Consciously Frugal

Holy Crapoly! "A Field Guide to Happiness" at a Steal!

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Tue, 04 Nov 2014 04:11:00 +0000

Hey Peeps, pardon this thing that seems like a sales pitch, but Linda Leaming just posted on her facebook page that her book A Field Guide to Happiness is on sale over at Amazon. Well, the e-book version anyhoo. So, all you folks who wanted to win in me wee give away but didn't, you can snag a copy for $1.99 until November 10th! Holy crapoly!

No, I'm not getting any kick back for this. I just adore her and love the book. So, snag a copy! I'll hopefully have an interview with Miss Linda up before the end of this month. Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

More important than all that noise, VOTE TOMORROW. It matters. Yes, I know the game is rigged. Yes, I know big money is fucking us all over. Even more reason to fight back with all you've got. Your vote is a powerful tool in that arsenal. Use it. (Please and thank you.)

And the Winners are...

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Wed, 22 Oct 2014 00:56:00 +0000

The winners of Linda Leaming's new book, A Field Guide to Happiness: What I Learned in Bhutan about Living, Loving, and Waking Up are...(drum roll) Elizabeth and Roxie! Yay!

Awesome sauce divas, please email me your mailing addresses at consciouslyfrugal (at) yahoo (dot) com, and I will ship your lovely books.

I'm going to compile a list of questions for Linda Leaming this week, so if y'all have anything you'd like to know about life in Bhutan, the life of a writer, etc., just ask away in the comments section, and I'll include them in my interview.

Thanks for playing, y'all. In honor of how awesome you are, I leave you with this:

YOU'RE WELCOME.

Free Snaps Cook Book (and don't forget about the give away!)

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Sat, 18 Oct 2014 04:05:00 +0000

First, here's a quick reminder about the give away (2 copies!) of the fabulous book A Field Guide to Happiness: What I Learned in Bhutan about Living, Loving, and Waking Up.

Take your pretty self to the post below this bad boy and comment to enter. If you have any questions for the author, Linda Leaming, jot those down as well. I'll be doing an interview with her later.

Since I'm all about free, cheap, and awesome, I thought I'd quickly share something you've all probably heard of: Good and Cheap, a SNAP-friendly cookbook. SNAP is the new fancy acronym of what we used to call food stamps. Anyhoo, Good and Cheap was a graduate project of Leanne Brown, who wanted to provide a resource of healthy, affordable recipes for folks living on SNAPS. The best part of this cookbook? It's FREE. Just click the link above and download that puppy.

I've tried a few recipes and enjoyed them all. It's a great little primer on how to eat well on a tight budget. My favorite element is that she encourages substitutions. I watch a lot of America's Test Kitchen (ATK) on PBS and was starting to think that if I didn't follow a recipe exactly, the entire kitchen would implode from my epic failure. Turns out, that's not the case. ATK is just run by folks with OCD. Bless their hearts.

Anyhoo, the recipes are simple, not all carb-laden, and encourage use of what you have. I tried a new way of making brussel sprouts that has become my go-to, and in my newly discovered bravery, I added a splash of half-and-half to it. Hello, delicious. But we all know that fat makes everything better, which is why my fat ass makes everything delightful.

Wait, what? Oh yeah, Good and Cheap. Give it a read, download, and cook yourself a series of delicious meals for only $4 a day. And don't forget to sign up for the give away in the previous post! Doors close at midnight PST on Monday for that freebie delight.

Book Review & Give Away: A Field Guide to Happiness by Linda Leaming

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Mon, 13 Oct 2014 08:06:00 +0000

A few years ago, I read and reviewed a delightful book called Married to Bhutan by Linda Leaming. Absolutely loved that book. If you haven't read it, go do so now. It's ok. I'll wait. Back? Great. You dug it, didn't you? I knew you would.

I ended up becoming pen pals (do we call it email pals these days?) with Linda and even bought a couple of her husband Namgay's paintings. I kept hoping she'd write another book, because I wanted to know more about Kinlay, if she ever traveled back to the States, and to see if she could make me laugh about stuff that's actually kind of horrifying. (She has an odd talent with that.) So I was super stoked when I learned she would have a new book coming out. Even more excited when she sent me a copy to review. But then I got nervous. Nervous, children.

The last book about travel and living in a new culture that I read and also loved (Under the Tuscan Sun) had a follow-up (Bella Tuscany) that sucked hairy donkey balls. Holy shit, Batman! What if Linda's new book sucks? No matter how groovy I think my email pal is, I am not praising a shitty book. Ain't happening, son. Well, glory to the Almighty, I don't have to worry about that. I actually think I might like her follow-up, A Field Guide to Happiness: What I Learned in Bhutan about Living, Loving, and Waking Up more than I did Married to Bhutan.

First things first: Linda Leaming is funny as fuck. Hi-larry-us. I read most of the book in public, which means I made a complete fool of myself, laughing and snorting in front of strangers. But I could not help myself. She has a lovely way of making her self-deprecating humor seem universal, thereby somehow letting us all off the hook for being jackasses (on occasion, naturally. I'm sure you're brilliant most of the time).

She is also the only Westerner who can talk about Buddhism without irritating the living bejeezus out of me. I live in the Los Angeles area, where people routinely shove their heads up their asses in homage to yoga (not Buddhist, I know) and quote the Dalai Lama as if he is, in fact, a god. They preach about the ills of ego while shoving botox and juviderm in their faces at an alarming rate, oblivious to the irony. If I make it out of Southern California without punching one of those annoying assholes, it will be a miracle.

Clearly I have not mastered any Buddhist principles.

Anyhoo, do you ever have those experiences where you receive a bit of information or some kind of comfort just as you need it? This book was absolutely that for me. One of my mantras for this year is Calm the Fuck Down. A Field Guide to Happiness's first chapter? Calm Down. Can I get a witness?

Beyond her hilarity, the book actually gives practical advice on how to be happier. Chapter three, Learn to Breathe, relates a Buddhist story about a monk, our brains, a tree, a demon, and breathing. I cannot tell you how many breathing exercises people have tried to teach me over the years. They did nothing but irritate me. But something about this story and how she relayed it put a visual in my mind that actually helped me get through a very difficult stretch (discussed here, in a post about growing up in a violent home). People have been trying to help me calm down with breathing exercises for 20 years to no avail. All it took was one Southern writer telling a Buddhist tale. Who knew? I now use that visual to help me focus on my breathing and (say it with me now) Calm the Fuck Down daily. It is changing my life. (Thank you, Linda.)

There are lots of other examples of simple, practical tools, such as drinking tea (which sounded more like LSD in that chapter but I'll let you suss that one out for yourself) and taking long walks that are told with such humor that it seems like something I had never considered previously. Then again, walking in the mountains of Bhutan is an experience I couldn't fathom before I read her work. There are tender chapters, See the World with Your Heart and Parent Yourself, where Linda's humor is matched by a softness that made me wish I could cuddle the book without getting paper cuts.

But I think what I loved the most about this A Field Guide to Happiness is that it acknowledges that life is hard. Americans are diabolical when it comes to positive and magical thinking to the point where we seem to believe that if life isn't one constant state of bliss, we're somehow doing it wrong. Linda actually has a chapter titled Don't Expect Everything to Always Work Out. I was a bit shocked when I first read that chapter title. That sentiment is the antithesis of what so many of us hear these days, particularly in the age of the "Law of Attraction." I firmly believe that relentless insistence on blissed-out positivity is actually making us more anxious and depressed. Sometimes shit doesn't work out. And that's okay. (See chapter 1: Calm Down.) There is such a sense of relief in acknowledging that life ebbs and flows and is often difficult. That does not mean it is broken. It just is. Even when things suck, it's okay. I don't have to force a silver lining. I can just sit with it and then go about my day. Insert deep, relieving sigh.

A Field Guide to Happiness is a beautiful book. Hilarious, tender, insightful, and delightfully accessible. I love it. I think you should have a copy, which is why I'm giving two copies away. I'm also going to interview Linda (she doesn't know this yet, but by god she'll tolerate it) for this little corner of the interwebs.

So, if you would like to be entered into the give away, please leave a comment indicating so in the comments section. Folks who comment via email, feel free to let me know via email. And if you have a question for Linda about the book, her writing, what it's like to live between Bhutan and Tennessee, how she manages a cross-cultural marriage (that shit ain't easy, yo), or anything else your pretty little head can think of, just ask in the comments section, and I'll try to add it to the interview mix.

The give away closes next Monday, October 20th, at midnight. If you can't wait that long, I encourage you to get a copy for yourself. It's definitely going to be one of my go-to books for a shot of humor and practical wisdom to help me through this strange experience called life. I think it will help you too.

Domestic Violence

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Thu, 02 Oct 2014 05:23:00 +0000

Pardon the lack of posting. I've been insanely busy! And just plain ol' insane. Please also forgive me for delving into (seemingly) non-consciously frugal related topics. But then again, all of this stuff is connected. At least for this gal.

*Trigger warning* I am going to talk about domestic violence/men's violence against women. If this is a sensitive topic for you, please exit this blog and spend some time with Calming Manatee.

I normally do not write or talk about this issue, as it is a major trigger for me. But I am learning that avoiding the issue results in compulsive behavior around spending and eating. At least for me. I'm sure the rest of you are way saner. So, in the name of sanity over compulsion, I'm going there.

Regular readers know by now that I was a raised in violence. My father was an abusive alcoholic. My brother and I used to joke that we thought we'd end up dying in a murder-suicide at the hands of my father, and we couldn't believe we were still around. Sadly, not all of my family members are fairing well. Addiction and violence are often systemic and multi-generational in families. My family is pretty much a textbook case.

Recently, an NFL football player was caught punching his wife on video camera. There was a great deal of discourse about it in the media. As is typical in discussions around men's violence, a majority of the conversation centered on the victim's "role" and "responsibility." My facebook feed was littered with chatter about her "choice" to stay with him. I saw virtually nothing about his choice to punch her in the face. I actually got into an argument with a guy over his focus on her choice to marry the guy. I might have dropped an F-bomb or two. Were he in front of my face (he lives in my building), I would have decked him as I asked him why he "chose" to provoke me. Needless to say, this shit pisses me off.

For anyone who doesn't understand why women "choose" to stay, let me offer a story. One night, my mother packed me and my sister into the car (my other sister no longer lived with us due to my father's violence, but that's another story entirely) and attempted to leave my dad. Somehow, he found us. He always did. We were still trying to make our escape as he rammed our car off the side of the road. In typical fashion, he had a loaded weapon with him and threatened to use it if my mother didn't allow him into the car. Fearing for our lives, she let him in. He proceeded to bash her head into the dashboard the entire way home as my sister and I sat in the back, screaming. In between blows to her head, he threatened to kill us if we ever left again.

Choice is not what you think it is in violent environments.

Let's talk about choice of a different kind. Why do we choose to focus on the victim's "role?" Misogyny is at the table, of course. Victim blaming is a national pastime, at least when the victim is a woman. But I think there's another issue at play here--men's collective responsibility to address their violence and create solutions. There are anger management programs that are court mandated. I've never read any research on their efficacy. Thus far, the only public campaign I've seen around men's violence involves the "Real Men" campaign, where celebrities hold signs that read "Real Men Don't Buy Girls" or "Real Men Don't Hit Their Partners." This campaign is useless horseshit.

