Tag Archives: money

Pt 2

26 May

Let me be fair:  I am not putting the responsibility on my husband here.

I am upset with my own life, my own choices.

My diplomas hang in mockery on my wall.  So much hard work and nothing — NOTHING — to show for it.  Last year I had a taste of purpose as I sat in my office at Columbus State University, but that didn’t contribute much.  The $3000 a year earned there wasn’t enough to weigh in. Continue reading


Freedom of Choice

25 May

I’m scared to death of my husband spending a career in the military.  It makes me feel like I’m being suffocated, or snuffed out.  Eventually I won’t even exist any more except as Mrs. HD.  

Seven years ago I circled Manhattan in airplane while listening to Jeff Buckley on the plane’s radio station.  He regretted that his lover should’ve come over, and I brimmed with regret for living a thousand miles from a community I loved.  I prayed that the air traffic would send us all the way back to Atlanta instead of for one more loop over Long Island.  It took the wind of me to be so alone.  I didn’t live there long enough to really make friends. Continue reading


8 Apr

I cannot write.  I can’t think of a single thing worth writing about.  At least, nothing that is longer than a Facebook status update.

First I’m gonna make it, then I’m gonna break it till it falls apart.  Hating all the faking, I’m shaking while you’re breaking my brittle heart.

Young G is napping and I think about sleeping, but shouldn’t I do productive things while he sleeps? There is laundry to do right now. Wash, dry, fold, put away.  I also have a pot of beans to freeze.  “A bag of beans produces about 7 cups of cooked beans.”  This is one of the ways I work to save us money.  I feel like we earn so much, but at the end of the month there’s never anything left.  Because it all goes into savings.  Hundreds of dollars a month is put into savings and IRAs.  Every time HD groans about taking money out of savings we have to say, “that what it’s there for!”

We need to buy my plane ticket home.  I’m not looking forward to flying with an infant, because I’ll be going alone, and probably coming back alone, too.  The HD got his ticket through the Army since part of the trip will be at a conference.  He’s getting to go to more than one conference this year, too.  One is for forensics, and he’ll be gone over his birthday.  His thirtieth birthday! My boy’s growing up. The forensics course is special for the HD because he’s on a select team of forensic dentists here.  Then, over Memorial Day he’ll be in DC at a conference he was nominated for to represent junior medical officers to the joint chiefs, or something.  Finally, in July he’s going to New Orleans for another conference he received a nomination for to represent the Army at large.

None of these conferences include me.  I’m disappointed.  Part of the fun is getting to travel with your husband and stay at fancy hotels and swim in pools.  I’ve done that once, and it was great.  But now it’s too far to fly.  What about the baby? It’s not like we could go out in  the evenings.  It’s just easier if I stay here.  I’m scared that this is the beginning of Diminished Me.  Once the notorious socialite, now the unshowered mom who is freezing beans.

So I think maybe I’ll write more.  I’ve got to stop thinking I’m writing for an audience.  Audiences stifle me, I talk best when I talk to myself, or if I’m talking to you, of course.  Then, just as I think I’ll write more, I think of something else to do… Read a book! Crochet some little things! Start a home business! Find new friends!

There aren’t enough hours in the day to do things and I have no idea how to prioritize things on a list when they all have the same priority.  Nothing is really important when Young G is asleep.  He has what he needs, and nothing else matters.

Food, Words, and Love

25 Mar

Sometimes I think that simply by moving my blog to another site it will magically inspire me to write more.

I haven’t written regularly in a blog or journal since being married — three and a half years — and it is making me ache.  I am missing my own life, or forgetting it.

After my husband finished dental school and my personal income was reduced to a pittance, I fell away from budget-making.  I felt like I was only capable of keeping tabs on a pauper’s penny and not the Young Professional’s income.  My husband’s earnings were more than I had ever lived on in my life, and so my spending habits were not threatening our way of life by any means.   I had no trouble keeping our spending within limits.

Over time, though, our food budget began to skyrocket.  I was thrilled to stop squinting at the price-per-unit on every item, making sure I chose the absolute best can of tuna for my dollar.  I was thrilled to be able to make a menu, then a shopping list, and then choose fabulous ingredients from Whole Foods and other markets. All the while never studying prices.  This was such a luxury after years of living off the food-bank donations and sneaking into the cafeteria at college.  Though we weren’t eating saffron and caviar, there were many fine cheeses in my fridge.

Now we are a family of three.  Our infant son doesn’t take up much space or money, just a lot of time.  Cooking and shopping aren’t my number one priority every day, he is.  His food is all natural and straight from my body, which in turn makes my personal nutrition all the more important since it supports two lives.

Other bills have increased, too.  We pour money into savings right now, praying for a home to own and early retirement.  We live in Hawaii right now, too, where the cost of living is what you might expect for a mere 35-square-mile piece of land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, 2,000 miles from the nearest land-mass. Everything is over-priced here, exorbitantly, and we pay dearly for many things I purchased without thought in Charleston markets.

My goal is to reduce our grocery bill by half.  I am imposing this limit to challenge myself.  I also hope to find better products: organic, locally grown, un-processed, free-range, and natural ingredients for preparing meals from scratch.

I am not capable of making a complete overhaul of my habits to effectively accomplish this by next week, so I’m just going to make changes one at a time. As they come to me.  I expect to use my freezer a lot.

All I really want to do, though, is create: food, words, and love.