makeover REVEAL!

Such a barrage of comments on my plans to visit the make up counter! Had I known my grooming habits were such a fascinating topic, I'd have mentioned them sooner.

After dropping Jax off at his groomer, I drove in the direction of the mall. I don't shop at the mall, so I had to find a map to locate the Sephora store. Dodging the mallwalkers (and there were many, which surprised me, it was a beautiful day outside!), I passed through 2/3 of the building and found the Sephora store, nearly empty on a Tuesday morning. I approached the two clerks stocking a display and said, "Hi," in a loud voice.

Me, before I left the house. (With sober face, Blackbird.)

"Can we help you find something?" one asked.

"Well, I hear you can help people like me," I began by way of explanation. She kindly guided me by my elbow to a stool by a mirror and make up counter and began peppering me with questions while scrutinizing my pores. Suddenly I felt red and hairy and greasy and blotchy and all the other adjectives that describe an ugly face.

Next thing I knew, "Kate" was called over to advise me on skin care and clean me up. Reader, Kate was the most delightful girl, serious with bangs and full of encouraging comments. She's the roommate you dream of having in college--the type that will make you hit the books all week long but go to parties on the weekend. I desperately wanted to ask Kate if she needed a new BFF, but she distracted me with skin care products--serums and creams and I was under her spell as she brushed clarifying agents across my face, smoothing me into an object of beauty.

Too soon she finished up and called "Kari" back over. Reader, Kari was a younger Carrie Bradshaw with green nail polish, from the way she talked right down to her petite frame and long ringlets. At one point she actually jumped up and down in her excitement about something. I'd placed my face in the most skillful hands around.

These gals wore tool belts filled with make up brushes. I kid you not. They were equipped to deal with any make up/skin disaster. I had come to the right place. Returning with a basket full of products, Kari picked up where Kate left off, buffing and polishing my skin into a creamy texture. The whole time she worked, Kari explained what, why, how and when--I got a thorough education on application techniques and the importance of good brushes.

Armed with a single case of eyeshadow colors, Kari demonstrated how to vamp up my "daytime look" to a "nighttime look." (She kindly called it "date night," and I did not correct her assumption that my date nights involved a bowling alley twice a month.) She smudged and highlighted and blotted me a bit more.

I felt like I was on What Not to Wear as she swiveled my stool back to her and back to the mirror. The final look was definitely more polished and pulled together than I've ever looked in my life.

Kate returned to admire Kari's work and reiterated the importance of good brushes and proper skin care. We chatted a bit while Kari gathered up the various potions I'd agreed to purchase. After spending a mind-blowing amount of money on products and tools, I made up for 2 decades of not coloring my hair. The entire experience took an hour, though I suspect I got red-carpet treatment because it was Tuesday morning and the store was empty. I drove to my hair appointment checking out my face every few miles. My cheeks shimmered. My complexion looked flawless. My eyes smoked and my lips shone.

The first thing Kristy said when she saw me was, "You're wearing make up! It looks so pretty!"
After I explained my recent mission (now accomplished!), Kristy told me that good make up costs a LOT, but it's worth it. She shared her experiences with drugstore cosmetics and how there was really no comparison. I had NO idea. She also stressed the importance of good brushes. How did I miss all of this information? One truly wonders.

Then Kristy performed her magic with scissors and sent me on my way. Jax and I returned home looking sleek and sexy.

Team Testosterone arrived a couple hours later and immediately noticed my face. The verdict was "You look different. In a good way. Like, younger." (Mr. T, who now gets a raise in his allowance.) "You're wearing make up! You look sort of ... goth. But pretty." (Mr. B, who got grilled on what "goth" means.)

Last night at Cubbies my leaders looked at me differently, too. Embarrassed to admit to wearing make up, I fessed up only to the new hair cut. They gave me a stamp of approval.

But now I'm boring you with details, aren't I? You really just want to see a picture.

Behold:

That, friends, is "date night" me. And I shall leave you with these thoughts:
1. There is much to recommend quality make up. My morning makeover didn't come off my face until 10:00 that night when I washed it off with soap.
2. I feel quite prepared after a practice run today for tomorrow and Friday's book events.
3. I did not buy several things, including an eyebrow pencil. I didn't really see a marked difference in my face when Kari used it. I also skipped lipstick, though I bought a coral-colored gloss that smells nice, and concealer, since the other stuff I bought covers me pretty flawlessly.
4. I totally expected my credit card company to call after I went to Sephora. Seriously.

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green girl sees red

Reading Conservatives Step Up Attacks on Birth Control made Green Girl's blood churn and boil. It's preposterous--the same political party that wants to strip funding from public schools, day cares, preschools, free health care clinics for all thinks birth control is too expensive to fund. Hello? Have you looked at the price of raising a kid these days? Trust Green Girl, pal. Birth control is a hell of a lot cheaper.

And that jab comparing birth control pills to manicures? Green Girl had a whole string of words reacting to that remark. None of them are publishable here, but they made a truck driver overhearing her blush. If a person can view "preventative medicine" for birth control as unnecessary, then pregnancy seems equally so--a preventable condition that health care coverage shouldn't cover. By that standard would you deny women coverage for prenatal care and delivery?