Forgive me for getting on the "nothing's ever good enough" bandwagon. I really don't mean to do that here. I believe ANY effort in addressing men's violence against women is a good start. But I have to ask, is the "Real Men" campaign truly your A-game? 'Cuz if so, you need to get back to the drawing board, son. Let me explain why.

The Real Men campaign is an attempt at shaming men into behaving better. It uses the language of misogyny, which is asinine. If men who hurt women aren't "real" men, what are they? Bitches? So, um...they're women, and that's inherently gross, amiright? If they aren't men, are they then boys? What's wrong with being a boy? Are boys inherently violent? I don't think so. If we're asking men to step up to the plate and take responsibility for their behavior, I would argue that shaming is the least effective way in which to do so.

Shame doesn't heal. In fact, shame can push people into unwanted behavior, namely addiction and violence. Hurt people hurt. Hurt people merit our compassion. We know this, but we have such a difficult time having compassion for a violent man. His behavior is repugnant. Brutal. How in god's name can we possible have compassion for someone who does such unbelievably fucked up things? Because lawd knows, no matter how you feel, behavior is a choice.

My father and uncles used to tell stories of how their mother would beat their younger siblings when they were breastfeeding. If one of my uncles was teething and bit down on her nipple, she would start beating them in the face. The older kids would rush in and grab the baby from her. So, yeah. It doesn't surprise me that my father, having been battered since birth, grew up to be an abuser. That's the only way I learned to have compassion for him--seeing him as an infant, being beaten. Did that excuse his brutality towards my mother? Of course not. But it did help me realize that shaming him would do nothing to mitigate his violence. It made me realize that to stop the violence, he would have to heal his woundedness. He would have to choose to walk into dark memories he tried to drown with booze and drugs. He would need a support system in which to do so. That support system isn't going to be found in the Real Men movement. That support system didn't exist when I was a child. In fact, domestic violence wasn't even a crime when I was a kid. I ain't that old.

Make no mistake--real men brutalize women. I don't even want to get into the crap around gender stereotypes here. The husbands, fathers, uncles, boyfriends, brothers, and friends who hurt us are real men. That's the problem. They aren't some fictional "other." They are men we love. Men who are respected in their communities. Men who make us laugh. They are men we love. Can we just say that a few thousand times? The men who hurt us are men we love. They. Are. Men. We. Love. I loved my father. Felt fiercely loved by him. His love helped to ground me. The parts of my being I love the most are from my father. And he was also a man who terrorized me. The most broken parts of my being are from my father. That painful dichotomy is the reality of domestic violence.

It's so much easier to talk about a woman's choices in violent situations, because we can have compassion for the victim. We can talk about self-esteem and choices, because it doesn't really require any real systemic change. Domestic violence shelters exist. Women step up and take care of our own. Over and over and over. (Not to suggest even for a moment that there are enough resources out there for women.)

But what of men? What are men doing to step up and take care of their own? The only effective, national programs I have seen to help wounded men center around warriors. Men who have gone to combat and return with PTSD, some of whom are violent towards those they love or end up in the criminal justice system. Warriors are working to take care of their own. They help each other go to dark places, to heal from unimaginable pain. Counseling, meditation, group therapy, EMDR, and a host of other therapeutic modalities exist to help warriors.

I don't think we can ask warriors to carry the burden of healing men's violence as well. It's too much to say--fight our wars, take care of your own when they return broken from combat, and oh, by the way, can you also deal with the general population's violence against women? KThx! But we can ask the Average Joe to pick up the tools the warrior community is using to address violence against women. And make no mistake--this is a men's issue. I really don't like using the phrase "violence against women," because it doesn't lay responsibility at the feet of men. Let's call it what it truly is--men's violence against women. It's a men's issue. And it's high time men stepped the fuck up and started dealing with it, because the only way it will ever end is when men decide to make it stop.

There is no choice a woman can make that will stop a man's violence. Improving my mother's self-esteem would not have stopped my father's fists. My father was completely responsible for his own behavior. The only way men will stop hurting women is when men choose to stand up, reach out to their brothers, and provide the support necessary to give men a space in which to heal.

So, why do I bring this issue up? Beyond, yanno, my never ending love of TMI? Because I have PTSD. It's common among folks who grow up in violence (and survive rape, combat, insert whatever other horror). I have had that diagnosis for 23 years. It wasn't until I started working with veterans that I learned there are specific protocols for treating it. (No, I don't know how I was given the diagnosis but not ever provided treatment for it. Welcome to healthcare in America.) It's common for folks with PTSD to engage in compulsive behavior as a means for escape. We all engage in escapist behavior to some extent, but PTSD takes that extra-extra-read-all-about-it mile.

I've coped with all kinds of compulsive behaviors over the years, which has greatly impacted my health. I've known women from violent backgrounds who have closets stuffed full of clothes they've never worn because they shop compulsively and ended up drowning in debt as a result. I have painful health issues because I've eaten compulsively (officially Binge Eating Disorder) for years. Until we realize what's truly going on, we simply jump from one new budget or diet plan to another, confused as to why we can't seem to make that shit work. Well, we can't make that shit work 'cuz it's not the budget or the lack of broccoli that's the issue. It's the running and hiding from ancient wounds. Yanno, the same impulse that makes a man run to a bottle and violent outburst.

That is the path I find myself on now, in my attempt to reach health and financial stability. It is overwhelming and frightening and blessedly freeing. I wasn't able to admit the impact of PTSD to myself until I started working with veterans and realized that my issues mirrored theirs. What surprised me most was that I wasn't able to feel safe enough to take the steps necessary to start the healing process until after my father died, because part of me, buried deep, was still terrified that he would find me and kill me. If you don't look at it, it doesn't exist, right?

Which brings us back to the issue of choice. I choose to take care of myself. I choose to take zero responsibility for my father's violence. I choose to lay the responsibility of men's violence directly at the feet of men. This is your tribe. Your community. Your gender. Deal with your shit.

Methods for Cutting Spending

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Sat, 06 Sep 2014 23:20:00 +0000

In my quest to get out of debt without going full on bat shit over it, I've realized that I need to cut spending so that I can accelerate debt payment AND still buy crap I want and need. I'm not going full on frugal zealot here, 'cuz I'm old and bitchy and the moment I try to deprive myself, I end up compensating by binging in some manner. So, I suppose I should say that I'm old, bitchy and insane. Fair enough.

After spending like a typical American (aka above my means) for a few years, I'm pulling myself back into my consciously frugal ways. I've gotten better about battling the impulse to throw money at every problem. I got a new dog recently (post on that adorable doll coming soon!), and she loves to sleep in the oddest places. I realized a nice little doggie house would be good for her. Gotta buy that! Uh, no. No I don't gotta buy that. I can let her continue to sleep in odd places and buy nothing. I can also convert a cardboard box into a little dwelling (gonna do that eventually). Doing nothing is always an option. So is being creative. Money doesn't need to be thrown at every issue that pops up. Can I get a witness?

So, the 1st method of cutting spending: just don't buy shit. Pretty simple, eh? Whenever I get the urge to buy something now, I ask myself: can I make do with something I already have to fulfill this want or need? Most often, the answer is yes.

2nd method: a cooling off period. I send a link of whatever I want to buy to my bestie, QP (that's short for Queefing Pussy. Be grateful if you're not my friend in the day-to-day, 'cuz my love is kinda mean), and he then mocks me in some manner for wanting whatever it is, then tells me to stick in in my Pinterest account and check back in a week to see if I still want it. It's an awesome trick, because the pinning makes me feel like I somehow "own" it, and I generally don't give a shit about it in a week.

3rd method: be aware of what I have and use what I have. It's actually fairly easy not to spend when you realize just how much crap you have, particularly after a couple years of buy, buy, buy. I have so many clothes, it's ridiculous. But that's a first! And one I am incredibly thankful for after years of awful fat girl clothes. (Thank you, Igigi.) So, for those items that I already have plenty of, I have a No Buying rule. No clothes. I have at least 4 dresses that need to be altered. Those are my "new" clothes, because I've yet to wear them. That's right! I own clothes I haven't worn yet. Excess, much? No new kitchen gadgets. Actually, nothing new in the apartment until my decluttering project is finished. I'm also using the "be aware" method when it comes to food. Digging through my pantry and freezer and using what's there. An inventory would probably help here, but ain't nobody got time for that.

4th method: no new recurring expenses and reduce those expenses where I can. I don't have a lot of the typical expenses most Americans have. No cable. My internet is about $20 a month, which is less than half of what most of my friends pay. No gym membership. I use a public pool that is much cheaper than a gym and allows a per-use payment system.

I can reduce some recurring expenses through crafty means. For example, I now buy flea meds for medium size dogs and use one tube for my two small dogs. $20 a month to $10. BOOM.

The one glaring recurring expense that makes me cringe is my cell phone. For years, I used a drug dealer phone (aka flip phone), despite being mocked heavily for it, at a cost of about $200 a year. When I got divorced and started dating, I caved and got a smart phone. (Dudes really love texting and exchanging photos. When did men become teenage girls?) I got an iPhone 5 for $50, which is apparently a good deal, but I pay $98 a month for my unlimited plan. That's too much. I am going to see about getting a cheaper plan when my contract is up. I dream that one day I will be able to give up the smart phone. Time will tell.

5th method: reduce or eliminate wasteful flexible spending. My biggest area of waste is in eating out. I've mentioned previously that I was spending $800 to $1,000 a month on eating out. My mother's best line in response to such idiocy? "I don't understand why you spend so much money on something that turns into poop." I've dropped that amount to $200 a month, and the majority of it needs to be in a social situation. I was eating shit tons of fast food and delivery, which was making me miserable. But going out with the girls, having a great meal and a few drinks? Absolutely wonderful. Granted, in LA, $200 doesn't take you very far, so we're doing picnics and other non-spendy stuff.

I currently spend about $100 a week on groceries, including household items like laundry detergent. I plan on separating out those costs and reducing my grocery bill to $60 a week, not including bulk purchase meats. I have 7 cubic feet of frozen dead animal, so I really don't need to worry about meat for many, many moons. $60 a week should more than cover veggies and other food items. I'm going to have to stop it with novelty items and buying expensive crap every single week. I don't need prosciutto every week. Special items should not be confused with daily items. Why I need to be reminded of this at 41 is absurd, but there you go.

6th method: if I can make it for less, do so. I purchase crazy expensive items that I could easily make myself. For instance, I pay $4 for a 12 ounce bottle of kombucha tea. That's kinda pricey for some bacteria-laden sugar water. Dumb. So, I plan to start making a few items myself that I normally purchase, such as kombucha, yogurt and bread ($4.50 a loaf. Seriously, assholes?). I'm also making my own "convenience" foods, which is really just about freezing items I've cooked in bulk.

I'm also going back to making my own cleaning products. Not that I actually clean. But I had started purchasing 7th Generation and other "green" cleaners out of laziness. Laziness will be the death of me.

