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Showing posts from February, 2016

Lessons Learned

Several years ago, Brother and his friends were at the local watering hole when they met an incredibly nice guy. He was from Myrtle Beach-- a place where we practically grew up. This guy had a large boat docked at Barefoot Landing. Brother got his cell phone number with the promise of a fishing trip next time we were up there.

NICE guy.

The guy loaded everyone up in his suburban for a "sober up" at Waffle House before depositing them back at Brother's house and heading off into the night.

The next day, Brother called Mom and told her all about this nice guy he met.

What was his name, you ask? Oh... it was Chris Stanko.

Not ringing a bell? How about I let you know his real name: Stephen Stanko.

The guy who murdered two people in Myrtle Beach, traveled to Hometown to hide in the masses, and was arrested two days later after a nationwide manhunt? Yeah... that guy.

And Brother had his cell phone number in his pocket.

He called Mom (he calls Mom a lot) and said something so p…

How'd we do?

No, I'm not going to post one of these at the end of every month-- but, until we get more of a system down-- yes, I am.

What I like, actually, what I love, are the phone calls, private messages, texts, and in person conversations in regards to these posts about money.

About DEBT.

Your words make me feel like I am setting an example and am holding me accountable. For that, I say thank you.

So- the question has been begged: How'd we do?

If we you were to ask me February 12 how we will fare the rest of the month? I would have probably used a few words that should not be used in good company.

February was a tough month. However, Husband asked a good question last week: Where did the money go? In those five simple words, we learned a very valuable lesson: Don't ask a question, unless you are prepared for an excel sheet with the answer. I spent some time over the weekend looking at our bank statements to see where the money went.

NOW-- if you ask me NOW, post excel sheets how we…

Dear Irene

Image
Dear Irene,

Dear, Dear, Irene...

Dear, Sweet, Dead Irene.

Dear Sweet Dead Great Great Irene,

Dear Irene,

First, I guess I should apologize. See, I found your portrait in my parent's attic a few weeks ago. You were there with your husband's portrait. Just in case you didn't know, he's dead, too. You look just like your niece, my grandmother-- as an FYI.



You and Herb were dusty and whoever you paid to do Herb's portrait, well, let's be honest-- you paid too much. He looked a little like Adolf in an American Colonel's uniform. Maybe Adolf didn't kill himself after all? Nah-- your husband was far too patriotic. At least, that's what I heard.

Why am I apologizing? You're out of the attic now and you survived the garage sale. Yes, I admit-- I tried to sell you. Does it count that there was no price tag on your glass? Leaning against the trash can in my parent's dew ladened grass that cold morning last Saturday, you stared at me all day long. Were …

How did we do?

Written at the end of January...
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Tomorrow is payday (Thank you, Sweet six pound baby infant Jesus). Husband sent me a text this morning reminding of this noted and celebrated day. As I sit and type, Bennie is playing hooky from school and we are at Chick Fil A, celebrating a mommy-daughter day. She's in the playroom with other kids, sliding and running around. It's cute to watch her.

So, the question begs-- How did we fare this first month of REDUCTION!... ?

How'd we do?

Pretty good.
Pretty darn good.

There were some expenses I had not planned on, things that I knew were coming but had simply forgotten. Registration for the upcoming school year for all three children (to the sweet tune of over $500) and the last installment of Birdie's summer camp tuition, to name the top two. If the camp makes you pay in installments, you know that I choked at the reminder!

We also went skiing-- we knew we were going as it was our Christmas presen…