when he doesn’t even know me well enough to know that I DESERVE to be insulted on this subject, made Doug instantly decide that THIS was exactly why God invented the Internet. Within 5 minutes, Doug realized that it was a complete falsehood that we needed a GM part for the repair. He found an online company that sells nothing but catalytic converters, called our unhappy-to-be-found-out mechanic to make sure he would install the part (which has a 5-year warranty), and then ordered the part. My sweet man saved us from being TAKEN for $1000! The mechanic finished the work yesterday and the car runs great. I do not plan on ever using this guy again, for obvious reasons. He lies, cheats, is sexist, and thinks we’re google incompetents. But I will say this about him: He pushed me just far enough to guarantee that he lost a customer and we saved a mint of money. Not so great for him, but my ever-growing Passbook Savings account couldn’t be happier. One of my best money saving strategies is to, as Ronald Reagan used to say, “trust but verify.” To save even more money, you might also try skipping over the trust step completely. Whatever you do, enjoy the $1000! Posted by Katy on 03/24/09 (7) Fallible Comments • Permalink Spring Has Sprung! My husband, an incurable romantic, couldn’t stop himself this morning from telling me how gorgeous I am. I know, I know. Get him a new prescription for eyeglasses, right? In the meantime, I decided to enjoy the moment and compliment him right back. “Oh, yeah?” I said. “Well, you’ve got a physique like a Greek god.” In true fallible style, he hesitated for only a second. “You mean….broken off in parts?” Posted by Katy on 03/20/09 (6) Fallible Comments • Permalink Page 2 of 81 pages < 1 2 3 4 > Last »


copyright 2008, ngenius media inc.

Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

Recent Posts

Search

Syndicate