And the whole argument about cheap birth control creating a promiscuous population? Particularly ridiculous. Have you ever met a person who didn't have sex because birth control cost too much? Conversely, have you ever met a person who had more sex because birth control was free or cheap? Sex is a lot of things--yes, it's a behavior, but it's also a biological urge. There's science and emotion involved in sex. But Green Girl prefers to believe most people plan their families and babies these days and are capable of enjoying monogamous intimacy without the stress of worrying about birth control. Promiscuity is the result of a lot of factors--low self-esteem, poor boundaries, emotional trauma, socialization and conditioning. It's not the result of having condoms at hand. Ask any teenaged boy who packed a Trojan in their wallet for all four years of high school if you don't believe Green Girl--they'll tell you: being equipped does not mean you'll see any action.

Then Green Girl considers the argument that people will just stop having babies if they have free/reduced birth control. That's as stupid as comparing birth control to manicures. People have babies. People plan to have babies. People spend millions on fertility treatments to have babies. People wait to have babies. People can't wait to have babies. People who should, have babies. People who maybe should not, have babies. No one is stopping people from having babies if that's what they want--and population studies demonstrate that most people still want to have babies. Maybe better access to birth control will mean people have fewer babies, but Green Girl would argue that's not an entirely bad thing in bad economic times.

Having coverage for birth control does not mean people have to use it. If you're opposed to birth control, Steve King, Sandy Rios, Jeffrey Kuhner, Marjorie Dannenfelser and Helen Alvare, then don't use it. But shame on you for wanting to deny access for the rest of us.
Sex is a gift God gave to us to enjoy--and to procreate with, but a close study of Genesis reveals sex was first a gift to enjoy with our spouse. Continuing to layer sex with shame by denying people the tools they require to enjoy it seems pretty intrusive. Green Girl thinks that people who believe in less government should stay out of other people's bedrooms.

That's enough ranting today, poor reader. Here's an appropriately funny clip on the topic to leave you laughing. Green Girl will be back tomorrow full of positive thoughts and goodwill towards all people:

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below average

and kind of proud of it. I calculated Team Testosterone's back to school expenses--according to the National Retail Federation, the national average is $604 per family--I have 3 kids and we spent about $400. Without bargain shopping (I'm lazy and hate to shop--I went to a shoe store and Target and shopped online at Old Navy and Amazon). Without extreme couponing. I checked off every item on the list sent home from school and spent $200 under the national average. How did Green Girl do it?



* Those Lands End backpacks purchased 2 years ago? Holding up just fine. As are the lunch bags/boxes. $0



* Thanks to my anal-retentive scrubbing and storage of outgrown shoes (complete with crumpled newspapers inside to keep the odor/moisture in check), I bought 2 pairs, a spare for Mr. T and a new pair for Mr. B. Mr. B's gym shoes are Mr. T's hand-me-downs and Mr. G has plenty, too. $100



* Old Navy had a sale this summer and I snagged polo shirts for $7.50 and cargo pants for $12.50. Each boy has 5 polos and 4 pairs of pants--have I mentioned how much I love school uniforms? Makes our life easy and pretty cheap to boot. Mr. B picked up a pair of shorts at the school's Family Fun Night--they had tables of donated uniform clothing. Each boy has 1-2 pairs of appropriate shorts and Mr. T's shirts and pants from last year will fit Mr. B fine--a couple new things tossed in, but man, hand-me-downs sure take the edge off the clothing budget. $130



* I clean, sort and store the boys' supplies at the end of each school year--a huge box holds the unused glue sticks, scissors, partially used spiral notebooks, protractor, calculator and so forth. I tear out the "used" notebook pages, dump the crayons (seriously, when you buy the requisite 2 boxes per kid per year, they really add up. ditto for pencils and markers) and markers into a bag and scrub the pencil boxes. I begin this year's school supply shopping from this box. No one needed scissors or pencil boxes. I tossed a variety of crayons in each case, sharpened last year's colored pencils and tested last year's markers. Amazingly, few of these supplies need replenishing. I purchased: 2 rulers (only had one on hand--the parochial school takes measuring seriously--all 3 boys needed one!), supplemental notebooks and folders, glue sticks, erasers, one package of markers, red ballpoint pens, highlighters and a set of watercolors. The boys don't care about their folders and notebooks, so we get the plain color ones, which are also the cheapest to buy. $20



* The school supplies for classrooms really added up. Dry erase markers, reams of printer paper, napkins, tissues, disinfecting wipes, plastic baggies (in all 3 sizes) and hand wipes. I didn't have a surplus of any of these items on hand, but I had a few coupons. Between Target and Amazon.com (dry erase markers--very difficult to track down all the right kinds and I hate to shop so I only tried Target in person) I acquired the necessities for the modern, germ-infested classroom. $80



* Haircuts. Two buzz cuts and a more complicated cut for Mr. T who wants to grow his hair long. $70 (incl. tip)



Not half bad, I'd say. Most of the savings came from Mr. T not requiring many school supplies as a 6th grader (same calculator, same thumb drive, same Spanish/English dictionary, same protractor, compass & ruler) and Mr. G and Mr. B wearing hand-me-down clothes and shoes. Quality always pays off, so the investment in those Lands End backpacks and lunch sacks was totally worth it.



Spill it, reader. Are you above average, average or below average in your school shopping?

More importantly, how would you spend the remaining $200?

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$3 / gallon ice cream bucket

That's the going rate to hire a kid to pick beans these days. They're making $3/bucket for trimming the ends, too. All three of them, sitting on the porch watching Shark Week and earning their spending money. Best bean season ever.


Best money I've spent all summer, too.

