Feeling all grown up

There are moments in life, I'm learning, that give you this certainty - sometimes exciting, sometimes uncomfortable - that you really are a grown up. Of course, there's all the other times, too, when that simply isn't the case. But I digress.

Signing mortgage papers was one of those moments for me. "What? Are you crazy? That's an awful lot of money to trust me with!"

Leaving the hospital with my first child was another. "What? Are you crazy? That's a very small person to be trusting me with!"

Leaving the hospital with my second child was almost as bad. "What? Are you sure this is a good idea? Um, alright..."

Seeing the spending limit on a personal credit card was a huge moment. "What? Are you crazy? Did you even look at how much money I make? No wonder our economy's sliding into a big cesspool of ickiness right now!"

But sometimes there's just a momentary glow of honest pride. It happened this week for me when I bought my first internal hard drive. It was the sort of store where you walk in and have to know what you want because they've wasted no frills on colored advertising or sales signs or anything as frivolous as an updated font. Just little technical packages sitting in styrofoam racks with data-font stickers on metal racks.

Now lest I overinflate your opinion of me (Wow - she's so awesome - braving a computer supply store like that...) SG was holding my hand (literally, at one point). But I smiled knowingly at most of the right spots, I made the final 500GB decision and I paid for it myself. It was even debit, not credit. And I glowed with honest pride.

Of course, now I have to return it because my motherboard manual was WRONG but still...

Knee-jerk (elbow-jerk? wrist-jerk?) reactions

America has a lovely thing called the "Do Not Call" list. Since its inception, it has GREATLY reduced the number of phone calls from people trying to sell me things that I neither want nor need (nor have heard of) while I watch my supper getting cold on my plate from a few feet away. Some of the callers were quite gracious, some were bored and some had that hint of desperation in their voices but the answer still had to be no. I didn't envy them their job but the answer still had to be no.

For awhile, it was our policy to invite the charities (but not the polyvinyl fencing guys or the invest in the future of mushrooms guys) to send us an information package so that when we did our year-end planning we would remember to consider their cause. In several years of taking this approach, NOT ONE sent us a tangible piece of information. So the answer became NO. Short, snappy, easy to remember.

Can you tell I'm a fan of the Do Not Call list? But there's still one company/sheister/guy in a dirty T-shirt that calls. I strongly suspect that if I had call display, it would read "Number not available" because I'm sure they know they're violating a law somewhere. It's an automated recording of a woman's voice that says "This is an important message about your current credit c..."

I couldn't tell you what else the message is about because that's the point I hang up.

But here's the thing. I've noticed that the woman's voice in the call is starting to speak faster. Seriously, the recording is getting quicker and is approaching those vocal speed limits usually reserved for the voice-over on medication commercials. Of course, it means I also have to hang up quicker to avoid hearing more of her message. It's like one of those jungle-reflex-survival games or Attack Whack-A-Mole or something. You don't know when that ring will mean another recording or when it might be your father (the only two people that call at those times of day) and you don't want to be wrong.

I think I'm getting pretty good at it though. And this morning when my early morning reflexes surprised me with their quick response to her vocal sprint, I realized something...

I'm wearing her down.













Wooo-hooo! It's about time...


Added: 5-3-09

Gaaack! They must have read my blog because a new message came today. It's Rachel and she's happy to tell me there's no problem with my current account! But it's important that I call about reducing my interest rate!! Please... (CLICK)

Privvy to my thoughts

It's late so maybe that will explain the turn my mind took tonight (or failed to take, whichever you decide). For some reason, I found myself mentally reviewing the staff bathrooms (washrooms, restrooms or WCs depending where you reside) I've seen lately.

I have to say, they are always pretty interesting. Maybe just because they reveal so clearly the humanness of teachers. I suppose like most kids, if I had thought about it at all, I would have said teachers just sprang to life at their desks each morning, and deflated into the same chair at the end of the day. But seeing a collection of hand lotions, makeup bags and toothbrushes (obviously I go to the ladies version) proves beyond a doubt that simply isn't the case.

Some of the funniest posters and some of the worst poetry I've seen have been in a staff washroom. ("Using that spray/Makes the stinky smell go away.") I learned about the "courtesy flush" thanks to a handwritten note in one. And I've been baffled by an older-school's fountain-style washing station where you had to step in just the right spot to get the water to shoot at your soapy hands (and the dodge required to keep it from spraying all over the front of my shirt and/or jacket will be a valuable skill should I ever take up paintballing. )

From there, my thoughts wandered on to a trip that's coming up. One of my offspring is terrified of automatic flushing toilets and I've been trying to think of ways to get around that. Most airports do not trust their patrons to have to stoop to such measures on their own so I know it will be an issue once or twice. I was even in one airport where the little seat cover automatically rolled around the rim as soon as you stepped into the stall. I must confess I stared at that one awhile thinking, "Now there's something that could really go wrong."

Which raises another problem.

Have you every tried to trick an automatic toilet into flushing? Maybe its timing was off. Or maybe it scared the living daylights out of you by flushing too soon. Or maybe that ___! paper cover didn't completely disappear. I'm sure there are several scenarios you can imagine that might mean you want to try again so the next person doesn't think you're a uncouth slob just in from the hills. And there you are - waving fingers, looking for the self-help button and generally aware that the toes of your shoes are pointed in the wrong direction for the ladies room.

