A Penny Saved Is a Penny Earned

I was reading this article the other day about how to pinch the pennies. Here's what they suggest:

1. Rent a DVD instead of going to the movies once a month.


2. Do your own housecleaning and let the housekeep go.


3. Make your own bottle of wine instead of buy them.


4. Order in a pizza instead of eating out twice a month.


5. Start using your local library.


6. Have a home birthday party for the kids.


7. Switch to basic cable.


8. Make your coffee at home and take it in a Thermos.


9. Get your daughter a Girl Guide membership instead of the horse riding lessons.


10. Limit the use of bank machines.

This is the second or third magazine that I've come across with articles like this one and I have to say I think the suggestions are weak because it's all common sense. It's like reading a Sophie Kinsella book but instead of it being written as a comedy it's being written for reality. We have two friends who were laid off recently. I'm pretty sure they could come up with this stuff on their own. Anyone who has gone from two incomes to one has already thought most of this stuff up. Oprah has done a number of shows about money too. There was a women on her show recently who unplugged everything when she was done using it. (Like I'm going crawl on my hands and knees behind my dresser every morning to unplug my alarm clock and set the time again every night) There is a theme out there. We are in a recession but surely there must be more to be done.



Part of today's money problem is the access to credit and the required use of it. You can not park in downtown Calgary without a credit card. You can not buy anything online. You can not book a hotel or flight. Buy a cell phone. Get a land line. Order the newspaper or any service at that. You can't even go to my dentist without your credit card. You can't get a lot of things unless you have a credit card. Our society is set up to use your credit card.



Then there is the access to having one. Everywhere you turn you are offered a credit card and each one has different rewards connected to it. The university is covered in credit card companies the first week of school offering the newest and greatest plans. Every department store. Every football game. Every bank. There was a woman on Oprah the other day with 29 credit cards. Seriously?



Then there is the cutting back; which this article was referring to. We definitely live in a must have/I want/right now society. You can always ask yourselves do I need this or do I just want this. Put it on hold and think about it for a few days but to truly cut back depression style will require a bit more.

It got me thinking how did they do it in the depression. Well for starters if you didn't have the money you didn't get to buy; you could pull out your credit card to cover the excess. But really how did they do it?

They saved, reused and recycled everything. I read an article on the internet about flour sacks. In the 20's your flour came in a cloth sack. Once the sack was empty the cloth was used to make girls dresses. Apparently the flour companies began providing a wide range of prints to make their sacks so that the girls all had different prints on their dresses. I thought this was really cool, however it's not possible to do today (just try to make a dress out of a flour sack now... it is paper). The there is making the dress. If you go to the fabric store (which is pretty close to a monopoly in Canada) you will pay far more for the pattern (because making your own pattern is a lost art which got lost before my generation) and the material then you would to just buy the ready made outfit at the store.

My Dad (who did not grow up in the depression but who did live on a tight budget as a child) said when they were growing up they drank powdered milk, they made their own bread,they grew a garden, they didn't eat vegetables or fruit in the winter, they shopped for groceries on Sat. night when everything was discounted (because the store was closed on Sunday and things would go bad if they waited until Mon) and you would never buy paper towel or a magazine to tell you how to save money.

If I was going to write my own article... off the top of my head without thinking really hard but maybe harder than Rebecca Bloomwood...

1. Grow a garden. Freeze, can, preserve what you grow.
2. Hang a clothes line or get a small hanger thing to dry your clothes with air.
3. Change your own oil.
4. Trade and borrow things with friends. Like toys.
5. Buy second hand.
6. Start making things... like baking muffins, breads etc.

Surely these magazine writers can think a little harder because the truth of the matter is most people are looking for something a little more ground breaking then fire the house keeper.

It's Complicated

We were told it would happen.
We knew it would happen.
Now it has happened.

I'm feeling punched in the stomach.

I think we just were hopeful. On Tesla's last day of preschool we handed out cards to 3 of her favorite friends. They read "Tesla is moving and would like to stay in touch with you. Her new address is..." In my heart of hearts I knew this wouldn't pan out and it didn't. We haven't heard from any of these people since.

At Christmas time we sent out christmas letters with our new contact information.

Tonight we sat in our living room with the windows open listening to the birds sing. It is so peaceful. No dogs barking and cars moving. No neighbors. No airplanes. Peaceful. I like it. I like living here.

I don't like starting over. Which is sadly what I think we are doing.

We went to soccer tonight where there are a couple of familar faces. I went to Mom's and Tot's last week... also familar faces. But the truth is these mom's aren't my girls. They aren't the ones I talk to about nothing and everything. They aren't the ones I call nearest and dearest; who know all the things I would write on my secret blog (which has never been started but contemplated more times than I can count.) They aren't the ones who have helped me scrub my kitchen floor or told me off when I needed it. They aren't the ones who... well the list is too long. They just aren't my girls.