Spill it, reader. What's the best deal you've found this summer?

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back in the olden days when Mr. D and I were DINKS

we lived in a neighborhood FULL of kids. We were legendary on our street because most of those kids attended the local parochial school. For those of you not "in the know," parochial schools are notorious for fundraisers. The PS Mr. T currently attends sends home at least one "fundraising opportunity" every week. Anyway, Mr. D and I cannot refuse a kid peddling frozen cookie dough, pizzas, gift wrap, fruit, Girl Scout Cookies or magazine subscriptions. We bought it all and we bought it with vigor. Consequently, the neighborhood kids figured out how to maximize the profits at 621 Taylor Street.

They'd hit me up when I'd get home from my teaching job around 4:00. "Sure, Angie. We'll take five pizzas." I'd leave the house around suppertime for my evening gig as choreographer of the high school musical and Mr. D would roll in the driveway at 6:00. The neighbor kids would ambush him. "Sure, Angie. Put us down for six pizzas." Delivery day would come and one of us would stand at our front door cutting a check for TWO separate orders. Smart kids. Suffice it to say, our freezer was never empty the entire time we lived in that town.

Even now we don't deny the kid standing on our front porch trying to raise buck for band or football or Scouts. And if they're selling something we don't want to buy, we're usually soft-hearted enough to cut a check directly to their organization.

As for our own children, they don't participate in any fundraising. At the PS, we paid the "fundraising buy-out fee," entitling us to a guilt-free year without hitting up our friends and family to buy anything. Since I'm President of the Happyland Elementary PTA, I've insured that almost all of our organization's fundraising is event or service based. We have only one "sale" fundraiser each year and I usually don't take part in it. My sons never bother anyone to buy anything on behalf of Happyland Elementary. The park & rec teams they play on are paid for through membership fees and a very lucrative concession stand. Mr. T is the only "fundraiser" in our family since he's part of Boy Scouts.

This year he wanted to sell popcorn for Scouts and I was okay with that only because he's really really really into Scouting. The organization gets 70% of the profit and Boy Scout popcorn has a reputation of being a good product that people appreciate buying. He did all the sales himself at his dad's office because his dad's office allows kids to do that kind of thing. And Mr. D has a reputation of being very generous to other people's kids fundraising efforts, so it seemed like fair game. Mr. T sold a ton of popcorn, making enough money to purchase a badly needed tent for his troop. He did such an outstanding job pitching his product and his cause that we even got emails from Mr. D's colleagues complementing his sales skills. But Mr. T did it himself. The only thing I did was drop him off and pick him up since he's too young to drive. He organized the orders, kept track of the money and wrote thank you notes to attach to the product when he delivers it next month.

And Mr. T only sold at his dad's office. We didn't bother our neighbors because they've got their own family members (children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews) to buy things from. We won't call on family because they're all out of state and/or on fixed incomes.

This said, I'm all for event-based fundraisers. In fact, a few years ago I suggested to Mr. D that his baseball team hold a clinic for little league players instead of selling those discount cards and they actually did--and made a tidy profit. I'm all for bake sales, lemonade stands (a particular weakness--I've been known to circle back around a block to get a Dixie cup of lukewarm Kool Aid from some enterprising kid), rummage sales and carnivals. The idea of giving a little to get something back best fits my philosophy on these matters.

And for the record, my favorite fundraising product of all time? Girl Scout Cookies.

Spill it, reader. What do kids sell that you cannot refuse to buy?

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because I'm nice

I always answer my door. Our driveway is a quarter mile long. We live kind of in the middle of nowhere special. It takes an effort, a real effort to knock on my door. Consequently, I entertain the idealistic dreams of politicians running for office, the promises of door-to-door salespeople, the carefully choreographed presentations of the Jehovah's Witnesses. No kidding, two just left my house right now. I took their tract politely and answered their questions, but was that insincere of me to accept their literature when I have no plans to read it? I don't know...

So I receive a fair share of proselytizing, pimping, promoting and parroting. Which leads me to a funny store from the Green Girl Chronicles. A tale trotted out to entertain folks at bonfires, at public taverns, at family gatherings and at neighborhood parties.

Green Girl and the Meat Man

It was a blistering hot July day when the doorbell rang. Green Girl answered it, wiping the glean of sweat from her forehead. Before her stood a young man who greeted her enthusiastically and gesticulated to a van behind him. "I work for a meat wholesaler--I sell meat to different restaurants and businesses in your area. Boy, it's hot out today. My van's overheating and the cooler in back is broken. I just got off the phone with my manager over in Bigville and he gave me permission to sell everything in back at a discount. Practically at cost. I'm not going to make it back to Bigville and I need to get rid of this meat. Can you help me out?"

Green Girl married a carnivore and together they'd enjoyed many a cut of beef over their charcoal grill. She thought a moment and agreed to look over the Meat Man's brochure.

"See, it's all Grade A cuts of meat, premium quality. Like you'd get at a nice supper club. Each is individually packaged and flash frozen for maximum taste. They're super convenient." Meat Man pulled a box of steaks out of the back of his van and opened it to demonstrate. "Each case gives you cuts of bacon wrapped filet, sirloin, porterhouse, T-bone... every one in your family can choose their cut, just like in a restaurant. They cook up tender and tasty at every meal."

Green Girl considered the attributes of the case of meat.

"I've got cases of pork, beef, chicken and fish." He dug out a order form and a pencil, scrawled a few numbers and looked up at Green Girl. "Fifty percent off. That's what my manager told me I could sell them at."