I guess you have two choices. One is to laugh.

The other is to just go with the flow.

Price check

I'm a second-hand shopper. I enjoy thrift stores and used goods shops. Part of what I like about them is the prices (although I will admit I've gotten too cheap to shop at Goodwill anymore); partly I think it's a test of a garment's durability to have it go through an owner or two first; partly because there are fewer it-looked-great-until-I-washed-it issues; and partly it means that the odds of someone wearing the same shirt as me to church is pretty slim. (The last two times I shopped retail last year somebody had BOTH items on in a two week span!) Not that I never shop retail but my motto is that someone else can be at the top of that particular food chain.

So, one of my favorite pairs of shoes came from a Salvation Army store in Saskatoon about three years ago. I'd flown in, I didn't account properly for the weather and needed a back up pair. Found just the right ones, too. Brown leather, basic cut, not-too-shiny finish that could go either dressy or casual, strong stitching and a nice 1 1/2" height that I could spend the day in. Perfect.

I've worn these shoes many, many times. Many times.

I've kicked them off at friends' houses, worn them to interviews, paced classrooms in them and generally have them handy as a default pair of shoes. Easy on, easy off when shoe shopping, easy on, easy off when I just need a short break, easy on, easy off when going through airport security, easy on, easy off when getting out the door in the morning.

So I was in a staff room yesterday on the last day of my residency at an elementary school. I had about 5 minutes before my last session, so dropped into a chair with one leg tucked up under the other. In this position, you realize, the sole of my shoe would be directly visible to anyone sitting to my right. Which there was.

When I got up to head out of the staff room, my shoe slipped off and flipped over as I adjusted my footing. And there was the testament to my cheap-skatedness written on the dark soles of my shoes in permanent, shiny, silver Sharpie marker that has apparently been there since the day I bought them...

$2.99

Getting old

It's hard work getting old. Just ask Abraham Lincoln, who celebrated his 200th birthday last Thursday.

I'm teaching at a school right now that was named after the man and they had no idea that it was his birthday. Let alone that it was his 200th. Okay, one class made stove pipe hats out of black construction paper. Anyways, I happened to know and walked in with a Lincoln shirt on and a party hat and a few interesting facts about Abraham Lincoln (Did you know he was a wrestler? And that his formal education was only about a year and a half total?). The students (and a few of the teachers, too) just looked at me like I was crazy. (But that's another story entirely.)

And of course, there's always Mr. Nonfiction in the group. The kid that has a fact-bound imagination and canNOT fathom the riches of the make believe. So finally this child looks at me as I'm talking about Abraham Lincoln and says in an I-can't-believe-I-have-to-explain-this-to-you voice, "But he's dead."

Well, thus ended the reading of the lesson.

I tried to get him to pretend (no luck) or to explain that we could still celebrate the day as a significant one (you know, like Martin Luther King Jr. Day or Christmas) but he wouldn't have any of it. Finally, a big smile spread across his face and he lifted two thumbs up to the ceiling. "Well," he said. "Good luck, buddy!"

Clipart courtesy www.karenswhimsy.com

Spoiled rotten

I had an EVENT last weekend (not the weekend just finished but the one before that). It involved a potential identity crisis and SG making plans that I didn't get to know about. The only think I knew what what I was going to wear. And SG is very good at that kind of thing so I wasn't too worried about our evening.

What I was worried about was the dress. For starters, it was red, which is not a color I wear in large quantities. And it was one of those unforgiving sorts of fabrics that will show every wrinkle and wriggle and if I was going to appear in public in it as a God-fearing woman, I needed to make a few preparations. So it's been a goal for the last few months to get ready for the dress. (Okay - that's totally not me but a little bit of motivation isn't a bad thing, right?)

It was a great evening. I was as ready for the dress as I will probably ever be, and the flowers he brought home (sans kids, who had been farmed out for the night) were gorgeous. I'm not allowed to give out all the details because SG is afraid enraged husbands everywhere will come after him for setting the bar so high but let me just say that it involved: no "control tops", diamonds, flowers, dinner at a wonderful new restaurant, fiddlers, chocolate and Scrabble. I found out too that it involved hiding newspapers for a month and receipts for awhile. But I can forgive the deceptions because the end definitely justified the means.

It was a perfect evening.





( Potential crisis averted...)

Impulse shopping

Hubbie and I have been attending a class that's geared to financial management. Been through many like it before (in fact we are trained volunteer budget counselors) but a refresher is always good. And there's a few things that I still wouldn't say I have a convincing grip on. Like impulse shopping. It happens more than DH would like that I walk into a store and out with some extra items.

So last Wednesday, I had to take our vehicle in to have a flat tire repaired. Asked them to check a couple other things while they were under there. And rather than sit around their waiting area (although it's a very clean and attractive one), I decided to run a couple errands that were within walking distance.

By the time my vehicle was ready, I'd bought 5 vases, a ceramic bowl and a heart-shaped glass bowl for an art exhibit I'm directing this weekend PLUS a set of brake rotors, two remanufactured calipers, two pair of shoes (non-asbestos brake shoes, that is) and a half tank of gas for my neighbor's truck that he graciously loaned me while my vehicle was hanging around on the hoist.

Now I want to be fair and accurate on my finance class homework - do you suppose that counts as an impulse purchase?