We cancelled our annual Christmas party this year. In the past we have invited our friends over for a potluck and gifting. We have always enjoyed it but this year it was too complicated so we decided we would have a housewarming party once we moved. The problem is no one can come. It's complicated. After getting decline after decline we decided to cancel the whole thing. We were disappointed.

The punch came tonight when our old small group changed venues. It probably felt like a punch because it happened so soon after the housewarming incident. We decided to see this group through until the end of the year. It contains many of our good friends. So every third week Karl stays in Calgary wasting a couple of hours until it starts, while I drive in with the girls. We have two vehicles in Calgary. We have PJ's. We have our component for the potluck supper. We have a great time and then we drive home; arriving close to 10 pm with two cranky girls. Don't get me wrong. We have made choices.

We were excited and delighted when this group suggested that we host the wrap up BBQ. Tonight the leader called to change venues because one of the families in our group won't come to our house. It's too far. It will be too late. PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH. All very good reasons, which I totally understand. Really I do. What could we say? No it has to be here. You have to make the same choices we make. We couldn't say that.

Here's what Karl had to say, "I'm not surprised. I kind of expected it. It would have been nice if someone else made the effort for once. I'm not sure I want to hang around the city for a couple of hours on a Friday night."

The familar faces said it would happen. Most of them have moved here in the last 3-5 years. They said people will come in the beginning. They said people will stop coming.

People have stopped coming. It's definitely slowing down. Is it true then? Are we really going to do this? Am I really going to have to start looking for replacements for my girls? Dare I ask... are they replaceable? NOT ON YOUR LIFE but...

We do have to do something. Tesla is feeling it. We are feeling it. We invite people but they can't come. We've offered to meet people half way, at their house, at a common place... some are still checking their calendars. But the fact of the matter is we can't always be driving to Calgary and our friends can't always be driving to our house. If we have 15 friends and go to each of their houses once that is 15 trips we make to the city. If they all come to our house once that is one trip for each of them to make but we can't always expect people to come here. It's a problem!

Those Lazy Summer Days

I took my first swimming lesson when I was 9 years old. This marked the beginning of some very enjoyable summer memories. Every weekday morning my brothers and I would join our friends (another family with 3 kids) on the grass beside the pool. We would sit there in the sun playing with our mothers talking in the background. Every half hour someone new would come out of the pool and someone else would leave for their lesson. I don't think any of us were in the same lesson so we spend hours at the pool waiting our turn. It was fun. It was perfect. You were either excited about cooling off in the pool after waiting in the hot morning sun or warming up under the sun as you dried off. Once that round of lessons were done we would sign up for the next one. It cost $10 for two weeks of lessons.

We spent two summers following this routine. It was the third summer that it all fell apart. I was 11. This was the summer that our friends decided not to take swimming lessons. This was the summer that my instructor was 14. This was the summer when I started being self-conscience in a bathing suit. And this was the summer I decided to hide my bathing suit so I wouldn't have to go. I was actually a pretty good swimmer but I had started too late. I couldn't get past my perceived embarrassment of being 11 in a class with a bunch of 8 and 9 year olds and a 14 year old instructor. Finally, without our friends it was just boring waiting. That was the last round of swimming lessons for me and my brothers.

Now my girls are taking swimming lessons. They are considerable younger and that is OK. They won't be 9 wearing water wings. They might even have a chance to become lifeguards one day; which is a great summer job if you're a teenager.

Everything is changed. Most pools are indoor now. They have warmer water and you're not exposed to the elements. Lessons are year round so we all sign our kids up at different times of the year. I don't have friends to visit with during lessons. I almost had Tesla signed up with a friend but they had to cancel at the last minute. Even if we were all signed up for the same set of week of lessons, I don't think people are willing to sit around all morning on the hard chairs or bleachers that are provided at the indoor pools. And if were at an outdoor pool I don't think people would sit and sunbathe all morning at the grassy edge; there are too many skin cancer concerns. Of all my friends only one still embraces those lazy summer days. Her kids only do swimming in the summer; every morning; all summer; at the outdoor pool across the street. I kind of envy her. While the rest of us are stuck on a hard chair at the edge of some pool, surrounded by complete strangers, she is sitting on the grass with her kids playing beside her. She is enjoying the sun and the company of a neighbour. It's great for her. It's great for her kids and it's great for her community.

Please, want to!

We were driving through Olds the other day and Anna suddenly said "McDonald's. Chicken. Please, want to." While I am slightly embarrassed that my two year old is so familar with McDonald's my heart is rejoicing at hearing her put so many words together with such clear intentions.

When Anna was a year old I took her for her annual check up at the doctors. These visits always start with some measuring of weight, height and head circumference. Then the doctor comes in and listens to her heart and lungs. She looks in her ears and mouth; checks her hips and organs. Finally, the doctor asks a series of developmental questions. It was on this first year visit that the alarms started.