"Tell me about the chicken," Green Girl said.

"Each case has different marinated chicken breasts and breaded chicken nuggets. I bet your kids love chicken tenders. These are the best I've ever eaten. There's teriyaki, honey-mustard..." Meat Man pointed to the colorful brochure in Green Girl's hand. "Your satisfaction is guaranteed. If you decide you don't like the meat, we'll come pick it up and reimburse you for whatever you don't eat."

Green Girl thought this made his business sound on the level.

"And after a year, we'll replace any cuts you don't eat with fresh meat. We stand 100% behind our product." He paused and shot her a pitiful glance. "Do you mind if we stand inside? Can I get a glass of water? It's really hot out here." He looked worriedly at his van. "I've been driving around since six this morning and I've got to get rid of these last 10 cases before I can head back home."

Green Girl escorted Meat Man into her kitchen where she poured him a glass of water. She felt safe, Lefty was nearby with the kids and Lefty was a big kid. He'd protect the family if anything got funny.

Mr. D loved meat. Green Girl imagined his delighted surprise to find a freezer full of delicious cuts of beef, chicken and pork. And at half price! He'd be happy and proud of her clever bargain. "Ten cases, you say?"

Meat Man nodded earnestly at her. "That's all I've got. Like I said, it's a steal. It's less than what a restaurant would pay, but my manager said..."

"I'll take them."

Meat Man and Lefty hauled 10 cases of meat to Green Girl's basement. They managed to pack frozen packages of meat into the basement freezer, the upstairs refrigerator and when they ran out of freezer space, filled the top of the beer fridge in the garage. That's a lot of meat, Green Girl thought with a twinge of worry. Then she turned to Meat Man who handed over the bill. Oooh, that's a lot of money. Even at 50% off, this was an expensive purchase. She and Mr. D had agreements about how much money they could spend without checking in with each other. The bill in Green Girl's hand violated that agreement.

But, she looked at the Meat Man, all the meat had been taken out of the cases and now sat in three different freezers throughout her house. She looked at Lefty, who gulped a glass of water and studiously avoided her gaze. The pressure. "Fifty percent's the best you can do?"

Meat Man nodded.

Green Girl wrote him a check and prayed hard that Mr. D loved meat as much as she hoped he did.

After Meat Man drove away, Green Girl called Mr. D to prepare him. "I bought you a surprise today," she said.

"What's that?"

"Meat! You love meat and this guy in a van ..." she related the story to Mr. D.

"But honey, I just ordered a half a cow from Our Favorite Butcher. What are we going to do with all this meat?"

Oh dear. "But we love meat! We're carnivores! We'll eat it." Green Girl said with false confidence.

Mr. D went straight to a ballgame that night and talked to Lefty. "I hear my wife bought some meat today."

Lefty avoided eye contact and nodded.

"How much did she buy? Like a hundred dollars' worth?"

Lefty never answered. Instead, he took off running to the dugout, the palor of fear draining color from his face.

Later that night Mr. D came home and saw the freezers. Then he saw the checkbook. Then the yelling started. "How could you?"

"I don't know." Green Girl sat down and covered her face.

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't." Green Girl began to weep.

"Where will I put the half a cow?"

"I don't know."

"I don't understand. You're smart. You don't do things like this. Why? How? Why?" Mr. D shook his head and stared dazedly at the checkbook again.

"I don't know," Green Girl moaned.

A week later Mr. D had a brand new chest freezer delivered. Lefty hauled half a cow to the basement and Mr. D instructed him to load it into "Freezer B." Green Girl tried desperately to sell the meat at cost to all of her friends and neighbors, but had no takers.

In a final blow to her ego, Green Girl heard the women at golf league talking about the man selling meat, his van was breaking down and his manager had given him permission to sell the last ten cases at half price. "Was it some kind of a scam?" "Maybe, but I bought a case?" Another woman had bought three, a few others bought four. Even with her sorry math skills, Green Girl could add it up: she'd been suckered.

The meat was delicious, even though Green Girl's carnivorous family and friends could not eat it all. Mr. D still refers to "Freezer A" and "Freezer B" and has banned Green Girl from selling anything sold door-to-door--especially meat.

Two years later the Meat Van pulled into the driveway. Green Girl was ready for him this time. She'd role-played her response to his pitch. "My brother-in-law just opened a butcher shop, so we're good," she lied.

But we're carnivores, baby, she says to Mr. D every time they grill a steak. And they laugh.

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discuss among yourselves

The natural supplement Ginko biloba has been debunked by a long term study. While safe, scientists have concluded that it does nothing to help cognitive disorders like Alzheimers or dementia. In 2008 sales of this useless supplement totalled $99 million. Meanwhile more children than ever are getting free or reduced hot lunch at public schools. One possible conclusion is that it's easier to pop a pill than to eat a healthy diet. Another is that our priorities are profoundly flawed when we have $99 million to spend on a useless dietary supplement in a single year but can't muster sufficient funds to provide adequate food for kids. Reading this in the news set me off on a 5 minute rant ... Mr. D blew me off as a hyperactive nutcase.

For the record, I don't believe in supplements--my husband has a row of bottles of pills he pops, but I'm healthier than him and I don't take anything extra--no Vitamin C, E, D, B, zinc, euchanichea, folic acid, nothing.
I should also add I give Mr. T a dose of fish oil every morning to help boost his brain power. So I guess I believe in some supplements...kind of forgot about those.

