1/9/12

I Don’t Like Mondays

It's 9:04 a.m.

I am at work, sitting in my office in comfortably low light, looking at a photo of my beautiful daughter taken back in the summer. I have just finished a bowl of oatmeal, garnished with blueberries, dried cranberries, and coconut.

So far, this has been one of those days that I will think about later on when I'm wrestling with the work/life balance question. When I look back at "that January when Nora was 16 months old."

Nora has been sick lately. She caught a cold right after Christmas and this manifestation came with a croupy cough and morning stuffiness. I feel for her, because I have been fighting it as well. The cough is now going away (two weeks later) but she still coughs for a bit after waking up – understandable, as all that snot from her nose has likely run down there through the night. Last night, she woke up screeching at 1 a.m. and could.not.be.consoled, until I realized that the whole front of her sleeper was soaked in pee – another diaper breach, which is happening more and more lately. She doesn't like it. After struggling to change a hysterical twisting Nora in the dark, and hubby getting her a nice little bottle of water (I know, counterintuitive but she loves it), she settled back down. Half an hour, all told, which isn't too too bad.

I hauled my butt out of bed four and a half hours later, after hitting snooze a couple of times. Had my shower, and then went to the basement to get the second half of my outfit, which was still in the dryer. I saw a red blob at the bottom of the stairs and was concerned, since I knew it had something to do with the cat (the dog can't get down to the basement), and she's diabetic with recently questionable health. By the time I got all the way to the bottom of the stairs, I realized it was a barfed-up half-digested mouse. I know this, because I found its face, staring up at me whiskers and all. I pulled my clothes out of the dryer while suppressing my own barf, and tiptoed back upstairs carefully avoiding the pile of yuck.

Next I prepared a bottle – a bit larger than normal, maybe 1.5 oz more than she usually gets in the morning - and went up to Nora, who was still sleeping in full jellybean mode (on her tummy, hands tucked under, bum in the air – it is the cutest thing and getting her out of it breaks my heart). I pulled her out of bed and gave her her bottle, which she took eagerly. Her stomach was making hungry groans and her slurping was noisy, mostly because her nose was stuffy. She finished the bottle fairly quickly, and sat up, still sleepy. She does this cute thing where she sits up, rubs her eyes, then puts her arms around me and her head on my chest. It melts my heart. So I held her for a delicious minute, smelling her hair, then picked her up and took her downstairs to change her diaper and get her dressed. I always lay out her clothes the night before, so I have the time to wrestle her into them, which lately takes a good 15 minutes all told.

I put her down on the change mat and got her diaper off, wiped her bottom, and she coughed. Just a small cough, nothing crazy, but it caused a bit of spit up to come out the side of her mouth. Understandable, ok, I go to wipe it up with the arm of the pyjamas I was taking off. I was halfway to her mouth when a bit more came out. Uh oh. Then BLAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH the stream issued forth, out of her mouth, her nose, and possibly even her ears, I can't be sure. Barf has now sprayed all over the mat, her hair, the books that were lying nearby, a couple of toys, and the adorable clean outfit I'd prepared. Curdled milk all over everything, puddling on my nice wool rug. I'm pretty sure the entire bottle ended up outside of her body.

So she is very (understandably) upset, I'm flipping her over trying to clear her airways while also selfishly trying to keep her barf off of my own clean work outfit. She is giving me a horrible "mama help me!" face and I make her sit there, miserable, naked, while I run for some clean washcloths to wipe up the mess but I don't really take the time to make the water hot, so I had to wipe her with a cool washcloth, which I imagine feels miserable at 6:45 on a January morning. The poor little bean. I wiped off her books and propped them up to dry. I managed to diaper her and put her undershirt on and thankfully Daddy woke up at that point and came down to be with her while I went up to pick out new clothes. I bundled all of the barfousness (change mat, pyjamas, cute fresh outfit, two washcloths, 6 oz of barfed up milk), and headed back down to the basement, around the mouse face, and tossed everything into the washing machine, set to wash. Back upstairs, upstairs again to get clean clothes, and finally dressd Nora who protested – as usual – and would only put her pants on when I convinced her that she can't go outside and visit Frosty (our snowman) without pants.