7th method: find cheaper entertainment. I am currently crocheting a MASSIVE blanket. Great project! I absolutely love it. I also spent $100 on the yarn to make it. That's a damned expensive blankie. So, I am learning how to do fun projects but with cheaper supplies. My next project will be a rag rug made from old sheets I no longer use. These projects also occupy my time, which decreases my urge to spend.

To keep within my $200 budget and build a better social life, I will need to find fun stuff to do with friends that doesn't involve $10 happy hour cocktails. Dinner and drinks at home, hanging at the beach, etc. I'm also renewing my library card for free entertainment via books, DVDs and CDs. Hard to believe, but it actually expired and showed that I hadn't used it in 2 years! Insane.

8th method: therapy. This certainly isn't standard in the frugal living game, but I am creature of compulsion. Although it is primarily around food, there are times when I have shopped compulsively. So, I set up an FSA and will start seeing a shrink this month to help me learn healthier coping mechanisms for the ol' PTSD. And yes, I will totally do a TMI around all that at some point. You have been warned.

That's my plan, folks. What have I missed? Any suggestions? Are you still awake?

The Long Climb out of Debt

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Wed, 03 Sep 2014 04:14:00 +0000

I've been asked a few times about how exactly I plan on getting out of the massive hole of debt I'm currently in. I told y'all about the insane credit card debt, but I also have a car loan and student loan debt on top of the credit card crap (which will henceforth be called Idiot Debt).

So, over Labor Day weekend (thank you, unions!), I figured out my full debt package and plotted a plan. It will take a total of six years to knock out all the debt. I have the fortunate misfortune of making too much money to qualify for the Public Service Loan Forgiveness program (not 100% sure about this, but I am about 99.8% sure. I'll let you know if I find a loophole), despite the fact that I work at a non-profit. But, if I continue at my current rate of payment, I will have paid DOUBLE the amount of the initial loan by the time I'm done. To hell with that.

The six year estimate is a generous one, taking into account that Shit Happens. I did not calculate both "extra" checks (I get paid every two weeks, aka 26 paychecks, but base my budget on two pay periods a month or 24 checks) into debt repayment, or the full amount of tax returns (more on why I get a tax return at another time) or any raises. I allow that Shit Happens and something will probably pop up that will eat some of those "extra" funds. Despite the inevitability of Murphy's Law, I will likely get out of the hole sooner than that, but slow and steady wins the race. At least in this brain.

Six years. I'll be 47. One, I cannot honestly believe I'm as old as I am (isn't that maturity thing supposed to happen at some point?) or that I will be creeping up on 50 and in debt. I want to cry. I want to believe fairies or a rich hottie or a huge pay increase (actually going to go after the latter, but that's another tale) will come along and save me, but the joy of being as old as I am has rendered me the following bit of wisdom: I am my own savior. No need to wait on anyone or anything else.

The game plan is this:
1. Pay off the credit cards first and aggressively as possible without going batshit or triggering any cray cray; when that's done, move those payments to the student loan debt. The car will be paid off at its current rate, because I have a crazy low interest rate on it.
2. All monies from raises will go into debt repayment. I didn't calculate that in, because in my field, you can never predict how that tide will turn.
3. Pick up a couple of paid freelance gigs each year and throw that money into debt repayment.
4. Earn a substantial raise (this is possible at my new gig, given the responsibility of my position, despite how insanely attached to martyrdom my field is) and toss it towards debt.
5. Reduce spending (this is a separate post).
6. Keep funneling unspent money from my current budget into my "wants" file, so that I don't feel deprived and say FuckIt and just go back to old behavior. Thus far, I have saved $360 towards some new furniture I'd like. It's incredibly motivating to save in this manner, for some odd reason, despite the fact that it's gonna take eons for me to afford the stuff I want at this pace. But I also have a rule of nothing new in the house until ALL the clutter is gone. That's also gonna take me forever. WIN-WIN, HEIFERS.
7. No new clothes for at least one year, except for undies and bras, 'cuz well...undies and bras.

When I hit that magical day of having paid off this hefty demon, I will then shove that monthly chunk into savings so that I can get the fuck out of this concrete shit hole and find my way back to a chunk of land and a piece of sanity. It's entirely possible that a number of magical things could happen that will bring me to a nice place in the country before then while still allowing me to pay off my debt. But right now, I have to plan with what I've got, and what I've got is a long ass road ahead. Paved in concrete and asshole drivers, SoCal style.

I keep telling myself I'm a late bloomer, which is true. The other reality is--holyhell, have I been a well-informed idiot. It's astounding that a handful of crappy years could cause so much damage financially, and even more unfathomable that I handled it so poorly. But what's done is done. Time to move forward, making sound decisions. I am grateful for the clarity I have now and for the earning capacity I have at this point in my life, particularly given my do-gooder field. Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, everything will be just fine.

Trying New Farmers Markets

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Sun, 17 Aug 2014 08:02:00 +0000

Thanks to a fabulous "summer hours" program at work, I was able to take Friday off, which I used to visit a new-to-me farmers market near my home. I'm a big fan of checking out a variety of farmers markets, because I've found them to differ pretty significantly based on location. Affluent neighborhoods tend to have a lot of prepared foods and craft item offerings and larger markets in general. I assumed that lower-income neighborhoods would have cheaper offerings, but that's not always the case. But the broke 'hoods generally never have the crafty items. I'm okay with that. It tends to be hippie shit. I could happily live the rest of my life without seeing another tie-dye object.

My community has been gentrified, but still manages to be mixed income, so I didn't really know what to expect. My usual farmers market is on the other side of town and is large, extremely popular, very crowded and has a ton of great offerings. Yes, even a bunch of crafty hippie shit. The Friday market was much smaller and didn't have much traffic, since it's held during the middle of the afternoon during the work week. But lo, did I find the world's cheapest and most fabulous vendor.

Check out this massive bounty I got for $20!

They were offering 3 bags/3 items mix and match for $5 (the 3-pack of strawberries were $5). That's a whopping $1.66 per bag, and they were STUFFED full of veg. I have seen bunches of kale on sale at Whole Jerks for $1.50 each, but they are usually less than half the amount in the bundle pictured above.

Other vendors were more expensive, with prices comparable with what I'm used to at my usual market. And I will admit that these bad boys were ripe and needed to be cooked within a couple of days. But since I do bulk cooking on the weekends to get me through the work week, that's not an issue.

I then more than doubled my spending, for a total of $46, buying only 3 more items: eggs (30 total for $10, which is .33 per egg. Not bad for local, pasture-raised chicky eggs); honey ($11.50 for 24 ounces, which is .48 per ounce. Kinda pricey, but FUCK YEAH bees and local producers) and 1.5lbs of nectarines at $3 per pound. There is nothing more glorious on this earth than a local, perfectly ripe yellow nectarine. I would kick a baby in the face for that glory. Check out the total bounty!

With the above goodies and stuff from my pantry, this week will be filled with fancy toast (toast with goat cheese, sliced strawberries and a drizzle of honey); brussel sprout and kale hash with eggs; the world's largest pot of ratatouille; and (don't get jealous) halibut and/or salmon sent from my sis in Alaska with corn and green beans. Did I mention the delicious fish caught by my family in Alaska? Yeah. I'm kinda loopy with joy right now.

I went to Trader Joe's and got the necessary half-and-half, toilet paper and chocolate, among other goodies, but still managed to come in under my $100 per week budget. This amount does include certain non-food items like dog treats, toilet paper, lotion and laundry detergent (basically, home and personal care items I can get at Trader Joe's so I don't have to go to a big box store). However, this amount doesn't count the bulk purchases I make directly from farmers for properly-raised meat, which averages to about $166 per month for about 22 chickens, a quarter of a cow, half a pig, and half a lamb per year. That's a shit ton of money, particularly for the meat. But you have to keep in mind that I live in Southern California, where farmers wear $300 sunglasses. We're all living an absurd lifestyle out here, and I don't expect my farmers to be an exception to the rule. They work their asses off, generally hold down additional day jobs, and they can spend their money however the hell they want. (I do not own $300 sunglasses, because that's just fucking idiotic. But, yanno, to each their own and all that jazz.)

The money I don't spend on gas and groceries every week is going into a "new furniture" fund. I "should" use it to pay off debt, but mama needs a new couch and a couple of dining room chairs. The act of saving is helping to return me to sanity around money, focus on paying off debt instead of buying yet another dress and blah blah blah. It's working for me, so I'm not jacking with it.

A buddy of mine on facebook asked folks what they spend per month on food and how often they cook. It was pretty fascinating to read. Me and one other dude had high budgets (he's an athlete; I'm just a glutton). So, I'm curious--what do you spend per month on food at home? How often do you cook? What are the prices at your local farmers markets like? Are your farmers markets certified or are they trying to sell you Dole We Use Slave Labor bananas? Do you grow or forage much of your grub? Do you have a direct-from-farmer, properly-raised meat source? If so, how much does your stuff run?

Healthcare in America: You're On Your Own, Love!

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Wed, 13 Aug 2014 03:57:00 +0000

I mentioned a few posts back that my friend Rosa died after a year and a half battle with cancer. She was 28.

The short version is this: She went to the doc, complaining of pain. She was thin, tattooed and Cuban. So, he assumed she was drug seeking. Instead of testing her to show her just how wrong her pain complaints were, he repeatedly sent her on her way. When she finally found someone who would listen to her (no insurance at the time), it was too late. The cancer had spread. Her husband said that the doctors and hospitals fucked up her care every step of the way. She died from a type of cancer that has an incredibly high survival rate. At their wedding, a gift from hospice care, one of her nurses said, "No one dies from this anymore. This is malpractice."

Welcome to healthcare in America.

Upon moving to California from Missouri, I was shocked at the level of incompetence in the support staff at doctor's offices. Secretaries and medical assistants couldn't seem to manage the most basic of tasks. In MO, I had worked in an ICU throughout college with some incredibly talented nurses and secretaries. My mother is a nurse practitioner; my father was an RN. I expected the same level of competence I experienced in small town MO in big city CA. Ohgoodlordjesus, no.

But then again, competence in any field is a rare thing. But when we're talking about people's lives, accepting the status quo of incompetence seems a little insane. We complain and complain, but not much is being done on a national level. Obamacare is a blessing to many, but I have to wonder--is shitty healthcare better than none? Is it possible that it causes more harm?

Case in point: Weight stigma has created negative health outcomes for fat people. Shitty care in this regard, much like my friend Rosa, means that concerns are ignored, because you just need to Lose the Weight (tm). Every health concern is attributed to weight and the solution is to just Lose the Weight. I don't have many horror stories of strangers being mean to me over my weight, but goodlordjesus, do I have some tales about crappy healthcare. Enter the latest saga.

Since I started my new job, my self-care has gone to crap. I was exercising most days of the week at my previous job, because we had an onsite gym. I haven't worked out in eight months. I work crazy long hours and have eaten more fast food in the past eight months than I have in the past eight years. Not that self-care during The Lunacy or the past four years of my crappy marriage was so great, but still. I was working out and not scarfing down fast food every minute. So, I wasn't too surprised to find that my A1C had gone from 6.1 to 6.7. Not a good thing.