What say you, reader?

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a business proposition

The equation is already out there:
Produce TV series/film + Produce commercial enterprise = PROFIT.

The NFL makes money off it's logo--splattered across everything from sweatshirts to charcoal grills. Disney World makes as much money off Hannah Montana as they do from lunch boxes, t-shirts and yogurt emblazoned with Miley Cyrus. Marvel Comics sells comic books, cartoons, video games, movies, toys and snack food. The popularity of Nickelodeon TV shows has morphed from toys and breakfast cereal into a vacation destination.

It's no secret that most women in America are huge fans of What Not to Wear. Ask any neighbor, friend, co-worker or relative--we all dream of getting the makeover. Even Green Girl knows that jeans, t-shirt and flip flops are a Glamour Don't, but she hasn't got the professional help to fix herself up. But the odds of getting on WNTW are slim to none--no matter how many times we get our best friend to submit photos of us wearing our mom jeans and flannel shirts to the grocery store.

So here's my proposition: The WNTW Salon. In every major metropolitan area the WNTW Salon will offer the WNTW experience starting at $2,000 on up to make over women who need help without the inconvenience and embarrassment of being on television.
The set up: WNTW Salon consultants have been trained by Stacy London and Clinton Kelly to read a client, assess their needs and recommend fashion fixes for their wardrobe. In their salon they will present clients with a brief questionairre, examine the client's wardrobe and demonstrate their current fashion flaws and faux pas using the WNTW trademark 360 degree mirror. They'll present a computer-generated outline of what the client should wear and take them shopping. After that, a WNTW Salon cosmetologist will advise and demonstrate make up and a stylist will re-do the client's hair. In less than 3 days a woman (or very confident metrosexual man) will walk out confident, stylish and ready to face life with a new look that reflects both their personality and lifestyle. The client will pay for all shopping expenses, $2,000 will purchase the base consultation experience and a 3-hour shopping experience. Clients can pay more money for more extentsive services.

According to my calculations, an annual 250 clients/WNTW Salon will put each venture in the black each year. TLC will take it's cut for extending it's copyright and The Women's Colony will get the rest of the profits to establish itself firmly and squarely on a 100 acre site in Washington State.


What do you think?

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starter house

This morning I learned (from NPR, of course) that more homeowners than ever right now are first time homebuyers currently renting. Rather than looking for jaccuzi tubs and vaulted entryways in McMansions, they're looking for a mortgage that they can afford if a memeber of their household loses their job. Seems reasonable, doesn't it?

In fact, one wonders how homebuyers evolved away from making affordability their #1 criteria.

Which brings me to a story of a young couple who, nearly 15 years ago, decided to buy their first house. We'll call them Green Girl and Mr. D. They were D.I.N.K.s--earning about $70,000 annually between her teacher salary and his sales commission. They'd lived in a modest 2-bedroom apartment for a couple years and had saved a down payment for their first house (in addition to monthly investments in their retirement accounts).

Mr. D had a background in banking and finance and determined that they could afford a mortgage for a house valued between $75,000-$110,000. Bearing that range in mind, our young couple scoured the classifieds. Mostly they found 3-bedroom ranch-style homes which Green Girl did not want. They enlisted a real estate agent and explained their dilemma. They wanted a character home for about $100,000. It had to be within a short drive of their jobs, in a reasonably decent neighborhood, and could not require a lot of work. In other words, they'd settle for a $90,000 home if it needed new carpets and paint because they had to have an allowance for said updates.

The agent took them around. Naturally Green Girl and Mr. D fell hopelessly in love with the first house and predictably they were outbid and lost it to another family. The attractive young couple rallied and continued their quest for their Starter Home.

(Let me pause here and explain the Starter Home. It's a house that is affordable in the short term plan. It's not the Forever House, it's an investment where an equivalent rental payment will go into Home Equity which will build up over 5 or more years enabling one to then sell their Starter Home and move into a Forever House.)

Their grand tour of Wisconsin ranch-style homes ended with an excited phone call. "It's adorable! It's exactly what you want!" the agent enthused. Green Girl and Mr. D agreed to check it out.

On a quiet street, in a regular-sized city lot stood a yellow house with burgundy shutters. The front part was the original house, added on at the back side creating 1,200 square feet. Green Girl walked through the 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom, L-shaped structure with a detatched 2-car garage. The carpet was new, the walls mostly white. The front part of the house (2 bedrooms, kitchen, dining) had wood floors! The basement was unfinished! Sure, the current owners had 2 gigantic dogs and a narsty smelling kennel behind the garage but Green Girl loved this house.

"How much?" asked Mr. D.

The agent told him a number, but he knew there was no point negotiating because his lovely bride failed to conceal her delight and determination to live in this darling house!

A week later, Green Girl and Mr. D went to a bank. They wore their work clothes, presenting their best professional appearance. They nervously waited to hear if the bank would lend them $85,000. They prayed. They hoped. The banker returned and explained that they could borrow up to $400,000 for their Starter Home.

Aghast, the couple felt sure there had been some mistake. No, the banker assured them, they qualified for a loan worth over four times the amount they wanted. Well, they explained, we want to buy some new furniture and go on a vacation once a year. We'd like to go out to eat once a week and keep investing in our retirement accounts. They left the bank taking not a penny more than they'd agreed to borrow and marveled at any fool who'd do differently.

