Getting out from under... Part I

A short time ago, I posted a little hint about the grand plan in the works to get ourselves out from under a mortgage. With national debt levels hitting the stratosphere, that debt being purchased by a rival world power, banks going belly up, and all the rest of the mess, my Econ 101-honed instincts have tingled like a spidey sense. I'm no Peter Parker of Wall Street, but I can almost see inflation creeping up the side of the Federal Reserve Building.

When and if the dollar goes under, I don't want to be carting buckets full of them to the bank to make monthly payments. Yeah, I know, it can't happen here. We're too big to fail. I know. I know. Zimbabwe used to be the breadbasket of Africa, too. It took only one administration to starve them out. It looks like it'll take at least two over here.

Call me a teabagger, but I'm uneasy. I've been uneasy since the Clinton Administration's fiscal responsibility was tossed out with the bathwater under Bush and has since been merrily and completely mucked up with the mantra "Bush's fault" this go-round.

So, even if I am a dumb hick red state extremist because I say so, I don't like debt. I think too much of it is irresponsible. So now what?

Well, even if I'm wrong about everything, getting our family financially in the black won't hurt, so we're downsizing. We're already pretty fiscally responsible (and pretty Green, too, by the way) by recycling, buying used whenever feasible--yes, even down to the dryer because we only use that when it rains or snows--and not consuming for the sake of stuff. We've taken a few wrong turns here and there, but we've generally been going in the black direction, even when swimming in red ink.

Red Ink--Blue State
As a pigheaded youth I married wrong and then I got sick. That one bad choice and one bad circumstance left me debt riddled and starting over in my early twenties. I moved to the land of golden opportunity and cheap tuition (California in the early 90s) and worked at whatever job I could scrounge up, happily relying on my bachelor's degree that I had also worked hard and paid for (and off) to scrabble into a position that I hated but had benefits. I stood that job as long as I could and as long as it took to save enough money to be able to get my teaching degree while working part time.

As a teacher, I lived frugally. I was taking out the maximum in retirement and living as poorly as a college student on her own dime (again). Some of the other young teachers invested in enviable shoes and great hair. I let mine grow out and clomped around in sensible shoes from Wal-Mart. Yeah, it was good for the soul, I'm sure.

Meanwhile, I was working up a down payment for my first home. Meanerwhile I was courting long distance and planning on marrying the man I should have married in the first place. He had debt issues, too. By the time we tied the knot, we had our 10 % down on a house just shy of $100,000 in the early days of the California market climb. Our house only had two bedrooms and the siding was shot and the realtor really wanted to "work with us" and get us that third bedroom and second bath, but we had my husband's debt load to pay off and no kids to house yet, so we opted for much less than we qualified for. That house was about half of what the banks was begging to "give" us.

Then the real estate bubble hit very hard. In about two years we had doubled our money in equity, so we refinanced and fixed the siding. Two years after that and six years ago this spring, my Econ 101 spidey sense started to tingle, so we sold our house, took our money and ran. California was too expensive to reinvest in and was spending money wildly, so we ran all the way to the Panhandle of Texas where we could pay cash outright for a house.

We were set and we were mortgage free the first time around, but we forgot to factor in some things: neighbors, pushers, and the meth epidemic.

end of Part I

Marriage...

For Jacen...


...my nephew, poised on the brink, within the week you, too, are about to enter The Fellowship of the Rings! Here is some advice, some words of wisdom, from the wellspring of 10 short years:

Marriage is not for the faint of heart. It is for the steadfast and loyal. It is hard work. It is so worth it.

Some of the most exquisite moments of your life, like the moment your eyes will meet hers after you have touched your first child for the first time, will only be known by you, your bride, and God. These moments are so much more precious because of their secret and intimate nature. May you have too many to count and may they begin with that first marital kiss!

Silly, auntie, you may think: you need no advice in how to weather the bliss. We seem born knowing how to handle it! It is those other times that need bolstering. Those dry times, those times when God seems distant and we are in the cold desert alone, those are the times that try us. There is a reason for winter, for ashes, for quiet and loneliness. These are the times that God is hidden from us and He is at work within us.

As a farmer, you know very well that there is a cycle to things: spring, summer, fall, and winter. You are entering into the springtime of your love. Hope and light and warmth are increasing. Your first honeymoon together is about to begin. After the fullness of this cycle of growth, seeds will be planted in the soil of your marriage, and the pruning frosts and a shedding season will begin.

Do not be afraid. Do not ever be afraid. Things are at work in the hushed season of winter. God is whispering in secret to the seeds the summer has sown. Those seeds will grow, but first God requires a dark and a lonely season. When the cold comes, let your vows sustain you. Your promise and your word is good enough to get you through this time without light. Trust that there will be a new springtime on the heels of this.

My only advice is this: trust each other always, even in those rare times when you don't seem to like each other. Her word is good and so is yours. You have promised to love, honor, and cherish. That promise will carry you whenever you forget how to carry each other.

For now, though, my advice is to forget this letter, forget this advice, and enjoy each other. Enjoy your day and the first of many beautiful days together!

Love and much love,
Christie

40 Dishes in 40 Days: I know I promised...

...not to update endlessly about the 40 Bags in 40 Days exercise, but I am so jazzed about it! I can't tell you how wonderful it has been to spend 20 minutes or so a day going through all those things I always mean to get to but never do. This challenge has given me the impetus to "get a move on" and "get around to it" finally.

Here's one group of items that have made it into the "Giveaway Pile" much to my relief: my wedding dishes! The dishes were perfectly nice and perfectly serviceable, but there's a story that I haven't shared with many people. The person who bought them gave them to me saying in a whisper, "You'll like these better than the ones you picked out."  As you can imagine, the smile froze on my face for a moment or so.

Did I respond to the implied insult to my taste in dishware? No. Did I return them for the ones I wanted? No. I was polite and contained my irritation. You see, it was a group gift from several friends and this woman had taken charge and purchased them. None of the other friends knew she'd gotten a set I hadn't wanted. I didn't want to hurt their feelings or bother explaining what had happened, so for 10 years I've used them and remembered that moment.

Now I won't have to.

A few years back my mom gave me a set of china with a similar story behind them. As an overenthusiastic newlywed she'd done something similar--purchased dishes that a bride had not picked out. My mother had saved and scrimped and purchased dishes she would have loved to have--much as I can hope my friend had done for me (minus the scrimping). I know that my mother meant well and I have come to want to believe the same of the friend who'd bought my dishes for me. That other bride gave the dishes quietly to her mother to store, and after 40 or so years the dishes meandered back to my mother. They're mine now.

I can use them and not doubt the intentions of the giver. I can, instead, remember my mother and her sometimes long-winded impulsiveness. I've been told that women remember everything forever. In my wedding dishes this has been true. I will enjoy my "new ones" and be a bit freer to remember better moments with that long ago friend of mine.

Now, these perfectly serviceable dishes (that were also not on my gift registry) will have two stories. One of my mother and one of me.