I was twenty-three when I bought my first home. If you’ve ever bought a home, you know the feeling, the rush of accomplishment holding the keys to the American dream in your hand. Ahhh, a home of my very own – in another thirty years, of course. I couldn’t believe my luck, er – hard work. Naturally I did none of this home buying the Dave Ramsey way. Paid nothing down because I was twenty-three and making entry-level salary at a private not-for-profit liberal arts college, but hey, my monthly mortgage was going to be slightly more than what I had been paying in rent, so it made sense. Plus for the first time I’d have no roommates. The American dream, folks. Can you dig it? Continue reading “The Keys to the American Dream”
Sitting in my full-length faux fur-lined leather coat eating ramen noodles by myself, I decided my time window shopping at expensive shopping malls had sadly come to an end. (If you missed my previous post about the leather coat the Devil bought me, you can read it here.) Just as one doesn’t like to cut any enjoyable activity off cold turkey, I opted to step down to an alternate plan. Thus began my addiction with antique malls and flea markets. It was easy to get lost in the aisles of junk without the temptation of high dollar items. Of course, there was the occasional rabbit fur coat to temp the senses, but most items at flea markets are easier on the pocketbook. Continue reading “No More Window Shopping – Or Something Like That”
The first time I danced with the Devil I was seventeen years old. He showed up in the mail all shiny and new. Chase bank had heard I’d been accepted to college and knew – just knew – I’d need a shiny, plastic friend to help me adjust to college life. I opened the envelope, the excitement already building. Cha-ching! They’d given me a $500 credit line! I felt like I’d hit the jackpot. After a bit of discussion, my parents and I decided it was probably good to begin building my credit, and for, you know, emergencies and such. And so with the peeling of that sticker and signing of my name began my dalliance with debt. As I slid my new buddy into my pocketbook, I whispered, “Oh, the places we’ll go together.” Continue reading “The Leather Coat the Devil Bought Me”
Life can feel like a roller coaster at times. Some days are all sunshine and rainbows, and other days tornados and flash floods. It can feel difficult to get a grip when we’re riding the roller coaster, holding on for dear life, hoping our seat belt will hold out. Often times we let our happiness get caught up in the roller coaster. We place it in that little mesh pocket with our belongings hoping it will remain secure while we ride the hills and loops. And when the coaster takes a really crazy turn, we feel like we’re going to lose it. Continue reading “Unexpected Detours and Rainbows”
“You’re awesome, Dad!” our three-year-old exclaimed in Subway the other day as she hugged my husband tight. We looked at each other and smiled.
“You’re awesome, sweetie!” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.
“That’s a good daughter,” commented the Subway employee as he swept the floor.
“Yep. She sure is,” my husband replied still smiling at me. Continue reading “The Busted up Boots of an Everyday Hero”
There’s something about scars. We try to hide them, hope others don’t see them. There’s all kinds of makeup on the market to hide our physical imperfections. We modify images to make them appear perfect, free of flaws. It’s as if somehow our scars have damaged us, as if we’re now less than perfect.
And then there’s the scars you can’t see on the outside, the scars we carry within. We somehow feel we need to bury them deep down where nobody can find them, keep them hidden. Then we can go on about our lives carrying on like all is well. The problem is, if wounds are not given air, properly treated and allowed to heal, they fester and cause infection. Continue reading “Never Be Ashamed of Your Scars – They’re Proof of Your Strength”
Transitioning from being a working mom to a stay-at-home mom has been an enlightening move. Something I quickly learned is there’s no-one to tell me whether I’m doing a good “job” anymore. It’s nothing like the workplace where you can pretty much get immediate feedback or results from whatever method you tried. Oh, yeah, that formula worked, or nope, try something else. It’s been a bit of a transition from the full-time workforce to home life. Continue reading “Performance Appraisals of a Stay-at-Home Mom”