Green Girl and Mr. D moved into their little house--at first whole rooms were empty as they saved for furniture. Eventually they bought more furniture, a lawn mower, a new car. They kept investing in their retirement accounts and paid for Green Girl's graduate degree. After living in their little house for 5 years they had a baby and Green Girl started working part-time. They made their choices based on what they could afford, not on what they wanted or what their friends possessed. In retrospect they see how that banker's offer could cloud one's judgment and make them do foolish things, dare to dream too big and risk losing everything.

Don't borrow what you can't afford to repay. Be smarter than your bank. Know your limits (credit and otherwise). Pay for your needs first, then your wants. Happily, it sounds like first-time homebuyers today understand those basic rules.

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the party's over

You know the hype when the party starts? You read the invitation--full of promise, maybe even a free gift if you arrive early. Everyone's excited you showed up, they shove a drink and a plate of food into your hands. The hostess makes you comfortable, acts all friendly and makes you wonder how you ever get along in normal life without having more moments like these.

Then the party drags on, it's late--the guests have grabbed their coats and left, one by one. You're sitting alone in their living room and your hostess is clearly ready for you to make your exit. She brings you your coat, holds it up to help you slide it on. She calls you a cab. She pushes boxes of leftover party food into your hands--Please leave. She's trying to be polite, but she's sick of your company. In fact, she'd be glad to never see you again. Ever.

Credit card companies are kind of similar. They stood on every corner stuffing our mailboxes with their invitations to their party in the 90's. Free bonus frequent flier miles! T-shirts! Cell phone minutes! Come--sign on the dotted line! Use our card and let us love you all over with perks and benefits. They lined my student union at college with booths and stalked us on the beaches during Spring Break. They were relentless in their begging--worse than all the sororities asking me to pledge.

No, we didn't get much mail...just this stack of 500 credit card applications.

Fast forward to 2009. You're only paying a minimum balance. You're not making any new purchases. You're a lump on their couch, not budging and not much fun anymore. They don't want you around and can't exactly call a cab to take you away. What's a credit card company to do? American Express has the solution! They've offered $300 to "preferred customers" to close their accounts. American Express. You're everywhere they don't want you to be.

This makes me wonder what their next ad campaign will look like...

Disclaimer: I'm not nor was I ever an American Express cardholder. And I was never approached by any sororities either.

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Green Girl Does IKEA

We have the lovliest first snow--a couple inches topping everything like frosting. And alas, I've no viable AA batteries to make my camera work. IKEA it is, then. The closest IKEA is Chicago, but since I never go there, it's a really big deal to visit my family and ask for Mom to bring me to what Jen on the Edge refers to as "The Mother Ship."

Such a huge store--rooms and rooms of glorious furniture, storage solutions, bedding, towels, dishes, bookcases, cupboards, picture frames, sinks and lamps. All of this is staged in apartments--imagine walking through a Pottery Barn catalog and you get the general IKEA idea. Sweet little apartments that you can totally imagine living in--complete with toilets and "front doors." Sit on the chairs, lie on the beds, try the cupboards and drawers.

One fascinating thing about IKEA is the range of customer--you see everything from college students to newlyweds building their first apartments to very stylish couples wearing designer clothes. IKEA may sell cheap goods, but they're made well enough and they're funky enough in that streamlined European way to appeal to all socioeconomic levels.

The "Rule" of IKEA is to follow the arrows on the floor and write down the aisle & bin number of the things you'd like to purchase as you canvass the top floor. After you're all done browsing the top floor (equivalent to 25 football fields I imagine), you ride the escalator to the bottom floor where the actual purchasing begins. Small stuff (pillows, lamps, picture frames, the fabulous hanging mesh storage bins) is sectioned by category--and did I mention cheap? My sister's cat's food dish cost 49 cents. Glasses are 6 for $2.99, salad bowls are $1.99, lamps start at $6.99. Nowhere (aside from a rummage sale or thrift shop) offers better deals on household goods.

After filling your cart to the brim with accessories, the next order of business is the warehouse where furniture and larger items are stored. (Which is why you have to write down bin and aisle numbers). Shoving and lugging your bounty, you pass through bargain land before checking out--Gift wrap! Candles! Holiday decorations! Deals abound like deer in Wisconsin!

Here I note the weird Swedish names on every product. The blue and red picture frames I bought for Team Testosterone's playroom to display their artwork in are named Nyttja. How do you say that? What does it mean? Some Swedish guy in a factory is laughing his tail off right now smacking the Swedish equivalent of "Iron Tongue Depressor" on a lampshade. The metal strips with magnets (again for playroom's artwork/posters) are Spontan ("Ugly Field Monkey") and the canvas closet storage thing I bought is called Skubb ("Live Fish Musical"). See what I mean about the names? It provides endless entertainment to sound them out and speculate.

At last--the check out. Followed by the IKEA food store featuring every Swedish delicacy and sodas and snacks for the weary shopper. The IKEA people offer free samples, so you stand in another check out line to buy lingonberry syrup and gingersnaps and lox. You're not done spending, really, until you hit the Exit doors.

I'd go into greater detail about everything I bought and for what, but some of it's for Mr. D and I've got to keep that info on the down low. Suffice to say my cart was full when I shoved it out of the store, but the receipt was under $100. And I've done IKEA for another year.

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Tell them Mrs. Weasley knit it

While the thermometer dropped 30 degrees and the clouds rolled in, I hunkered down with Foyle's War, Doc Martin and my knitting needles. A hobby well suited for cool weather, and this time I have a project with a deadline.