"Does she respond to her name? Does she come when you call her from another room? Can she follow a simple direction?" No, No and NO! No Anna didn't do any of these things. She didn't cry at sudden loud noises. She never responded to her name and especially didn't come when you called her from a different room. Once in a while she would dance to loud music but really. Sleeping through loud noises? This is the first time that concern was raised about one of our girls. We left with a referral to have her hearing tested.

As I drove home I start picturing my sweet little girl with outragously big hearing aids. I could see her in school trying to follow along. The teacher has a headset and microphone attached that feed directly into her hearing aids. The really large ones that the kids make fun of. And in my mind my sweet little girls is sad and lonely and confused about being different. And my heart is breaking just thinking about it; wanting to protect her. At the same time I am rallying the troops in my head to be as supportive as we can.

The waiting is super hard. Poor Anna. We called her name and called her name and called her name... trying to get her to respond. I searched the internet looking for reasons kids don't respond to their name. The internet can be so bad at times... Autism. Autism. I thought I was going to be sick. And there were check lists for that to. Which I went through and got mixed messages. I watched videos of autistic kids at 1 years old and listened to the commentary about what to look for. And finally we got the appointment.

She passed with flying colours! She could hear! They were sure. Absolutely sure. But...

She didn't respond to her name for the audiologist, who got a little bit pale after the third attempt. Then said "Well, if she doesn't start responding to her name by 18 months you should get her checked for cognitive delays." Which means autism.

So a year later when Anna says "please want to" (even for McDonalds) or tells us knock knock jokes (that truly aren't funny) or draws happy faces (that are sideways) and pulls off her diapers (when they are full), I am mostly just pleased that she is getting all of this and getting it so well.

Happy Mother's Day Mom

My Mom wrote this a long time ago and it's been sitting in my in box ever since. I thought it was neat so I'm sharing it with you.

My full name is Donelda Louise ... (nee Midgett) at this time, as I am married to ............
I have always like my name!
As far as I know I am not named after any relatives or friends.
I understand Donelda is of Scottish descent. That makes sense as my mom Effie Lavina Midgett (nee ...) has Scottish ancestors.
I am glad my parents spelled Donelda with an "e" in the middle. I've always felt relieved: it wasn't Donald (like the boys name) with an "a" added on. Don "e" lda sounds softer and more feminine in my mind.
I have known acquaintances and had friends with the first name Louise. I've like all of them so it just makes my middle name more favorable. I feel Donelda Louise runs together smoothly too and that pleases me.
My maiden name Midgett sometimes caused a few laughs and a bit of teasing. Men and women in my immediate family are large boned-- as termed by other people. My grandmother, Midgett, was six feet or taller. All the men are also six feet tall or more. Most of the men have large tummies too.
My mother though barely made five feet so marrying Clyde Midgett made her height a tad comical.
I guess another reason I so like my name is it is unusual. I was the only Donelda (spelled anyway) in the whole of the Yukon Territory, Canada as I grew up. I have never had anyone criticize it.
Only twice in my life have I got angry with someone about their mistreatment of it (Donelda).
A) a family friend thought he should shorten it to Don. I replied that's like a guy --- No Way. Well, then make it Dawn like the morning he said. I said No Way -- that's totally changing it. He then in his sense of being funny said Make it Donkey. I was instantly mad and said That's what you are and walked away. He apologized profusely and tried everything to make up for his terrible mistake (for days he almost begged). Our friendship was never as close after that. He remained a family friend for years.
B) Another male family friend entered our home and called me Donel -- ie one day. I told him he knew my name and should use it properly. The next time he called me Donel--ie I got mad and said I won't respond to you unless you call me properly. He couldn't believe I would be so stubborn. If I remember right I won that battle quickly; he didn't like not being acknowledged. I have fond memories of other experiences our families shared together and he was always there -- still respected.
Once during my teen years I dated a fellow that shortened my name to Del. It think that lasted three days. I couldn't figure out where he got Del from. I don't remember any negative reaction to him using it but have a sense I was glad he went back to Donelda.
I love how my Aunt Mary says my name, Donelda. I don't know if its the placed emphasis on the syllables, the softness of her voice (which is very similar to my Grandma--her mom) or her Texas drawl. I wish we didn't live so far apart or phoned more often. If we did I'd hear her say it to my delight.
I was twenty four years old, married with children here in .....before I ever heard my name,........ called out for someone else. I was just entering a drug-store with one or two of my children. Someone inside yelled Don a lda --get out of There...in fear. I knew they didn't know me and I knew I wasn't in danger. I asked the cashier for an explanation. Don a lda was an employee bent down on one side of the shelving unit. Another employee on the other side of the shelving unit was up on a step stool stocking the top shelf. Something she did caused stuff to fall off and probably land on Don a lda. The yelling was to warn her not me. I knew this Don a lda as an employee of the store for years.
I have never know any other Don a lda's but have been told of a few.
I know of no one else who spells it with and e. Donelda
I have always liked my full name! Donelda Louise ... (nee Midgett).