The Frugalista Gets (Less) Crafty

There I was in the craft supply superstore with half an hour to spare, mind exploding with project and decorating ideas, not-quite-maxed-out credit card at the ready....

But wait. Hold yer horses! Another problem area for me, the craft supplies.  And all the decoupaged and and glitter-glued baggage that goes along with them. The mess, the pressure, the guilt, the clutter...  I mean, what happens to 90% of the stuff we buy at the craft supply place?  Probably some combination of unused, half used, and tossed in the garbage due to some horrible glue gun or sequin incident. And, whether made into something or still in the package, it's likely collecting dust and taking up precious storage or display space in my own home or someone else's.

Perhaps the biggest burden, though, is the sense of OBLIGATION that these items bring into a person's life.  ("What am I doing lying on the couch watching ripped-to-shreds Alex O'Loughlin catching bad guys while wearing nothing but a pair of cargo pants, when I could be spilling my creative juices all over the house? What a sloth I am.")

I probably have enough supplies on hand already (oh yes, I've had ambitions!) to make a thoughtful, handmade gift for everyone I've ever met.

So, last night I grabbed the two dozen candlewicks I needed (well not actually "needed", per se, but I figured if I purchased wicks then I could use the wax I have on hand to make the candles I plan to foist on some unsuspecting acquaintances or strangers this holiday season), plunked them down (along with my COUPON!) and escaped with only six dollars in damages.

But I can't go back; I'm helpless against the siren song of shiny beads, fluffy yarn, fabric glue, pom poms and wicker baskets.

Farewell and happy holidays to you, Michael's the Arts & Crafts Superstore - I won't be back until next spring at the earliest.  Not until my craft supply stash is cut at least in half and this season of "Hawaii 5-0" is over.

Frugalista Checks In

So it's been a little over a month since I vowed to forego any clothing purchases for six months.  Of course I was helped a little (okay, a lot) by a broken ankle, and a bulky walking cast that made it hard to get down the hall to the photocopier, never mind cruising the mall.

But the cast's been off for a while now, and I'm quite mobile again.  And I'm pleased to report that I continue to keep my promise to myself.  Yes, I hate all my pants, and no, I don't seem have quite the right top to wear half the time, and my pajamas are literally turning transparent in spots.

But whatever. I'm clean and comfortable (most of the time), and I haven't offended anyone with my wardrobe choices.  There have been times over the last five or so weeks that I've felt less than pulled-together, but I'm learning to live with that.  I always took so much care to not look like I was trying, so it's doubtful anyone's even noticed that I'm not wearing exactly perfect shoes, or that my purse doesn't match anything else I'm wearing... only me.  And I'm learning to live with the imperfection.

But meanwhile....I've had to start fighting (hard!) the urge to buy toiletries and housewares, or stock up on what's on sale at the grocery store.  Because clearly the object of this exercise wasn't to replace one vice with another - and oh how easy THAT is to do (says the woman who "accidentally" bought five tubes of toothpaste two weekends ago...)  So now my new thing is to really and truly use things up before buying more.  And that includes all the tiny hotel bottles and sample packets and 1/4 full jugs of whatever it was I lost interest in last year. And encouraging the menfolk to do the same.

And can we just stop for a moment and discuss shower gel?  From time to time I get a hankering to buy a bottle.  And my mother-in-law (Avon and Yves Rocher addict) always brings a bunch in her suitcase when she visits. (By "a bunch", I mean usually three or more bottles - and, no, the teenage boys aren't interested in lathering up with "Mandarin Mango Medley" or "Pomegranate and Peach Passion."  And then JTM and the lads brought me back the equivalent of a gallon from a recent trip to Portland (I sent a Bath & Bodyworks wish list with them, but forgot to write "or" between the various items - so I scored bottle after bottle of the good stuff...).

Now, I am a large woman, but I'm generally quite clean and I don't like to spend a lot of time hosing off, so I don't use a lot of product when I'm in the shower.  I probably go through one bottle of shower gel for every four that everyone else in the household uses.  I expect I will be completely through menopause before I need to replenish the lady-wash supply.

But, sidebar over. Back to the "not replacing things till you run out" thing. If you are trying this at home, please note that toilet paper should be an exception: it was more than a little awkward explaining to last Friday's ten dinner guests that, if they needed to wipe anything, they should use the "purse pack" of Kleenex on the bathroom window sill....