The ADA recently changed their parameters, increasing the level at which someone is considered diabetic. I think that's insane. I used to work at the ADA and talked with researchers frequently. Back in the day, they fought to keep the "pre-diabetes" diagnosis out of the discussion and diagnosis realm, because you can get complications at a pre-diabetes level as well. Short version--there is no "pre." If you're "pre," you have diabetes.

Today, diabetics are told to keep their A1C under 7. A non-diabetic person's is less than 6. My new doctor told me that at 6.5, she medicates. I assumed that since I am over that amount and that my A1C was worse, she would want to medicate. No. Well, that's okay. This is still manageable with lifestyle changes. So, I explained to her that I wanted to get it under 6, essentially--I want to reverse my diabetes. I was doing great and fell apart during The Lunacy and my new job. Time to get back on the self-care wagon.

What she said in response floored me. "You're doing a good job managing your diabetes. Getting it under 6 really isn't necessary."

That's right. Just "manage" the disease. It's getting worse? GREAT. JOB. Trying to reverse something you likely have the power to change isn't necessary. Just keep doing what you're doing, and everything will be just fine.

Diabetes complications include blindness, kidney failure and lower limb amputation. Recent studies link it to dementia. That's right, kids! If I keep doing what I'm doing, I have a blind, one-footed, dialysis-driven demented future in store. FUCK YEAH!

After years of crappy experiences with doctors and watching Rosa die, I knew I had to advocate for myself. I went into my appointment (a new provider) with a fist full of tools I wanted to help me get myself back on track. My healthcare provider, Kaiser, offered only one of them. My primary options were weight loss surgery (incredibly high mortality rate and mutilative bullshit) and a weight loss program. As we all know, weight loss programs result in 85-95% of participants (depending on the data you're looking at) gaining more weight back than was lost. So, surgery with an alarmingly high death rate and something that will likely make me fatter? FUCK YEAH!

What the hell is wrong with this picture? Even while advocating for myself, I encountered rampant incompetence, bigotry, and outdated, ineffective, and even harmful treatment modalities. How can anyone win in this system?

Of course this doesn't mean that I will stop being my best advocate. I am cobbling together resources to help me reverse my diabetes. I was on the path before, I can get there again. But ferfuckssake, it would be a whole lot easier if my healthcare provider didn't suck.

So, my goals for the next 2.5 years:
1. Get out of credit card debt
2. Get my A1C at or below 6.0

I have a payment plan for my debt and am building a health plan to kick diabetes' ass. I will bore you to tears with tales of both. My apologies in advance.

Use it Up, Wear it Out, Make it Do or Do Without

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Tue, 05 Aug 2014 04:00:00 +0000

"Use it Up, Wear it Out, Make it Do or Do Without." Ah, the beloved refrain of the Great Depression. During The Lunacy (not yet a nationally known phenomena, but you know you've had your own crazy grief-stricken period too. ADMIT IT), my manta became, "Fuck This Shit, Just Buy a New One" or my even more favored, "Can't We Just Outsource This?" $18,500 in credit card debt later, it might be time to kick it old school and get all crazy Depression Era on my own ass.

Since returning to center, I've found myself rather shocked at some of my new spendy impulses. My dog Daphne had some awful bowel issues before she died, and I had a few days before I bought those handy puppy pads to help out. So, in my exhaustion and disgust--seriously, y'all, bloody stools are NASTY--I just tossed towels she was laying on. After all was said and done, I lost about four towels. My first impulse after she died was to just go out and buy some more to replace those that were tossed. But I don't actually need more towels. I have four large bath towels. I'm one person. I use two at a time and wash them once a week. Why bother with more?

My shower curtain is a little grubby and a few of the holes have ripped out. Impulse? Fuckit. Go buy a new one. But I don't need a new one. I can run it through the washing machine, repair the torn holes (or not. Still has plenty of undamaged ones), and call it a day. Plus, after watching a documentary on the plastic soup that is the ocean and the plastic-related toxin laced world we live in? Yeah. No need to add to that waste stream.

I expect to fight the Fuckit urge quite a bit over the coming months, until I am fully back to myself and in the "Use it Up, Wear it Out, Make it Do or Do Without" mode. I've pulled out my copies of The Complete Tightwad Gazette by Amy Dacyczyn, The Simple Living Guide: A Sourcebook for Less Stressful, More Joyful Living by Janet Luhrs, and Your Money or Your Life by Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin to reread, which were the most influential in helping me on the frugal, simple living path. With all the pro-disposable culture advertising that's thrown at us on a daily basis, I figure I need all the help I can get.

Personal Responsibility in the Social Sphere

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Wed, 30 Jul 2014 03:07:00 +0000

This is long and rude and has nothing to do with money. You've been warned. If you can't handle snark or a long read, you should probably hit "next blog."

A few posts back, I referenced a hilarious piece in The Onion and chatted about systems and personal responsibility. The gist: I don't think it's either/or. It's both. Thinking otherwise is all part of the joy of dichotomous thinking, where all things are black and white. 'Cept it's rarely ever genuinely so simple.

I wanted to chat a bit about personal responsibility in the social realm after seeing a few pieces by young size/fat/body acceptance activists. I'm not going to reference the stories with direct links, largely because I don't want to deal with 20-something kids raging at me. And 20-somethings are largely leading this discussion, which is problematic. But that's a whole other issue.

Let me preface this by saying that the first criticism of my view point is that I'm blaming the victim. I'm trying very hard not to do that here. Much like how I feel about poor folks and money--the world we SHOULD live in is not the world we ACTUALLY inhabit. People should be able to wear whatever the fuck they want without any grief. People have a right to exist exactly as they are. But, and this is news to no one, that is not the world we exist within. I advocate embracing reality while advocating for change.

SO! A few folks are documenting their experience with being ridiculed, bullied and/or mocked in the public sector. These young women believe it is because they are fat. They have some horrible stories to tell about how they are treated. Story after story after story of mean, awful, wretched things being said and done to them. One woman said that she cannot leave the house and venture out into the world without someone making a disparaging comment about her weight. It happens every. single. day. (Holy shit!)

It was all truly shocking to me, which is rather surprising, as I am one seriously fat muther fucker. I'm not "chunky" or a little "plus size." I am fat. as. hell. Supersized like fries. Yet I've not experienced nearly the kind of crap these women have endured, and have probably had less than 10 super douche experiences in my life related to my weight. I am not special. I am not some anomaly. So, why is that, I wondered? I live in Fake Tit LA, where botox is king and women as young as 30 start in with the godforsaken juvederm face. (It's horrifying, truly.) Thinness is considered a virtue in this Land of Vapid Twats. So, what the hell? Why are these women suffering such horrible shit while my life experience largely consists of kindness, compliments and warmth?

I started looking at their projects and paying attention to their facebook pages, etc. And lord forgive me if this sounds like victim blaming, but I noticed ways in which they were participating in the abuse. I also noticed that they were making assumptions about why people were giving them grief, and I believe some of those assumptions to be incorrect. As in, it ain't always about your fat ass, darling. A few examples, where I'm going to pull out my inner asshole. You've been warned:

1. One woman started a photo project, documenting the way in which people reacted to her. She believed they were giving her dirty looks, etc., because of her size. She's slightly above average weight. I would consider her a "wee chunk." The most common thing I saw in all of her photos was that she was, well...acting like a goddamned freak. Incredibly awkward, not engaging at all with her surroundings, and seemed almost to go out of her way to separate herself from those around her. Obviously this could be do to the fact that she feels unsafe in the world and is fearful. I suspect, however, that she has some form of autism, and people were reacting to that, which is an entirely separate issue.

What I saw in the reactions of people around her was not "ohgodDEATH!!!FAT!!!" It was, "Why is this woman acting like such a weirdo?" Also, several photos showed folks holding their noses around her. She attributed it to the stereotype that fat people are dirty and stink. Um, is it possible, perhaps, that she needs better hygiene? 'Cuz...well, I've seen lots of fatty hating crap out there, and "eww, stinky" never happened until I saw this woman's project. I have, however, read about some folks on the autism spectrum having specific issues related to bathing. So, maybe?

2. Another lovely woman is an unconventional plus-size model (as in, she's actually plus-size). She has talked at length about how she dropped out of high school because she was bullied so relentlessly due to her weight. She lived in a small town in the Deep South, which is known for being the fattest part of the country. So, that surprised me. She has also talked about how her chosen profession, modeling, has driven her to contemplate suicide. The most common thing you'll see on her facebook feed is posts of her raging against those who belittle the way she looks, asserting that she doesn't give two shits. She'll have 2,000 comments clamoring over her beauty and 200 calling her a fat cow. The 200 become paramount and the focus of her attention. That is most definitely giving two shits.

So, let me get this straight: She's chosen a field where the most successful people are underweight and she is significantly overweight (chart weight, whatever the hell said charts deem acceptable these days). The experiences she's had as a result of this career choice make her want to die, but she still "loves it." I have a distinct feeling that if something makes you wish you were dead, you probably don't genuinely love it all that much. But since she dropped out of high school, she's limited her career options. What's the long-range plan here? And what do all those posts giving attention to haters do? Well, it gives them attention. Internet bullies thrive on attention. So, she feeds the beast that makes her suffer.

3. Another woman, whom I referenced earlier, says she cannot leave her house without someone making a disparaging comment about her, usually about her weight. She told a story of a boy coming up to her as she was in a restaurant and boldly taking a photo of her while she sat there. Super rude. I wanted to slap that little douche. Then I ventured over to photos of her.

She's definitely fat. But that's not the first thing I noticed. The first thing that came to my attention was her outfit, which I likened to a clown suit. Obnoxiously bright, blindly mismatched patterns. She dyed her hair a kind of nuclear orange-red, which emphasized her ruddy skin. I was surprised to see so much color in her hair and clothing and zero makeup (I'm also surprised when I see women in sweat pants and a stained t-shirt with impeccable makeup and hair. It's so odd what we choose to give attention to). I didn't think, "Damn, that's a big girl." I thought, "Damn, that girl looks like a circus clown on fire who is about to explode."

4. I know several people who make it their life's work to search for and document cases of abuse against fat people, women in particular. They see it everywhere, because they look for it constantly. I have learned horrible terms about and abuses against fat people that I never knew existed until they wrote about it, and I have been fat most of my life. Each of these women has a shit storm of horrible personal stories that they can cull from in their documenting adventures. On facebook, I watch them tell stories about how men just want to sleep with them and don't want to actually date them, because they're fat girls. On and on and on. They are deeply committed to their stories of pain.

--

There is no doubt that misogyny is alive and thriving across the globe. We have ridiculous standards of beauty in this country that have more to do with photoshop than reality. Fat people suffer all kinds of abuse. I have some horror stories of the medical variety that would make your blood boil. Studies are surfacing that note health disparities may not be due to the DEATH!!!FAT!!! that we once thought, but poor care received because bigotry is alive and well in the medical community. Fat folks are a favored scapegoat. The "war on obesity," beyond being utterly absurd, is a prime example of just how insane we are around weight and bodies. People will "health troll" (but your health! Being overweight can kill you!) with a complete inability to have a conversation that even entertains the idea of separating weight and health. Fat people most definitely experience abuse and bigotry and are blamed for it, because we are under the delusion that being fat is a choice, despite the fact that we don't have any genuine evidence to support that notion. (Side note: health trolling comments will be deleted, because you fucksticks are dumb and annoying.)

