About sixteen years ago, I met him for the first time. My trainwreck sibling brought home this adorable puppy he had no business adopting because he had not one thing in his life that wasn’t a mess. I was furious at my sibling – he didn’t even take care of himself, how could he drag
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September 28, 2016
Money Blogger’s First FinCon!
Y’all. I haven’t shown my face publicly as a money blogger in ten years. Plus, I’m an introvert. FinCon16 seems like a Pretty Bad Idea for a pseudonymous blogger. But it also sounded like an awful lot of fun and so, with some persuading, the 6th annual year of the PTMoney FinCon was my year.
I met so many people and didn’t want to depart with haste, not even once. Oh wait, I did, once but that was just from one session.
The thing about FOMO
When I finally got off the hotel shuttle and walked into the hotel, I barely suppressed the urge to raise my arms and bellow “TO ME, MY MONEY NERDS”. Only the knowledge that going all Professor X on the half empty lobby might end the fun Very Quickly stopped me.
Friends on Twitter were feeling the FOMO well before we left, and it’s certain that if I weren’t a veteran of SDCC and ECCC (comic cons, my other love), that feeling could have ruined the trip from the get-go. Heck, I was Right There, and by arriving late in the day, I was already missing out on all the Wednesday activities – the Experian dim sum lunch, the chance to meet and chat with people before the conference madness started.
The reality is missing out isn’t a risk, it’s a certainty. Even while on site, I was missing out because there was just simply no way I’d make it to every session, meet every person I wanted to meet, and achieve All The Things. For example, I almost got to say hi to Tonya of Budget and the Beach but she was moving too quickly, I never found Kathleen Celmins of Frugal Portland, Mr. 1500 Days was only identifiable on the first day in a sheep tee, and those are just the few that my sleep-deprived brain can recall right now.
The only sure thing about my health is I can never accurately predict if I’d be physically up to it. As my dear friend Abby knows only too well, chronic fatigue is an unpredictable, abusive drunk that can attack you at any time, without rhyme or reason.
Thankfully, a long history with SDCC has taught me that it’s not worth agonizing over that which you can’t do – enjoy the moment you’re in.
Hugging the stuffing out of old friends
I wasn’t prepared with a list of people that I wanted to meet but I tweeted reminders to myself each day to keep myself from going full-introvert and social-avoidance. It’s been too long since I saw Lazy Man and Money or J.Money. I just met Athena in person this trip, but I’ve been her sounding board for so long that I’d forgotten we’d never met. Thanks to Abby of I Pick Up Pennies, Donna Freedman of Surviving and Thriving, and Crystal of Budgeting in the Fun Stuff, I had introductions to a plethora of people and made some wonderful new friends.
If you’re an introvert, I highly recommend getting adopted into an extrovert’s clan. Riding that extrovert’s wake makes a huge difference in whether you hide in a corner and pretend that plant is fascinating, or have an awesome Saturday ooohing over JD Roth’s puppy videos, and Pauline’s Great Dane.
Also, they’re way better at making introductions to others when my response to “Hi, I’m [Blogger you read].” was a halting “Hi! I’m .. uh … oh. What name do I use?”
Luckily, Joe Taxpayer, Maria Nedeva, Sarah Li Cain, Ms. ONL, Cait Flanders, Femme Frugality, Jessica Moorhouse, and Emma Lincoln were kind souls who didn’t hold it against me.
Highlights …
The best thing I did was have friends who understood my limitations existed and helped me stay engaged without pressure.
The best thing I did before coming was spending years forming deep friendships with people. Who knew that would make this meeting thing so much better?
My favorite quest was Abby’s and my quest to find a water bottle. She had lost hers, and I’d forgotten to bring mine, so we swept the Expo Hall in search of the perfect replacement bottle. In the process, we collected some other fun, decent quality, swag: a beach mat, Vanguard’s fantastic zippered tote, an insulated thermos small enough for PiC’s coffee when we road trip, an insulated tote that’ll be great when we picnic, a Swagbucks gift card, and a handful of unbelievably soft t-shirts. I’d sworn off collecting any more t-shirts but these were like cloud puffs. They had to come with me. JuggerBaby’s favorites were all from Donna’s picks: a squishy blue pig, a blow-up beach ball, the emoji plushes. PiC also loved the running socks I snagged for him. All useful things!
The best surprise was winning $500 in the PennyHoarder social media giveaway! I’d been concerned about the cost of the trip since AGSL hasn’t been generating income this year and this was an awesome offset.
The best unexpected edit to my agenda was that PiC braved TWO solo flights with JuggerBaby so that they could join me and have a birthweek dinner together.
My favorite session was a tie between the FIRE talk and Grant Baldwin’s talk on booking speaking gigs (which, if you know me, is the opposite of what I’d be interested in). The former was just interesting chatter about how the panelists choose to live their FIRE lives, the latter was clear, great actionable information, and persuasive.
I’ve been going to San Diego for over ten years, but I loved seeing it through the eyes of other non-Californian bloggers. Everyone had a sunset photo!
…and lowlights
The grossest moment was that jerk security guard working for the hotel accosting me to say that if I ate that cupcake I was holding it would ruin my figure.
The second worst moment was understanding that I wasn’t the only one who had to hear unsolicited comments about our appearance. Other attendees commiserated with their reports of harassment after I vented my frustration on Twitter.
This shouldn’t be something we have to deal with.
In the words of Monty Python, “it got better.” I made an official report, PT Money and Jessica Bufkin (the event organizer) dealt with it, and though the hotel’s handling of the situation is purely crap, I am satisfied that FinCon doesn’t sweep the harassment of their attendees under the rug. Next step: heading it off before it happens.