I bundle us both up and am heading out the door when hubby yells that we have no water. No water. No freaking water. Here is the sum total of the water used so far today: I flushed the toilet once. I had a 7-minute shower. I soaked two washcloths, and started a load of laundry. It's my feeling that our well ought to have enough water in it to handle these small tasks. What this means is A) we have a plumbing issue somewhere or worse, B) we need a new well/our well drilled deeper, as well as C) the load of barf laundry is sitting there with only a drizzle of water on it, for the entire day. In the mouse-facey basement. This also means that hubby has to go over to my parents' place to shower, since he has not cleaned himself since Saturday afternoon.

Anyway, I dropped a pretty-cheerful Nora off at Oma's, then encountered a huge asshole driver on the road to wakefield, where I met my girlfriend in pretty good time. We got in slightly late, but the roads were a bit greasy and traffic was bad. I had my oatmeal, and got an email from a friend with some nice news. I am almost ready to greet my day.

My hand still smells a bit like barf, so I am off to the washroom. I do not like Mondays.

1/1/12

Cleansing vs. Cleaning

I have a number of facebook friends who, on this New Year's Day of 2012, are proposing cleanses, lifestyle changes, resolutions and the like. I applaud them! I really do, I really hope they can make positive changes in their lives if that is what they are inclined to do. And if I were a different, more motivated kind of person, I too might take this opportunity to make some kind
of statement of intention to make positive changes in my own life. Only I know myself too well.

I once did the stereotypical join-a-gym-in-the-new-year thing. I signed up, bought running shoes and loaded up my mp3 player, and gamely went to work with a gym bag of dopey clothes and good intentions. I think I lasted 3 weeks. My problem wasn't that I didn't enjoy it (ok I found it boring as shit to tell you the truth, I think there's nothing at all interesting about staying in one
place trying to move constantly), but that I hated my gym clothes and felt phony. Every time I put them on I thought "I have the ugliest old gym clothes in this place" but I was unwilling to invest any more money in the venture, and I felt like a fraud in anything more jazzy/lululemony. I am not an athletic person and I do not feel comfortable dressing like one.

So I found various reasons to quit. I'm not sure what my exact justification was.

And I often come across lists (because I like to make lists, and I have books of them) of foods that I at one time or another pledged to eat or not to eat FROM NOW ON. None of these lists were adhered to. I have similarly found lists of budgets that I should stick to, books I should read, and activities I should take up. Once I came upon a list I'd made of things to do before I die, where I'd written numbers 1 through 50 down the left-hand column, but only came up with about five or so activities. I aim low.

So I resolve once again to make no resolutions this New Years. Phew it feels so good to be let off the hook by myself so early in the game. Oh sure, I vaguely pledged to worry less, be nicer to my husband, and keep my house cleaner but we all know that none of that is likely to change overnight. I yam what I yam: a messy paranoid meanie.

However, I did kick off the new year by doing one onerous cleaning task: I sorted out my kitchen cupboard. It's the cupboard (actually two doors, covering three shelves) over my main prep area, where I keep basically all of my smaller ingredients, spices, baking stuff, etc. For years I have just piled things on top of other things and let them accumulate, wedging miscellaneous spices and crap into the front one inch of shelf space as it came along. See? A mess. So the other day I was irritated by it and I tackled it.

In addition to discovering that many of my herbs and spices no longer had any recognizable scent besides "dust" and that I was storing a few empty jars in the cupboard, I found the following ridiculousness:

- two near-full bags of shredded coconut
- 4 bags of dried thyme
- 3 bags of icing sugar
- 3 bags of rock-hard raisins
- 2 full cartons of molasses
- a HUGE jar of 'ground amchur' (mango powder?) that I bought once for
an Indian recipe that required, like, a teaspoon of it. I have had
approximately six pounds of mango powder hanging around for 11 years.
- 2 full jars of instant coffee (we do not drink instant coffee)
- a big jar of green flakes that I at first suspected might be someone's
stash of marijuana, but turns out to be a pile of real green loose-leaf tea
- no less than 5 jars of honey. For this I blame the Austrians and the Germans - every time they come and leave whatever place they have rented/occupied, they bring us their unused food, and they like honey. We always get the leftover honey (and pasta, pounds and pounds of it). Same with pesto - I must have 7 jars of pesto in my fridge.