We absolutely need to address bigotry in all its forms. It exists. It sucks. We need to stop that shit.

Yet...do we participate in the abuse? Do we support structures that oppress us? I would say, most definitely. If you feed the beast that makes you miserable, how can you expect to experience joy? If you constantly look for pain, you'll find it. Over and over and over. If you attribute every negative experience to one single aspect of your person, you might be creating a story that doesn't actually exist. It might not be your fat. It might be that you need to take a shower. Or maybe learn the basics of human interaction. Or maybe you just need to ignore the asshole who is cheating on his wife and raging at you because he doesn't know where else to direct his shame and guilt.

If you go out into the world in a manner that screams LOOK AT ME and then become angry when people do and find your clown hues disturbing to their beige world, it probably shouldn't be surprising that you'll get a reaction. Daily. Because, yanno, you're trying to get one. Maybe it's time to admit that? It's not just about wearing what you want to wear. Maybe you want to scream FUCK YOU to the world. It probably shouldn't be surprising when the world responds in kind.

We internalize our oppression. All women do. It's nearly impossible not to. One of the ways in which we do so is to take these external negative stories about our bodies and make them our own. Every woman, regardless of her size, has to deal with a shit ton of douchebros trying to fuck her without wanting to take her out. Every. Single. Woman. But we tell ourselves it's because we're fat. That somehow, this is a curse felt only by those with extra adipose tissue. We ignore countless compliments and fixate on the far rarer rudeness. We make ourselves glaring and harsh in our dress and then blame our weight when people try to hide their eyes from the garish spectacle we call an outfit. We hunt and hunt and hunt for pain and feel brutalized when we find it. We feed that which makes us miserable and rage at the world for being so awful.

Maybe we could just stop that shit?

30 Day Challenge: No Eating Out

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Thu, 24 Jul 2014 01:20:00 +0000

In the process of returning to sanity (for any newbies: divorce + lots of death = cray cray), I've found myself wandering back to things I used to adore. Blogging, being all anal about my money, walking through the halls at work shouting WU-TANG MUTHER FUCKERS!, and other assorted joys. It's kinda fun. So, I decided I needed a new 30-day challenge. Those used to delight and frustrate me to no end.

The biggest and most bat shit drain in my budget is eating out. During the height of what shall henceforth be known as The Lunacy (the 2+ or so years of divorce, death and crappy health), I spent about $800-$1000 a month eating out. Yes, in addition to my monthly grocery bill. Yes, that is absurd. Thank you for feeling the shock with me. Anyhoo, I decided to knock it down to $200 a month to see if I'd survive.

Surprisingly, I did not die. Something else pretty interesting happened--friends started buying ME lunch and dinner. Part of the reason why my spending was so out of control in the eating out arena is that I had a combination of annoying asshats who would never pay their full share (seriously, I attract these blowhards like flies to poop), or if I was dining with someone I loved, I would take care of the entire bill (always booze and dessert , y'all. Go big or go home!). But when I got honest about my debt and my ridiculous spending, some friends decided to take care of the bill for me. I used to resist that kindness. I wanted to prove that I was doing just fine, thank you very much. I was happy to give but had a hard time receiving. (Word to women like me: This is why your love life sucks. Learn to receive. It's the best thing you can do for the entire universe.)

That kindness helped ease me into my $200 per month budget. Thanks, friends. But I found that the biggest drain on that 200 bucks wasn't socializing with friends; it was a "quick bite" because I had worked too late, again, or felt too tired, again, to really deal with dinner. Then I remembered a little tidbit I read from Jackie over at MoneyCrush eons ago--going through a drive through, or running to pick something up, or waiting on delivery didn't actually save me time or effort. There was still waiting and fetching involved. Still some form of clean up. And, of course, I was supporting (via fast food) food systems I absolutely hate. Ain't nothing convenient about any of that.

So, my 30-day challenge will be not eating out in August. Due to a flexible summer schedule, I get three Fridays off in August. I'm going to use that time to create my own convenience foods galore, so that in coming months I can use that $200 towards social outings with friends and not sad 11pm, I-just-finished-work-fuckit-Imma-eat-a-shitty-burger drive through adventures.

I will have dinner with friends, if the opportunity arises, but I doubt it will. August is a hell month for me at work, and very few of my friends venture to restaurants at 10 or 11 at night. But there's no eating out on my own, definitely no fast food, etc. I'll put the $200 in my couch fund, and hopefully call it a win.

To help me, I'm going to browse recipes over at Barefeet in the Kitchen (I love Mary so), rip out my Working Class Foodies cookbook that a friend bought me, and revisit Casual Kitchen. Do you have suggestions for food blogs that are simple, easy, and locavore focused? I need to expand the number of go-to dishes I can make.

Feel free to swing by and make me dinner though. ;)

Getting Out of Debt...Again

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Mon, 21 Jul 2014 05:24:00 +0000

Kinda felt like calling this post, WTF, You Idiot? but someone told me I needed to learn to talk more kindly to myself (eye roll. Hippies, amirite?), so I'm going with the softer version.

Four years ago, I wrote a post about being credit card debt free. I felt pretty fabulous. To have that devil off my back! Praise The Lawd! (Henceforth known as PTL.) At that point in time, I vowed that it would never happen again. I did none of the things to help prevent it from happening, of course (save, save, save, save). Well, I did some, but I did them half-assed. So, when shit hit the fan, as it always does, I was unprepared.

At some point, I'm going to get smarter. I'm a late bloomer. And other cliches to help ease my sense of shame.

Anyhoo, the shit that hit the fan--health issues. I paid a great deal of those expenses out of pocket, but managed to save myself from surgery in the process, so go me. Followed by divorce. Then pure insanity. Now, I find myself deeper in debt than I have ever been. Can you believe it? Could I possibly be more of a ridiculous stereotype? I've been obsessed with personal finance for years. I've even coached people through this crap. Yet here I find myself. Again. I could easily blame lack of quality health care or the insanity that divorce causes and blah blah blah, but I'm afraid that's not the problem. The problem is, has been, and always will be (let's hope I get it this time around, eh?) my spending. I could have saved mightily and not found myself in this mess. I didn't do that. I saved half-assed, ate through it, and spent some more. That, my friends, is some horseshit.

So, here I am. 41 years old and $18,500 in credit card debt. Yes, you heard me correctly. $18,500 in revolving, dipshit debt. That is not a good place to be. I confess this to not only cleanse my soul, but because I never want to be one of those people who professes expertise in the very thing she can't conquer (life coaches and motivational speakers, I'm looking at you). After I found myself debt free, I assumed I would have plenty of time to save for any rainy days, so I played it up. And played some more. Fear not! I'll get to that aggressive savings plan just after I buy yet another ridiculous purchase and/or expensive meal out. Over and over and over again.

Then my health went into the shitter. Then I got divorced and lost my goddamned mind (bonus: after years of having clothes I hate, because fat girl clothing manufacturers are blind assholes, I finally found an American-made, plus size clothing line that I love. I have a closet full of clothes I adore! And the debt to prove it!). And now I'm looking at credit card bills that make me want to weep.

Consequently, I had a conversation with myself that I've had with others. Time to get real, chica. Stop using the cards. If you can't pay for it with the cash you have in hand, you can't have it. Figure out how much you actually owe and plot a plan to pay it down. (I absolutely love this Debt Calculator from bankrate.com. It helps you to see a light at the end of the tunnel.) Find the holes and plug them. And most importantly, remember your mantra for this year: Calm The Fuck Down.

New budget constraints I've placed upon myself after a couple of years of orgy spending:
1. Eating out budget reduced to $200/month (folks, I was spending that in a week. I shit you not);
2. Have the bff's girlfriend start cutting and coloring my hair ($20 a pop instead of $200);
3. No more new clothes, unless it's bras and undies. Tailor things that don't fit (have done most of the alterations myself at $0);
4. No longer allowed to go over the grocery budget weekly with an "oh well" attitude. I take a calculator with me and back off the novelty crap I don't need;
5. No more gadgets, etc. for the house. Job is to purge. Nothing new comes in until all the purging and decluttering are done;
6. Nothing goes on the credit cards. Nothing;
7. All major items (I need a new couch!) must be purchased through a fund set aside specifically for its purchase (see #6);
8. No more crafts spending allowed. Use what I have;
9. No more paying for other people's crap. No more meals out for friends, no more fundraising drives for other folks, no more "oh, don't worry. I'll get that;" and
10. Start using the library again for books, music and DVDs.

The one saving grace in all of this is that I did not take out of my retirement account to pay this off. I paid for three different trips for family members to come see me with a complete fuckit attitude. I know I shouldn't, but I'll just pay this off with my 403b since I'm switching jobs. I'll be able to start off with a clean slate.

PTL that I came to my senses before making such a huge mistake. The penalties would have eaten more than the debt payment would have, and I'd have a clean slate alright. No debt and a decimated retirement savings. Oh, PTL, PTL, PTL that I did not do that.

More importantly, I wouldn't have done the work necessary to relearn how to live below my means. That's the key. If I don't get back to center and learn to live on far less than what I make, I'm just going to find myself right back here again. If I don't see being out of debt as an opportunity to develop a substantial savings and instead decide to "support" all the shit I love (aka buy stuff I don't need), I'll end up back here. If I don't develop a hefty savings to help weather the next round of Shit Just Hit the Fan, I'll be right back here again. I do not, under any circumstances, want to end up here again.

I created a reasonable plan that allows me play money. The true zealot would go bananas paying off the debt. Been there, and it just made me binge spend. So, not gonna do that. It looks like it will take me about 2.5 years to pay it off, barring some windfall miracle. If I'm still blogging by then, I hope we can all celebrate. Most importantly, I hope this round of idiocy is my last. Say a prayer, y'all.

Heartbreak #487,000 (Alternate Title: Veternarians Suck)

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 02:36:00 +0000

My tale of woe continues. 'Cuz, yanno, life just does its thing, regardless of our need for a break from bullshit. My friend Rosa passed away in May. Dead from malpractice, essentially. But I'm not going to address that now. Or maybe ever. It's just unreal. Instead, I'm going to talk about my dog Daphne, who died in June. 'Cuz in doing so, I can bitch about money and my deep loathing of veterinarians.

This is Daphne after "helping" me in the garden one summer. Pretty adorable, eh?

I got both of my fur kids via a dog rescue agency that has since been closed for animal cruelty. The owner, like many well-intentioned folks, lost her mind and just took things too far. But that's another tale. Anyhoo, I had Daphne for 11 years. She was about three years old when I brought her home. Her brother is an attention whore and loves anyone who pays attention to him (yeah, he loves Mom most though), but Daphne bonded with me like no other pooch I've ever seen. And she could manipulate me like crazy. She knew I loved this face most of all:

She was begging for steak in the above shot. It worked. Every time.