Ms. Moneybags

Turns out one of our local grocery stores has self-serve checkouts where you just toss the coin part of your payment into a little bin, rather than having to feed the coins in.  So I've been having fun gathering up all the loose change from here and there around the house, and using it to buy stuff.

Just a little fun thing to do  - a little amusing distraction- absolutely nothing to do with my being unemployed for the last five months and our current financial situation.  Really!

Today I (well actually "we" but JTM was too mortified to actually participate) thought it would be a bit of a lark to take the contents of the giant penny jar, dump it into a freezer bag and take it to the store to and use buy a turkey for Easter (only .99/pound - one per customer!).  So there I was, as discreetly as possible, reaching into my very heavy purse for handful after handful of pennies (and other copper-coloured currency from many lands) to slip surreptitiously into the bin. For what seemed like hours.

After a while the cashier lady who tends to the self-serve lanes decided to get in there with me, saying encouraging things and helping shovel the rejects back into the hopper.  Which of course, didn't draw any extra attention to what I was doing at all....

Then about halfway into the $70 transaction, in which I had deposited about $15 in paper money and the rest mostly in pennies, the machine gave a little squeal and started flashing some rather obscene error codes.

A manager was called, the various parts of the machine were opened, and inspected - very similar to the process of clearing a paper jam from the photocopier. A big fuss was made. (Oh God, nothing to see here, people.  Really.  Just move along now. You too, sir. I mean it!)

Once the machine was all cleared up and ready to go again, I'd lost my enthusiasm for the whole venture and just paid the rest with my debit card.

 This battle may be over, but the war is not won.  I may have set my sights a little high today trying to score a large piece of meat with my ghetto moneybag, but I am determined to keep spending those pennies, one bottle of pop or can of corn at a time, until they're gone.  And until they are, just call me Ms. Moneybags.

Frugalista Goes Back to School

I think it would have been a much better idea to start working from a budget in October.  Or February. Or after the kids move out.

Here's how the back to school shopping went:
JTM: goes to Bay seventeen times - each time buys five items and returns four. All AMAZING must-have items, of course, and incredible clearance-priced at something like 99% off the lowest ticketed price. Net items purchased: about sixteen.

In his defense, he needs to look good for work (with all due respect to his scholarly colleagues, rugby pants and a pilled sweater, even it was a really good woolen one you got at Harrods back in '73, doesn't instill trust and respect in your students, cause they will judge you by your appearance, oh yes they will) and he's about five sizes smaller this year than last - there wasn't much salvageable in the back-to-school wardrobe.

Kid 2: Needs a hoodie with a proper brand name, shoes with a proper brand name, a t-shirt bearing the logo of a surf or skateboard company, ankle socks, several matching pens, a new binder that zips up, and a lunch bag that magically transforms meals of all sizes into a tiny  pellet that will fit into the smallest corner of his  (not new thank God) backpack.

Kid 1: Wonders if there is a spare binder kicking around the house somewhere, and gathers up a pitiful handful of eraser-less pencil-ends and schwag pens that may or may not work. Oh, but soandso and whatshisname and someotherguy want to stay for dinner again tonight. Man teen boys can hoover it up - we should just feed them platefuls of five-dollar bills.

And all the menfolk needed haircuts. Oh, and bus passes.  Did I mention bus passes?

But we managed somehow, and we're all fresh-scrubbed, neatly trimmed and off to school with our various new and used back-to-school costumes and paraphenalia.

And then the forms come home - about a dozen forms per kid, and each form is asking for money: deposits for books and locks, activity fees, lunch programs, band uniforms, teachers mental health fund contribution, composting fee, fee collection handling fee, and so on.

So there I was in the grocery store last night, trying to decide between mayonnaise and tuna, heart breaking for people who have to make these decisions each and every day.  How stressful must it be for many families to get their kids ready to go back to school each fall.  It's a time that should be so exciting and hopeful, when everyone should get to make a fresh start on a level playing field.  And it's just not that way.

P.S. I absolutely did not forget about myself.  I got this fall's must-have items: a purple sweater and a skinny belt, and a bang trim.  I'm all set!