I also found about four half-bags of rice so old that it had yellowed, about 7 different kinds of lentils, various jars of mystery powder (don't get excited, most came from the bulk barn), and two unopened boxes of salt that are hard like bricks. There were a lot of 'what the hell is this?' moments, where I sniffed a jar or a bag and set it aside.

Here is a shot of my cupboard, taken AFTER the great cleanse. Hubby says "this still looks like a 'before' shot." har har. Note: shelves are still sagging, though they are propped up behind that middle bar. Don't worry, my lentils are safe.


I realized a few things during this process: 1. I am a food pack rat, and 2. I have weird friends. How many friends do you have who have gifted you with strange bundles of herbs for asian soups and packets of agar agar powder? A giant bag of loose green tea from China? Three different friends. Lumps of cane sugar? Part of Christmas gift 2006 from friend #2, may have come with the agar agar powder. I feel like some kind of minor deity, with all these food offerings. I guess my friends also know that I am a food pack rat. I was just given several lovely foil-wrapped packets of Korean tea and from this paragraph you may surmise that I am into tea, but actually I am not. Sorry friends. I drink really mundane coffee from a crappy percolator, hate to disappoint.

As I write this I am plowing through a baggie of Christmas-issue jelly belly jellybeans. Just ate one that tasted suspiciously of barf.

So I am not making any resolutions, just taking this break as an opportunity to start fresh with certain things, get some chores done, try not to disgust myself anymore with my gross food hoarding. I may make a minor promise to get through the 7 jars of pesto and 18 kilos of pasta, to prepare all of those lentils somehow and to stop buying things in bulk and forgetting
to label them.

Here's to 2012. I promise to follow all of your exploits in self-betterment with mild fascination from my spot on the couch. Cheers to you all.

10/28/11

Gennyland's Modest Financial Tidbits

I have been thinking about money more than usual lately. Partially because I returned to work, with all of its attendant costs, and tried desperately to figure out if we could ‘make it work’ on one salary, and partially because we made the sudden decision to buy a new, not-so-cheap car, but mostly because the financial news these days is all doom and gloom. Between the business in Europe and the Occupy this-and-that movement, hubby and I have been thinking and talking about money quite a bit.

The other night he admitted to me that he was a bit worried, that he was afraid of the future. It’s the first time he’s told me this, and the first time I’ve kind of had to talk him down from financial worry. And here’s a bit of background info on the financial life of gennyland and Mr. gennyland: money is something we never, ever, EVER fight about. We see 99% eye-to-eye on all things financial, even though we may fight like cats and dogs at times about how the household recycling is managed. When we set out on this shared life together, hubby wasn’t doing so hot financially (bad student loans, terrible credit, had never had a credit card, wasn’t really 100% employed) but I was ok. I had a safety net, whereas he never had, and I had a job that paid me a decent amount for my lifestyle – living at home driving a crappy old car.

As soon as he got some solidity in his life, things really turned around for Mr. gennyland. He surprised me by becoming the better of us at saving money, at managing debt, and at figuring out how to work the system to our advantage. Add to that the windfall that we got when his aunt passed away, and I have to say (and remind him) that financially we are doing sort of ok.

In talking him down from the ledge the other day, I really started to think about what it is that we do to keep ourselves afloat. I am always fascinated when I am able to talk with people about how they manage their finances, especially couples, and what systems people put in place to make sure things are equitable and the bills get paid. Turns out, everyone does it differently. Everyone has a different balance of financial responsibility within their relationships and what works for one couple may not work for another. People are often surprised when they find out that Mr. gennyland and I keep all of our expenses separate. We have always done so; when we moved in together, he was less gainfully employed than I was, had some rotten debt that I wanted no part of, and our relationship was relatively new. He had just returned from six months in Thailand and we moved in together (partially) out of practicality, so we wanted to ensure that we didn’t become too complicatedly entangled in case things went funny. So every two weeks, I recorded our expenses and listed our purchases (keeping receipts is essential to our system) and balanced them against one another. Since I was the better of us two at remembering stuff and figured out internet banking faster than he did, I paid the bills, so usually what ended up happening is I’d balance all of our receipts and bills against each other and he’d have to pay me whatever I was owed.