Little Daphne had problems when I first got her that the rescue agency, due to having too many dogs, just didn't catch. Worms and a fucked up back leg were the first two issues we had to address. Her previous owner didn't take care of an injury, so she spent her days with bone fragments on a nerve, which caused her pain. She never complained though. Just would sometimes not use one of her back legs. The vet (seed of loathing #1) wanted me to put her on a pain med that required liver panels. I refused. If the drug knocked out her liver, she was screwed. She seemed to do alright without meds, so I figured we'd just continue on as we had been. I got a hefty guilt trip from the vet, but stood my ground. Less than a year later, the drug was taken off the market for killing dogs. (Never trust someone who pushes a drug like a used car salesman.)

We had lots of fun together over the years. She was a great kid. A living terror (bit one of my neighbors, whom I loathe, so WAY TO GO LITTLE GIRL!) and sweet as pie. In hindsight, I can see where things started going wrong, but no one else but me could see it. She started "falling" when walking. I thought I was just crazy, since my ex never noticed on her daily walks. Then she started having other issues, so I decided to take her into the vet.

$500 later, I came out with a diagnosis of a herniated disk and some meds. On day two, she had what I thought was a reaction to the muscle relaxant she was given. Turns out, it was a quick seizure. A couple of weeks later, she had a massive seizure and was no longer able to walk normally. She stumbled around like a drunk person. I took her back into the vet, who sent me to a specialist--a neuro vet. Never even knew such things existed.

This is where I went dumb. I was scared and worried about my little pooch, so my brain froze, and I just said "ok" to his suggestions, instead of asking questions and digging deeper. He thought her problem could be one of three things, and wanted to do a spinal tap to rule out the first potential problem. She was 14. Rule 1 of being a pet parent: don't put old dogs under anesthesia. He said she would only be under briefly. So, I went for it. Dumb move.

She had two major seizures after the procedure. I brought her home on day two. It took her four days to recover from the anesthesia and the anti-seizure meds he gave her, but she was worse for it all. Didn't recover the ability to walk in any capacity. The test revealed that she didn't have what he thought she most likely had. He suggested an MRI, to the tune of $1400, to see if it might be a tumor. At this point, my brain unfroze. What was the treatment protocol for both issues he thought it could be? Same meds, different dosage. So, why do we need an MRI then, doc? Well, to know for sure. Ok. So we'd know for sure. What would her prognosis be if it is a tumor? Well, at that point, we would be looking at comfort care for a few months, at most. How about we just put her on the higher dosage and go from there, since an MRI isn't genuinely going to help anything? So, we put her on the meds.

But here's the kicker--I called to let him know that she wasn't improving. He suggested the MRI again. At this point, between the two different vets, I had already spent $2300, mostly for fruitless tests. But when I asked this time what we would do if it was a tumor, he said something about chemo and radiation. Previously, he let me know it would be a losing battle. But when I called, crying, because she wasn't getting any better, the outcome seemed to change. No talk of "comfort for a few months." No! Chemo! Radiation! 'Cuz that's what an old, sick dog needs, amirite?

I told him I didn't think that was a good idea, particularly given that he mentioned previously that a tumor did not have a good prognosis. She was unable to walk, could barely move, could not stand, needed to be carried and held to potty (which I did every 30 minutes to two hours for about a week), and started having bloody stools. So, we agreed that we would put her to sleep at her follow-up appointment, which was scheduled two weeks after her spinal tap, if nothing improved. She didn't survive to her follow-up appointment. Died in the car at 1:30am on the way to the emergency vet. Oh lordy, that sucked.

Yes, I am one of those people who loves their dogs more than they love the people in their lives. Sorry 'bout that y'all, but you just aren't this cute:

Losing a creature you love is tough stuff. And I believe the vet I worked with was more than happy to exploit that grief to line his pockets. Expensive diagnostic tests that would not actually change her treatment plan? Seriously? Talk of chemo and radiation when they would probably only lessen her lifespan and quality of life? Oh, suck it, specialist. And the first diagnosis? Yeah. Crap. There was no herniated disk. Instead of saying, "I don't know what the problem is. Let's try this," the original vet simply made shit up. Fun times. Fun times.

I had her cremated and a mold of her paw print made. That was the cheapest part ($260) of the process and the only bit that really made any sense in the end. Her brother is still kicking, my perpetual Peter Pan who doesn't know he's an old man. At least now I'm better equipped to handle things when it's his turn to kick this mortal coil. (Please lawd, no.) And of course a friend posted a notice from the local dog shelter that has a pooch I want to rescue. (Oh lord.) Dunno about that at this point, but I do know that I will be sure to not let my grief overpower my better judgement.

Most importantly, I'll be hunting for a vet who doesn't suck.

Spent: Looking for Change (a free documentary film)

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Tue, 08 Jul 2014 04:55:00 +0000

I recently stumbled upon another documentary about personal finance called Spent: Looking for Change. You can watch the film for free on the Spent website or via YouTube. I would embed it here, but y'all can click a link, right?

The documentary shares four different stories of people locked out of the traditional banking system and the ridiculous hoops they must jump through, at tremendous cost, to take care of bill paying and other financial chores most of us do with the click of a mouse through our banks and credit unions. The film pays special attention to the shit stains known as "payday lenders" and other exploitative businesses that feed off these folks. Watching it made me want to drop kick someone in the balls. Luckily, I was alone. Balls were safe. (You're welcome.)

Unfortunately, the judgmental hag in me popped up a couple of times--"why did she make that decision? That was stupid. Why didn't they just..." blah blah blah. As if I know anything about the totality of someone's life from a brief look inside of a carefully edited film. As if my decisions would be any better. As if I know better. I don't. But lo, how easy it is to jump into that mindset of, "Well, if you'd just do as I say..."

Despite brief moments of my own idiocy, I was impressed with the film. It demonstrated how easily any of us could fall into these traps and how difficult it is to get out once you've slipped into the grips of a system designed to keep you down. It also made me grateful that check cashing and payday loans weren't really prevalent when I was younger, broke and in some desperate financial days. Had I found myself utilizing the services of one of those places, I may have never been able to get out from under it, build good credit and have the perks of free banking that I have now.

However, the film is lacking in its description of solutions. This is a pretty common thing I've seen among documentaries that highlight social injustice. They are very good at naming what's wrong, but not so good at highlighting solutions. Generally, they gloss over a few happy happy joy joy activities and tell us to "get involved," as if that phrase actually means anything.

But! The website comes to the rescue in that regard, as it provides concrete ways in which we can help dismantle a destructive financial system by building alternative options. It also highlights specific organizations that are working towards leveling the playing field in banking. There are a few resources not noted, like TimeBanks, simple living movements and organizations like The New Road Map Foundation's free Financial Integrity resources (of Your Money or Your Life fame).

I know Jackie over at Money Crush once successfully used a payday loan. She is the only person I've spoken with who used one of those places and didn't get completely screwed in the process. She's also a financial planning guru, so that's not too surprising. For the rest of us mortals, those places are a slippery slope into financial hell. Yet they continue to persist and are even growing in numbers. Consequently, I'm thrilled to see this documentary and the good work folks are doing to create alternative pathways for people who have been pushed out of traditional banking systems. I'll keep investigating to see what goodies their website has to offer. If you've worked with any of the organizations they mention, or have your own payday loan/check cashing story to tell, please share in the comments.

Affluenza

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Sun, 06 Jul 2014 01:33:00 +0000

Affluenza remains, in my humble but ever-so-correct opinion, one of the best documentaries out there about overconsumption and the social sickness it causes. Lucky for us, it's available to view for free on YouTube. If you haven't seen it, here ya go.

(Side note: the grief and loss train does not stop, hence my lack o' bloggin'. But more on that later. I'm writin' up a few posts, so you haven't gotten rid of me yet. Yanno, the four of you still reading this.)

Systems vs. Personal Responsibility

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Tue, 13 May 2014 00:57:00 +0000

The Onion recently had a hilarious and painfully spot-on piece, "Woman a Leading Authority on what Shouldn't be in Poor People's Grocery Carts." I've been guilty of being that asshole and have been equally annoyed by listening to that asshole. Oh, people. We are judgmental turds sometimes.

When it comes to issues of poverty, there seems to be this dichotomy between "this is your fault" and "the system is rigged to keep you down" as if it's an either/or scenario. Make no mistake about it--the cards are stacked against the average Jane and Joe. Our tax system is fucked, we reward wealth and punish work, our pay over the past few decades has remained stagnant (at best) while the wealthy have stolen all the gains (yes, I said and meant "stolen")...on and on.

So, yes. The game is definitely rigged, which means that when you're living on the edge financially, you have to be ever vigilant. 'Cuz the slightest misstep can take you down and lawd knows no one in power is going to give two shits to help pull you back. We all make stupid decisions financially. Some of us can afford to do so without feeling much pain. Others among us could end up homeless over one misstep. That's a tremendous amount of pressure to live under, but it's reality. And that's where the dichotomy of "systemic vs. personal responsibility" drives me insane: it ignores practical reality in favor of some utopian vision of how things should be.

We absolutely need to fight for living wages. We need to dispel the myth that the rich have worked hard for their gains (newsflash: they haven't. Employees and technology have created tremendous gains that the d-bags on the top tiers have completely stolen. That ain't hard work, friends). We need to change the tax code so that it stops punishing work while ass kissing wealth. We need to get big money out of politics. Collectively, we have a great deal to do to help even the playing field and stop the blatant theft that has resulted in unprecedented income inequality.

But we also have to live in reality. That means we have to take personal responsibility when it comes to our finances. And if you're poor, that means you have a more difficult burden to carry and you have to be far more diligent than the next guy. For some, it's not possible to afford all the expenses life requires. Yet, somehow, we have to find a way. We have to make difficult decisions. We have to say no a thousand times more than someone who has more money, despite the fact that we may work 100 times harder than they ever have. It's bullshit. It's unfair. It's immoral. It's also reality.

For most of us, it can be done. In this great op-ed piece, Mark Bittman does a decent job of dispelling the myth that junk food is cheaper than real food. Groceries are the one area I see discussed on frugal living blogs more than anything else. Food security is a big issue in our affluent nation, as baffling as that might be. What Bittman notes in his article that I see very few people wanting to address is the personal responsibility portion of it, because we don't want to be that asshole that The Onion mocked. Bittman basically says that it's not about cost; it's about convenience. That's the real issue. It's cheaper to cook real food, but that takes time and energy.

If you've never been poor, let me fill you in on the most grating aspect of it: It's exhausting. Beloved reader and commenter Janeen once said that she'd like to see a study on how much more time poor people have to spend waiting in lines. I have easy internet access at home, work and at the library to deal with most of my business needs. Poor folks, especially those in rural areas that still don't have broadband, don't often have that luxury. So, they wait in lines. Can't afford a car? No problem! Well, IF there's public transit in your area. Just note that your trips will take twice as long. Let's not forget that you'll probably have to work two jobs just to make ends meet. Oh, and people will assume you're stupid and lazy, so you'll have to go out of your way to dispel those myths. Shall I go on? Exhausting. It's just exhausting.Of course we'd make stupid choices at the grocery store and buy some expensive convenience crap so that we can take 20 minutes to rest. Of course. Except, natch, that we screw ourselves in the process.