Mr. T wants to be Harry Potter this Halloween. Not his first choice of costume, but because of our school's ban on masks and weapons, his first ten choices were a bust. (And can I mention how TOTALLY LAME those rules are? In a rural district, a kid can't even dress like a deer hunter with a fake cardboard gun in hand because, "Oh no! Someone might get the wrong idea! And no light sabers or swords either!" But little girls can dress like tramps, sluts, Bratz and stereotypical Disney princesses without anyone worrying about the message sent by bright blue eyeshadow and miniskirts and cleavage.) I digress...

We can embellish our Hogwarts robe, wand (a weapon? Probably, but I'm sending it along because I'm itching for a fight these days) and glasses with a handknit scarf in Gryffindor colors! We can buy one for $20.00 on the internet (not a land of bargains in this case) or knit one up myself for $3.00 and provide myself with hours of entertainment. We all win because Mr. T will have a totally awesome costume and I have a creative outlet.

The scarf after 2 Ace of Cakes, 1 Doc Martin, 1 Foyle's War and Ice Age.

So I knit away, giddy with my progress up and around Mr. T's neck and with all my favorite shows returning with new episodes (Pushing Daisies! The Office!). It almost makes up for the loss of my favorite popcorn, salad dressing and spaghetti sauce guy (oh, he made some damn fine films, too). Maybe Mr. G would like a knitted Spidey suit for Halloween...I can get more red yarn and dig out some black...

This is some guy named Mark Newport who knits superhero suits.

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The Gambler

When Green Girl was a wee lass of about ten, she and her family lived in Wyoming--the Last Frontier. She spent 4 formative years of her life learning Important Things about Native American History, Strawberry Shortcake and Horses. She also learned about Gambling.

During a visit from her grandparents, her family went to the Holiday Inn where they waited in a dimly lit bar for the hostess to seat them at a table. Green Girl looked longingly at the jukebox in the corner with it's rainbow lights and Top Hits that could be played--5 for a quarter. A candy machine and 2 pinball machines also called out to her. If she could scam a dollar off her grandparents, she could play her favorite songs from the Grease soundtrack, including Hopelessly Devoted to You, AND get a Snickers bar AND play 2 games of pinball. More than enough fun to last the half hour until they were seated in the dining room.

She asked her grandpa for a dollar. Grandpa V was a cigar-smoking, bourbon-drinking, Playboy-subscribing, bolero-wearing ass of a man. He looked down at Green Girl and said, "I'll give you a dollar. Come here."

Green Girl followed her Grandpa to where a slot machine sat on the top of the bar. He boosted her up on a bar stool and gave her 2 quarters. "Put them in, Green Girl, and pull the lever." Green Girl followed his instructions and watched the numbers and symbols whiz past. Cherry, bar, orange. "You lost. Try again." He handed her 2 more quarters and Green Girl dutifully put them in the slot machine and pulled the lever again. Orange, lemon, bar. "You lost again. Oh well." Grandpa V set her back on the floor and returned to his cocktail. Green Girl stood there dismayed that they'd wasted a whole dollar on nothing.

Still, it was a good lesson about gambling and for this (and only this) Green Girl remains thankful to Grandpa V.

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Melonomics & Shopping

Three stores visited and no new rubber boots for three boys. Add in a mommy who hates to shop and her complete disgust with big box retailers who push bikinis and garden supplies on Wisconsin in January and have 4 pairs of uninsulated rubber rain boots (3 pink, 1 camo) on clearance in March when the temps are still in the 30's and the snow has just begun to melt and you have the recipe for a breakdown.

Thank God for the Internet. And the UPS guy. Click. Click. Clickity-click. We'll have 3 pairs of rubber rain boots in the sizes and colors of our preference and it took 5 minutes. As opposed to the hour spent fruitlessly driving around town. According to my math, the $15 I'd have saved buying the boots at a big box were spent on my time and gas (my time shopping is worth $10 an hour--it's what I'd pay a babysitter per hour and I had all 3 with me) so spending $15 more for exactly what I need and want is a really good deal. Melonomics, people.

The UPS guy also brought my Title Nine order on Friday (and consequently brought sunshine and joy to my day). My new Horny Toad yoga pants are so comfortable that I wore them all weekend, taking them off only to sleep and to go to church. Guess what I'm wearing again this morning? They're so comfy that it's like I'm naked. Seriously. That comfortable. I love them. And according to Melonomics, they've cost me $7 a day so far--I predict I'll owe Horny Toad for the pleasure of wearing these pants at the rate I'm wearing them.

Regarding my Zum soap from Indigo Wild:

Mr. D: What's up with that new soap? Where did you get it?
Me: Why? Do you like it?
Mr. D: (expletive) it looks like a hunk of meatloaf sitting in the shower.
Me: It's Patchouli. I love it.
Mr. D: (grumbling) It looks like meatloaf. How much did that cost?
Me: (heading upstairs under the premise of important errand) A thousand dollars.

Methinks Mr. D is not a Zum convert. Yet. But what makes me happy, makes him happy by default. And by applying Melonomics to the equation, he soon learns that the soap was a bargain. (It's tricky math here, so bear with me.) Cost of Zum order: $37.50. Enough soap, lip balm and hand cream to last through the summer. Cost of hair coloring, which I don't do: $60/month. See? The soap was a bargain!