Thirteen years, a house, an inheritance, five cars and a baby later, we still operate on the same system. Sometimes I go “are you sure you want to keep going this way?” because it is admittedly a lot to manage and sometimes we slip up, but the answer is always yes. I think we believe that since we make quite different salaries, someone would feel slighted if we shared an account. Bad blood might arise, and this system we’ve got going now works and keeps things neutral.

Anyway, onto the point of this overlong post, which is to share my modest financial wisdom with those of you who might be looking for alternative ideas, or starting out in a new co-habitation situation, or on the brink of a large purchase or life change. Humour me. This is more about recording my ideas for my own future reference than for educating the masses, because I am hardly a banking wizard or a millionaire:

1. Live within your means. I mean duh, right? In stating the obvious here, I am thinking of those people who stretch themselves to live in a certain kind of house or drive a certain kind of car. I bought my house when I was 26. Would I have rather had a larger house with radiant floor heating and three bedrooms? Yes. Would I rather have had a large kitchen with a breakfast bar, a window seat and butcher block countertops? Yes. But we didn’t have the money for it, so we bought a house built in 1976 that cost us $112,000 and had a kitchen I like to refer to as “pirate-chic”. We capitalized on timing, meaning that the real estate market in our area boomed just after we bought (18 new houses have gone up on our road in the 9 years since we moved in) so we were able to get in while the getting was good. Also some bad experience to draw from: we drove crappy second-hand cars for years believing that they were cheaper overall. What we learned (and continue to learn) is that you really do get what you pay for with cars, and while they are initially cheaper, it’s not worth the stress and ongoing expense of constantly repairing a shitty old car. It’s just not worth it, so unless you are a mechanic, and have that kind of money and energy, it’s not within your means to buy an old jalopy. A good compromise is to buy a used car from a reputable dealer, as they’ve been vetted already. Our 2005 Vibe has so far given us zero hassle, apart from regular maintenance.

2. Keep an emergency fund. When we bought our house, hubby and I agreed that we’d keep the two-party financial system going BUT that we would get ourselves a savings account that is shared. That way we both have online access to it, and we set up an automatic deposit system so that on each of our paydays, an agreed-upon amount went automatically into the emergency account. And it racks up. This money was to be used for all things house-related, major purchases, emergency expenses and such. We also use it as a bounce-over account for when hubby pays me his balance owing every two weeks – he transfers it in and I transfer it to my account.

3. Double-pay where and when possible In 2008 when the markets crashed and the banks yanked the interest rates down, we were able to capitalize on our variable rate mortgage. Since our day-to-day salaries and expenses didn’t change, yet our mortgage went down to like 2%, we decided to start paying it as aggressively as possible, to get a leg up for the future. We approached the bank and asked if, in addition to making our payments bi-weekly, we could increase the amount paid. Turns out we couldn’t just bump up the amount BUT there was a little-used rule that said we could double-pay, meaning that each payment is mirrored every two weeks. It’s an easy way to do it because if the rates go up again, we don’t have to negotiate a lower payment amount, we just cancel the doubling. Our mortgage is so low (see the aforementioned note about the $112k house) that after two or three years of this double-paying, we are set to have it paid off within the next two years – 11 years after buying the house. Sometimes I feel badly for capitalizing on a bad situation (the collapse of the global financial markets) but personally, it has worked out fine so far, enabling us to pay a 25-year mortgage in 11 years.

4. Balance your savings against your debt This would also seem to be a no-brainer, but somehow I have a problem with it. Like, I have a Tax-Free Savings account racking up a not-very-impressive 2% interest, yet I keep spending on my line of credit which sits at 4% and WORSE, my credit card which is like 19%. There’s a mental leap to be made in using your savings to pay off your debts, but it makes zero (maybe less than) sense to keep paying 19% interest when you’re only making 2% on your savings. Better to be at zero overall I say. Zero savings, zero debt. Then avoid the credit for awhile so you can rack up your savings again.