All of this blathering is not to support any notion that any of us have a right to tell others how they should live if they're barely scraping by. Fuck that. The world doesn't need another asshole. But we do need to embrace reality while trying to change it, and help each other find solutions where we can. It's not an either/or issue; it's both.

I advocate working for social justice, because a rising tide should lift all boats, not just the yachts. I support bulk cooking parties so that overworked folks are cooking a few times a month instead of daily and doing it cheaper. Your local TimeBank can provide help with cooking, child care, car maintenance (the possibilities are endless if your network is big enough) or whatever you need without asking you to spend a dime. If we keep plugging away both personally and on the greater social issues, change will happen.

Free Crafty Toys

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Wed, 30 Apr 2014 21:07:00 +0000

Although I don't have spawn of my own, I am always looking for fun, cheap and crafty kid toys. I wish I could say it's because I have five nieces and five nephews, but mostly it's because I'm perpetually a 12-year old girl, trapped in an old lady's body. Coloring is actually one of my self-soothing techniques. 'Cuz crayons are always better than homicide, amiright?

I usually post these goodies around the holiday season so that we can create quick and inexpensive gifts, but why regulate awesome crafty goodness to holidays alone? I must confess I've mentioned a couple of these previously, but I have a new nifty one to add to the mix.

The Toymaker is a gloriously charming world of gorgeous paper toys, many of which are available for free. I have loved this site for years! All you need is a decent printer and some card stock. Fanciful, beautiful and so much fun. One year, I printed every toy out and made it into a book for one of my nieces. We had such a good time making the toys together. Awww!

Here's a collection of dozens and dozens of coloring pages. Just be warned--many of them are for characters that are tied to expensive toys (think Disney), but there are a quite a few educational pieces as well (e.g., countries, mythological characters).

Finally, we have a lovely memory game from Country Living magazine. I have a subscription to CL and often find myself drooling over the homes of wealthy people that they feature, but they are pretty good about providing lots of inexpensive-to-free craft ideas. They frequently highlight goodies from The Graphics Fairy, which is a treasure trove of freebies.

I'm also a fan of crochet and the cute toys you can make with yarn, even though I suck at it. FaveCrafts has lots and lots of free patterns for all sorts of crafting options. Just be warned that if you get on their mailing list, they will bomb the shit out of you. I stay on their mailing list though, because they have some great free patterns. The Crochet Geek is also a tremendous resource, providing free patterns AND video tutorials. I am a visual learner, so the videos are awesome. She taught me how to make beanies! (Sorry, family. I'll stop it. I realize you only need so many hats. But the soldiers and marines I send shit to? SUFFER, PROTECTORS. I WILL NEVER STOP MAKING YOU UGLY, ILL-FITTING HATS.)

If you know of any other free resources for toys and crafty projects, let us know in the comments section! (Please and thank you.)

The Body, Exercise and Your Wallet

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Tue, 29 Apr 2014 00:15:00 +0000

We all know you don't need to spend a dime to exercise. Walking is free. There's a whole movement of doing it barefoot, so you don't even need to worry about the cost of shoes! There are countless exercises that use your body weight as resistance. None of this is news. But plenty of folks dig the perks of a gym, so they sign up to cough up cash every month. Very few actually go regularly, but whatever. It's your money. Waste it in whatever fashion makes you happy.

What I can't stand about the fitness industry is its attachment to the weight loss industry. (I've written lots of crap about body acceptance and my various gripes with food- and health-related movements that focus on weight.) I've been a member at a few gyms over my lifetime and left every single one because of the non-stop pressure to buy some additional thing to "help" me "lose the weight." Nevermind the increased cardio capacity! The increased agility! More energy! Better sleep! Screw all that! 'Cuz the only reason why one should move is to burn the calories and not be so ERMAHGAWD DEATHFAT!, amiright? Insert dramatic teenager eye roll.

So, when I find folks who promote movement for movement's sake or the Health at Every Size philosophy, I get a little giddy. I get even more excited if they promote their sanity without trying to talk you into buying anything. Can I get a witness?

Here are a few folks I've stumbled across that either get it or are close to getting it. The list is short, because most folks don't really get it, y'all. Most are still super mired in body hate and supporting the weight loss industry. But I think the Body Positive and Health at Every Size movements are going to grow, because after awhile, hating on yourself and obsessing about pointless shit to make some marketing asshole rich just gets old. Imma start with one person I like but who frequently annoys me. The rest are just golden.

Go Kaleo: This personal trainer gal *almost* gets it. She posts super offensive idiocy on facebook from time to time, such as "most" fat folks having disordered eating problems (I can tell your mental health status just by looking at you! Sigh) and blabs on and on about the "calories in/calories out" crap (it's true, 'cept when it's not, which is freakishly frequently. Folks who lurve teH scIenCe don't seem to understand that it's rarely always black and white) and promotes weight loss while claiming that focusing on weight isn't what it's about. So, she contradicts herself and is sometimes an offensive bigot, BUT! she does promote sanity. She advocates movement you enjoy and eating foods you enjoy without obsessing about weight. She is excellent at shooting down ridiculous diet fads and doesn't promote any idiocy around fearing the carb/sugar/kale/air/whatever. For that, I love her. When she spouts the weight loss and body shaming idiocy, I just roll my eyes.

Move and Be Free: Also a personal trainer, but unlike Go Kaleo, this guy gets it. I mean GETS. IT. I wish he lived in the states, because I would throw money at him just to be able to hang out around him. (Yeah, he's cute and has a beard. Has ~~everything~~ nothing to do with it.) He provides exercise tips on his blog, shares his story of body acceptance, and is so great at reminding readers that the purpose of training isn't to get thin, but to get better at movement. I loooooooooooove this dude's website and blog. He is a beacon of sanity and respect in a batshit world. Go tell him how fabulous he is. You know you want to.

Dances with Fat. This goddess of awesome is a professional athlete and fat activist. She is also tres comfortable getting pissed off in her writing. So, you know I dig her. RANT. ON. SISTAH. She has videos up so you can watch her mad dancing skills. I'm in love with the videos, because it's so rare to see plus size folks doing anything physical via mainstream media. That little gift alone encourages movement at any size. Dance, babies! Dance!

The Fat Nutritionist gives excellent dietary advice without the shaming and idiotic hyperbole found so often in diet-related advice. She introduced me to the "add more" concept, which lawd knows is not standard advice for a fat person when it comes to food (e.g., found out you have diabetes? Don't panic and start fearing the carb. Just start adding more veggies into your meals. You have now replaced fear and deprivation with exploration and abundance. BOOM. Winning!).

Those are just a few of my favs who provide advice and/or training tips at no cost to the reader. Do y'all have any body-friendly/Health at Every Size gurus you dig? If so, please share! I'm probably going to be talking a lot about body acceptance in the upcoming months, so feel free to share your lil' journey as well.

Let me end on something not entirely related--the selfie. So many fat women I know take selfies from a ridiculously high angle to hide the double chin. So, I started to take selfies from an angle that would clearly show my double chin, because why not? Bonus? Tits. (Yeah, I just said that.) Love the skin you're in, darlings! It costs nothing and takes us out of the grip of corporate marketing tools.

Turning 41, Champions and Jesus

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Thu, 17 Apr 2014 03:35:00 +0000

Tomorrow (Thursday already? Seriously?) is my birthday. I'll be 41. I want to pretend that I'm all Zen and chill about this fact, but instead I am...not. I'm not going to get an 8-ball of blow and grab a couple of hookers, mind you. Well, I don't think I am.

Anyhoo, I have multiple novels to write, and I apologize for sucking so badly at my return to blogging. I plan on carving out some time to write several posts, so that you can be bored out of your mind on a more consistent basis.

Last year, I did a fundraiser for a favorite organization of mine as a birthday celebration. People got to spend money (aka donate) and didn't have to deal with the nightmare that is Southern California traffic to cough up cash on overpriced drinks and questionably sourced food. I've decided to do a fundraiser (of sorts) again this year.

So, if you have a second and a spare dime or two, would you please join me in celebrating the glory of my birth--no, wait. That's douchey. How about we celebrate the painful and beautiful journey from brokenness to wholeness? 'Cuz lawd knows that's a journey we all share. This year, I am supporting the fundraising efforts of Troy Wynn, a 12-year Army veteran (Green Beret!) who is raising money to help support New Directions for Veterans. After Troy left the military to get his business degree, he struggled, as many vets do, with PTSD and depression. He began dabbling with drugs and alcohol to cope, and as the story too often goes, lost control of his life. He became an addict, started committing crimes, and became homeless.

Interestingly enough, this is also Easter weekend. I've written about my faith before and my ever so progressive take on the subject. I don't think about Easter the way most of my Christian brethren do. To me, this season isn't a joyous celebration so much as an acknowledgment that we all suffer unbelievably horrendous things. Combat, rape, poverty, burying a child--these are not uncommon tales. We suffer unimaginable pain, yet somehow, we rise. We take off that death shroud, roll back the stone, and walk back out into all that brightness that destroyed us in the first place. We are scarred, forever changed, but alive. This is the message of Easter to me: You will suffer things you should not be able to survive, and somehow, you will rise. In that resurrection, there is a gift.

Troy survived combat tours and the hell that is war. He found his way to New Directions for Veterans and is now on the path to health and wholeness, with more than 10 months of sobriety under his belt. The gift of that resurrection can be found in his renewed commitment to service. He's found his way back to the champion he is. I would like to celebrate that gift for my 41st bday. It'd be great if you could join me by giving a donation to his Walk for Warriors team.

Thanks, y'all.

Dump the Douche

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Thu, 03 Apr 2014 23:21:00 +0000

I've written about this before, so pardon me for repeating myself (but it was years and years ago and have I really been blogging that long? Wowza), but it bears repeating. Over and over and over again. Most of the links in the old post still work, FYI.

Mother Jones had an article recently highlighting how big banks are screwing poor folks in California. Bank of (we hate citizens of) America has a deal with the State of CA to provide benefits through debit-type cards. Naturally, there are all kinds of bullshit fees attached to these cards that cut into desperately needed funds. If you're a bleeding heart do-gooder like me, that article is gonna piss you off. You have been warned.

This is how the story always goes with these blood sucking assholes. Fees up on fees upon fees. Shady practices like calculating withdrawals before deposits. Packaging and reselling debt so frequently that folks have no idea who owns their debt to work out payment plans. Illegally foreclosing on homes, particularly among military personnel while they were serving abroad. Oh, yeah, and there was that whole wrecking the economy thing.

Big banks are run by sociopaths who would skin their own mothers if they could get 50 cents for their pelts. I don't care if they are simply playing the game of a "free" market. Their actions are frequently illegal and all too often immoral. Handing over our money to these monolithic douchebags is an act of self-harm. So, despite my previous DGAF supporting ways, I beg of thee: If you are still banking with the big beasts, stop. Dump the douche. Many, many folks have written details on how you can make the switch. Smaller, community-oriented banks are rad, but nothing really beats your local credit union.