P.S. Tootsie Farklepants has an awesome post on playdates today. Go check it out! It's an excellent offshoot of the idle parenting conversation Suburban Correspondent has started (in my head, anyway...).

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Initiate THIS!

First, thanks for the swell advice on how to deal with my presumptuous acquainance. They ranged from polite to witty to straightforward. Everyone's blogger brains were in full gear yesterday!

On the No-Target front, I saved considerable money buying batteries and lightbulbs and other miscellany at the local hardware store. Sometimes the same brands, sometimes a better brand, all less money. I still haven't found a local pharmacy, however. Walgreens has taken over every street corner from here to Oshkosh and any remaining outposts owned by a little guy are located waaaaaay off of my beaten path and I hate driving out of my way. Mostly because I hate to drive. But according to my accounting I'm saving money on No Target, not always because of the price of the things I need being lower at other stores, but because I am not prone to impulse shop at these stores in a way that Target encourages. In Target I walk past ladies apparel (first department when I enter the store) and new t-shirts and cute purses scream to me. I pick one up and think, "hmmm, $17.48. That's not a bad deal." And so it goes. A fun new picture frame, new potholders that are much cuter than my old ones, a new garden hose. I buy these extras not because I need them, but because I'm there and they're there and gee, wouldn't it be nifty to take them home with me and make my house/life/appearance more spiffy?

Mr. T brought home a packet from Activate Fox Cities! yesterday. I've heard friends talk about these initiatives. Children bring home from school packets for the "family" to do together to encourage a healthier lifestyle/more reading/less TV watching. The trouble with these "family programs" is that they're really just extra work for who? Mom. In this case, Me. I need to post the calendar on our fridge each month and I need to sit down with Travis and write out our family's goals and I need to check off the goals as we achieve them and I need to remind/threaten/implement the goals before the month is up and we get another calendar.

In this month's calendar (the focus is on Healthy Eating) we're supposed to keep daily fat totals between 20-30% of our total calories on Jan. 16th. Use a wok on the 30th. Keep away from "hidden fats" on the 26th. Present one fruit and vegetable at EVERY meal and snack on the 21st. Who is supposed to do these things? Why, the primary food preparer, of course. Mom. And who conceives these brilliant ideas? Middle-aged male administrators sitting around a board room table eating donuts and drinking coffee. So unless Mr. T begs me on bended knee to participate, I'm tossing Activate Fox Cities! into the recycling bin. I'm not about to start counting calories and calculating fiber grams for each family member. My family's eating habits are actually quite healthy. I don't need to "use sugared cereal as a topper to sweeten low sugar cereal" because I don't buy sugared cereal in the first place! I wish these committees and boards and panels would spend a fraction of the effort spent on these "initiatives" instead on developing a richer curriculum while my child is in school. Or streamlining procedures for teachers. Or making the use of technology in schools more effective and efficient. Or even taking the money spent on these "initiatives" and putting them toward our underfunded classrooms. That would be a plan I'd sign on to!

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The Story of Stuff

Twenty minutes is a lot of ask of busy people, but this video is worth it--it's a fast and fascinating look at, well, The Story of Stuff. Please watch it--you won't be sorry.
To leave you with extra time to watch it, I'll type no more today.

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Must be a government-funded project

To the child who took a shower in my bathroom last night:

The traces of your experiment on the chemistry and physics of bubbles totaled $66.00.

My inventory of the shower floor indicates that you used the following:

One jar of Mommy's very nice exfoliating scrub: $20.00

One jar of Mommy's bath gel in the same scent as the scrub: $16.00

One half of a liter of Mommy's salon-quality Nexus Therappe shampoo: $10.00

One tube of peppermint food scrub: $10.00

One more bottle of bath gel (not so nice): $10.00

While I've no doubt that the high quality ingredients produced an excellent amount of foam and lather, I believe using Daddy's bottle of Suave shampoo will produce the same effects. I will await reparations while the federal grant money appropriated to Project Super Bubble passes through both houses of Congress.

Love, Mommy

P.S. Please add to your research notes that the aforementioned ingredients do create a slick residue on the shower floor as evidenced by the loud crash and angry curses you heard this morning.

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My (real) Book Club

Last night I finished Richard Russo's Bridge of Sighs (sigh). The Bumble Book Club meets to discuss it on Monday night, so I made it to page 528 in the nick of time.

Most of you are rolling your eyes and snickering because you think "Book Club" is code for "drinks and gossip under a pretense of cultural and intellectual pursuit." But my book club is a real one--we always discuss the book--good discussions about character and plot and theme and metaphor--and at every meeting nearly every member has read the book in question. But in the interest of full disclosure, almost all the members of The Bumble Book Club also belong to a "Book Club." They claim they like ours better.

Anyway, Russo is one of those authors I'd have skipped at this time in life because his books are long and his prose is dense, but I'm glad we read him because I LOVED Bridge of Sighs and Empire Falls (which we read 2 summers ago). Left to my own devices these days I'd read only Chick Lit and Cozies with the occasional classic novel thrown in to enrich me, so the Bumble Book Club really pushes me. AND I'm happy to have shelled out $25.00 for this book in hardcover because when I apply Melonomics to it (cost per hour), each hour of pleasure I got reading Bridge of Sighs cost $1.25 (less than eating Halloween candy, but considerably more than my husband's Sudoku habit which only costs a dime per hour).

To sum up: Give Russo a try if you haven't.

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