5. Tuck money away into hidey holes. To amuse nobody but myself, I opened a savings account with a separate internet-based bank, and have been ferreting money away into it whenever I have a bit extra. (This works best in our two-party financial system, as it could otherwise raise trust issues). I don’t use it much, and I often forget I have it. I never check it, but sometimes I will delight myself by remembering it’s there and then looking and being surprised that hey, I have a couple of thou saved up and I didn’t even feel it. I buy Canada savings bonds through work and don’t feel that either, but they’re there, which I always forget until I get a statement in the mail. Now it’s a bad idea to REALLY forget these things, as they’re all a part of your overall portfolio and personal worth, but it’s good to have some places to hide money from yourself.

6. Maximize free opportunities to save Hubby’s work has this great system where they don’t have a pension plan per se, but they have a great really terrific (as in, how do I get a piece of that action?) group investment plan. They make crazy interest. It comes off of his paycheque in agreed-upon amounts, and all contributions (up to a certain amount) are matched by the company. So it’s relatively painful, doubles your original investment, and gets an awesome rate of return. His investments through this company in the ten years he’s been there have climbed just about as high or higher than my RRSP has, and I’ve had it at least 3 years longer, much of that time in a quote-unquote “aggressive” portfolio (read: they make more money off of me for some reason) through the VERY USELESS Investor’s Group. (I do not recommend Investor’s Group. Go with a bank, they’re much more reliable). As well, he has signed up for a cash-back Visa, which gives him 2% cash back on specific purchases. It carries a monthly (or annual?) fee, so he ensures that he A) pays his balance off right away, and B) spends enough on it that the cash he gets back more than covers the annual fee. So he’s winning and the credit card company’s losing, because he makes sure to pay it just in time to never pay interest. This is the relationship you want with your credit card, though you do have to be on top of it. I am not that good, I am sloppy with my card, racking up interest and then paying it off in bulk when I can.

7. Compartmentalize this is more of a mental trick than a financial tip. Hubby gets easily overwhelmed and will sometimes indicate that we can’t, for example, order a pizza for dinner because we just paid $700 for firewood or some kind of thing like that. I like to compartmentalize my spending into everyday small cash-type amounts and large purchases. As long as one doesn’t completely overshadow the other, I feel pretty comfortable ordering that pizza. It keeps me from feeling cheated.

8. Minimize bad investments Examples of bad investments include cars (though see above, sometimes you have to bite the bullet. Just know that it’s never a moneymaking venture), technology, RVs, and things like gardens and other ephemera which you might think raises your property value but in fact unless you’re selling your house, are just an expense. Not to say that you shouldn’t have one, just don’t go into it thinking you’re making an investment, because a crappy badly-maintained garden has less curb appeal that flat grass in my books. This is obviously a sore spot with me lately. Examples of good investments include bathroom renovations (for the same reason, only not), land, your house, and anything that will make you comfy in the future. I would say art for obvious reasons but so few people are aware of ins and outs of the re-sale market that the chances you will actually re-sell it someday on anywhere but ebay, or through some shuckster auctioneer, are slim unless you are a professional collector or very rich person.

9. Want to donate money, but you’re not that flush? Try Kiva (www.kiva.com). These are microloans, so while you might be out of pocket for a bit and you don’t get a tax receipt, the money is repaid in installments and you get to feel great knowing that you’ve helped, say, some poor Nicaraguan single mother put a new roof on her house. It also helps very much to put things in your own life into perspective.

10. Speaking of perspective, a friend of mine posted this link to his facebook page last week, in light of the recent “Occupy Wall Street” and copycat protest movements. It’s sobering. http://www.globalrichlist.com/

So there, I babbled for four pages about money and now I feel so cleansed that I’m gonna go out and treat myself and a good friend of mine to a fancy lunch. Food is never a bad investment. See? Compartmentalize!