I dumped B-holes of America a few years ago and am happy as can be (after getting over the initial screw ups I committed during the switching phase). I get excellent service and have a great rate on my car loan. Most importantly, I am part of a non-profit community-oriented bank that doesn't do heinous things, such as foreclosing on a soldier or marine while he or she is serving abroad (seriously, you demons? Seriously? Soulless bastards!). The switch does take some work, but it's a one-time deal that will ultimately save you money and take yet another tool away from the bad guys. And really, who wants to be a tool for those jerks?

Help Primal Pastures Change Industrial Chicken Production

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Fri, 28 Mar 2014 21:00:00 +0000

Hey y'all! Random Friday begging post. Forgive me, but I really want these guys to win this.

My favorite farmers over at Primal Pastures, who supply me with my chicken, beef and lamb, are in a kick ass contest thanks to an amazing adaptation they've made. They are veteran owned, treat their animals properly (you can tour the farm if you'd like) and treat their customers wonderfully. Their grub is amazing, and I'm ever so grateful to have found them. And they need your help! Let me have them tell you about it:

"OK guys - massive favor to ask... There is $15,000 on the line and all you have to do is click below and VOTE FOR US! We have a crazy, rad idea to END FACTORY FARMING and a really good chance to win if you help us out by clicking below and voting for us - no signup required!

http://bit.ly/1eeeGDQ

You all know that we're super passionate about eliminating factory farms and feeding the world with pastured poultry and grassfed meats. As a family team, we have come up with a massive innovation that will allow super cost effective, automated pastured poultry systems to be installed throughout the world. These systems will heal the land, heal the people, heal the birds, and heal entire countries. We entered our invention to University of Wisconsin and they liked it enough to make us a top 30 finalist and fly us, all expenses paid, to present the idea at a major "International Agricultural Innovation contest next month at UW-Madison. The winner takes home $100,000 and there is also this $15,000 "Audience Choice / Facebook Contest" going on now! The idea takes the Joel Salatin style "floorless chicken tractor" to the next level with a scalable solar powered track system that will allow pastured poultry to become more cost competitive with factory farmed chicken. The goal: END FACTORY FARMING!

http://bit.ly/1eeeGDQ

So here's what we need: 1. PLEASE share this post with your network. The key story is that this idea could legitimately put an end to factory chicken farming as we know it in the United States. Who wouldn't want that!? 2. Click on the link below and VOTE for us! You don't need to sign up or anything, it all happens through facebook. 3. Comment with any questions below. I would love to show some initial design photos in the comments if anyone is interested.

http://bit.ly/1eeeGDQ"

Pretty sure this is through facebook, so if you have an FB account, click away! Thanks and have a kick ass weekend.

Conscious Frugality: The DGAF Edition

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Tue, 25 Mar 2014 02:13:00 +0000

I'm starting to wonder if the forties shouldn't be renamed the DGAF Years. I've certainly mellowed with age, thank the sweet Baby Jesus, and have found that things I was once incredibly passionate about have turned into...well, a bit of "meh."

Age? Health issues? Being tired as hell at the end of most days? Who knows. I have found myself saying fuckit more times than I can even count recently. Here are a few things I actually care about that have somehow managed to get wrapped in DGAF:

CAFO meat is the devil (I still order meat off the menu when out a restaurants I know damn good and well don't source their meat responsibly)
Toxic chemicals in my body care products (Pretty much everything I use has a storm of ingredients I can't pronounce)
Toxic chemicals in my cleaning supplies (Still using the toxic shit my former cleaning lady asked me to buy. Ain't going back to vinegar and water until these neuro toxins are gone!)
Fast food companies are run by sociopaths (when I am running late from work and the thought of cooking makes me want to weep, I go to Carl's Jr. The most misogynist piece of shit chain on the planet)
Freaky endocrine disruptors in my food (Bought some pre-made pie dough this weekend with, yet again, tons of stuff I can't pronounce in it)

You get the idea. The kids call this Not Living With Integrity. I call it Shut Your Face You Punk Ass Brat, I'm Tired. I suspect we're both right.

It's hard to be frugal when you're in a DGAF state. The pre-made pie dough, for instance. Not only does it have "natural flavor" on the list of ingredients (urine! The most natural ingredient of all!), it was $4. Do you have any idea how many pie crusts you could make from scratch for $4? Neither do I, but I suspect it's way more than the two I purchased.

Frugality, particularly of the "conscious" kind, requires energy, planning, and a hefty load of GAF. I'm allowing myself a slow re-entry post Crap 2013, accepting that I will purchase some pre-made stuff to help with cooking at home (onion tart, yo!) over spending more money eating out, or pleaseforgivemesweetjesus, getting grub from Misogynist's Jr. I will allow myself the too frequent dinner out, and I might even use the valet. I'm also going to allow myself to get comfortable with some areas in which I may want to be more frugal, but not enough to push past the DGAF inertia, (guarantee: hate spending money, but always gonna use the valet).

Previously, I would have railed at myself for not being more stringent with my choices. Even the small stuff matters, dammit! Yes, yes it does. But right now, calming the fuck down matters so much more.

40 Bags in 40 Days

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Wed, 12 Mar 2014 19:23:00 +0000

Are you doing it? The world's most awesome and awful Lenten project? 40 Bags in 40 Days is a decluttering challenge over the Lent holiday. Short version: Clean out one area per day over Lent. Donate, toss, sell or recycle unwanted/unneeded goodies, and rest easy in your tidy space. (Try not to choke to death on the dust bunnies.) There is also a facebook group that is absolutely amazing. Brave souls are posting before and after pictures. I used to feel ashamed of my messy space. Not so much anymore. Many of us struggle with clutter and too much crap.

I moved into my studio apartment in 2002 and haven't done a major overhaul since then. That's 12 years of crap, people. Although I wouldn't qualify for an episode of hoarders, I definitely have way too much shit. And I'm don't mean stuff. I mean shit. Crap. Junk. Paper. Fortheloveofmike, I'm drowning in paper.

Last night I cleaned an area that was less than 3 feet long and 2 feet wide. I managed to pull out a 30 gallon trash bag of crap. How that is even physically possible, I can't tell you. I had a small bookshelf in my bathroom, crammed with stuff. Magazines from 2010! 'Cuz that makes sense, right? Hold onto a magazine for four years because of one set of pretty pictures in it? GENIUS.

Anyway, the bathroom book shelf is gone. A few other things are gone. I've managed to get through approximately 1/4 of the apartment thus far. I may move this year, so I am going through everything under the eye of, "Am I willing to pack and move this?" It would appear the response is most often, "no. Why the hell do I even have this?"

I am now trying to get comfortable with empty space. I am like hoarders in that I find stuff to be comforting. The empty space in the bathroom where the bookshelf lived freaks me out a little bit. But I have been a slave to comfort, and my freakish attachment to it rendered me nearly brain dead. Asleep at the wheel of my own life. So I am finding ways to get uncomfortable. Being more social. Got that new job where I have to learn how to write government grants (oy, what a pain!). Going on dates. Dates! Talk about uncomfortable. And staring at empty space, allowing for new possibilities.

My miserable job and marriage made me realize just how scary comfort can be. Usually, we see it as a lovely thing--a warm sweater, a comfy couch, a solid routine. But it can also suffocate us and keep us stuck in places that just plain suck. I'm finding the process of decluttering and being uncomfortable kind of exhilarating. I've been able to give a friend clothes she enjoys, and she's selling what she can't use. Donating goodies to Vietnam Veterans of America so they can make a buck or two for their work. I may sell a furniture item or two, if feasible. Mostly, I just want to get rid of the stuff. I may get some new stuff when/if I move. Maybe not. (I'll save first, fellow frugal folk!) But lawdy, lawdy, is this process difficult and wonderful.

Anyone else out there doing 40 Bags in 40 Days? If so, how's it working for you?

Entering the Barbie Years

noreply@blogger.com (Demandra) — Wed, 05 Mar 2014 20:40:00 +0000

My dad always said I would be the first female linebacker in the NFL. To say I was a tomboy is a bit of an understatement. My pops was most proud of me when I was kicking ass, being strong, and taking up space. My sisters got play makeup sets for their birthdays and paid careful attention to dance of attracting boys. I got footballs and bad ass Pat Benatar albums and repeated my father's favorite saying, "You need a man like you need a hole in the head."

All of this means that I entered my adult years with zero girly girl skills and a profound disdain for all things expected of women. Why should I have to do my hair and makeup when all Joe in accounting needs to do is throw on some khakis, comb his hair and show up? Fuck you, patriarchy! You can't tell me what to do!

Like most folks, I mellowed with age. And then something odd happened--I hit my Barbie Years, somewhat late in life. I found myself enjoying girlying up. I didn't feel as compelled to kick ass (not that the two are mutual exclusive, my warrior beauty queens). Unfortunately, I entered these years without any skills. I'm still in the process of learning. This makeup and hair shit is complicated, yo. Women who can use a round brush while blow drying their hair really should win some kind of award. Every time I've tried it I've nearly had to cut the brush out of my hair. I officially threw in the towel on that one.

I'm soon to hit 41, and the Barbie Years are in full swing. I live in dresses, dye my hair a version of its former youthful self, and delight in playing with makeup. It seems I've gone from telling the patriarchy to suck it to embracing this dance I used to think was horseshit. (Well, I still think it's horseshit, but it's fun.) Thankfully, both life stages have delighted me, and my self-esteem has taken a massive boost as of late. One major problem though: Fuck You, I Ain't Wearin' No Makeup is a lot cheaper than all this Barbie Years crap. I'm having a hard time figuring out how to incorporate my "consciously frugal" ways into an industry that is laden with toxic shit. The genuinely "natural" products are mind bogglingly expensive (seriously? $50 for foundation? Do I at least get some oral sex with that?).

My product trove includes the following, beyond basics like shampoo (not doing NoPoo' y'all. Prices are averages): leave-in conditioner ($20); leave-in argan oil ($6); occasionally some mouse ($4); hairspray ($4); foundation ($23); blush ($8); mascara ($8); eye shadow ($5); lip grease, generally 2 varieties ($8-$16); powder ($1); and don't even get me started on the moisturizing products. Ho.ly.Sh.it. Granted, a lot of this stuff lasts forever (e.g., eye shadow) and I don't subscribe to the "throw it out every 6 months or you'll die from an eye disease" philosophy, but still. Going from virtually $0 spent to all this noise? Hard on a frugal girl.

I make my own makeup remover/facial cleanser by combining different oils. My skin LOVES it, it lasts forever and doesn't cost nearly what the fancy dancy cleansers cost. I have all the tools (brushes, eye lash curler, etc.). I discovered the $1 Elf line, but I have no idea what the hell is in it or how it is made. Kenya over at Be Well {Groomed!} has great natural, responsibly made products, but dayum, they are 'spensive!

Wow, this is a really long rambling post that essentially says: I don't know how to do this consciously frugal thing in regards to makeup and hair. I want to support small businesses that produce their products responsibly. I'd prefer not to put toxic shit on my face and hair. But given the sheer amount of products this song and dance requires, I can't really afford to go balls out in the expense category. Anyone have any ideas?