Last, the final keynote speaker was bad. For a minute I wasn’t going to discuss that but if not here, then where?
The speaker sent an interminable period bragging about how he’s rich and oh by the way, SO rich. He was so over I was convinced it was some absurdist parody, but it wasn’t.
I walked into a business conference, and walked out of a frat house presided over by an entitled pontificating Frat Bro bragging on how he’s rich and had sex in the company bathroom. Such business. Very class. Wow.
The key points he made that would have been useful were:
- making it as an entrepreneur takes time, work, and many failed attempts to pay off,
- winning the lotto isn’t the way to get rich,
- there was probably a third but it was lost in the grandstanding.
The point he really made was: When you have enough money, you can do and say anything you want. Remind you of any particular unqualified political candidate?
He clearly had some fans, particularly when he started flashing cash and stuffing it down the shift of his attendee helper, perhaps signalling the shift from a frat house to a strip club, but there were plenty of quietly disgusted attendees later on as well.
The money part
Airfare, $600
I planned for my flight, but then PiC and JuggerBaby flew down too! For a limited time, JuggerBaby is free as a lap infant. Boy howdy is it going to be painful to start paying for a 3rd seat always.
Dog boarding, $150
It was just too much for PiC to manage all of Seamus’s medications and supplements while chasing a child so he was better off taking a short vacation with our sitter. He got to run with the pack, and cuddle with a puppy, so you know he wasn’t missing us at all. And the sitter is great – she does all his medications, takes them for hikes, and washed his bedding for us!
Hotel, $760
I originally agonized over the decision to have a single room to myself but it was the right call, not least because of my surprise visitors, but also because I needed a bit of quiet decompression time each night. Which isn’t to say that my FinCon buddies wouldn’t have been good roommates, but sometimes you just need to be alone.
Also! I signed up for the SPG Double-Triple your points promotion just before we went, and opted for the Green Choice program, so my 4-night stay netted around 5000 SPG points.
Transportation, $75
The shuttle to and from the hotel was free for all of us. Free and they were pretty good – I didn’t fear for my safety going to and from.
We walked to the restaurant for dinner the one night we all went out together and to the deli for lunch but that was about it for accessible dining. We had to catch cabs or Uber to and from the Gaslamp.
We had to park at the airport at the other end (darn car seats!) and after a coupon, the cost was around $40. Coupons for airport parking, who knew? And before you ask, yes, I absolutely checked for cash back rebates on top of that but there wasn’t a stackable deal. Had to try!
Food, $100
I picked up some provisions, transport kindly provided by Abby, at the local grocery store but I should have grabbed more. Breakfast provided by the conference each morning was hit or miss. Each day, the provisions were fewer and ran out faster. As Ms ONL noted it was noticeably beige food: carbs, carbs, more carbs. I was hankering for some protein and roughable but it wasn’t happening at breakfast.
FinCon provided tickets for food truck lunch on our first day. Abby wisely insisted that we hit the lunch trucks first before the place filled up. To absolutely no one’s surprise, I had the BAT (bacon, arugula, tomato) grilled cheese sandwich. Bacon and tomato? I’m there. Tomatoes and greens? Taste bud heaven. I was so full that I had to pass on the Vanguard cupcakes that day. (Not the next day, though!)
As a birthday treat from Crystal, we had In’n’Out burgers for lunch the next day. Then it was all about the Mexican food: awesome chips and salsa to go with our carnitas for my birthday dinner, and enormous burritos on Friday night across the street from the Ignite event. I missed some hosted Happy Hours, unfortunately, let’s pretend the nibbles there weren’t amazing.
We need a suite with a kitchen so we can throw together some healthy meals. Too bad we couldn’t book out an enormous Residence Inn and host family style meals. Cooking for small scale groups is bonding, right?
TOTAL, $1685
FinCon17: Dallas?
As much fun as I had this year, this is too expensive a conference to attend two years in a row without business goals in mind and business income to cover it.
San Diego is on the same coast and our bill was a whopper.
I did pick up a badge during the Flash Sale but that’s no guarantee of my attendance.
At a minimum, the flight and hotel have to be booked on miles and points if AGSL isn’t earning enough to send me out. Say it isn’t, then I have about 7-9 months to amass enough points and miles to book in time, assuming our other travel commitments don’t eat into the stash.
I have to be able to take 5-6 days off work to travel as well. I’m still swamped under a mountain of work and the outlook isn’t good for the next six weeks. That’s got to change, or I might collapse under thousands of emails!
Making Connections
A great point that Ms. ONL made was that a huge part of this blogging conference was meeting people. Whether just socially, or for specific mentoring, we grow, strengthen and deepen our relationships when we spend time with each other. Even for an introvert, this was a wholly enjoyable event because of the socializing, not in spite of it, and that’s saying something!
Not everyone can spend this kind of money or effort to attend, though – it’s a lot of money and a lot of time. Heck, obviously I’m not sure if we’ll be able to repeat the experience, Dallas-style, but I’m taking steps to making it happen.
:: How do you make and maintain connections to your people? Who are your people? Would you be interested in attending FinCon, as a blogger or a reader?
September 26, 2016
Maybe not all of them are unhinged but these soundbites from startup founders in a survey where they answered questions about their finances sure make them sound like it. I noted that only 6 of the respondents were women so it’s likely there’s some sort of self selection bias going on there.
“Don’t save for retirement. That’s like betting you’ll fail.”
The complete logic fail here is astounding. It assumes that the only success will leave you so wealthy as to have your retirement secured. It ignores the fact that you might succeed but only modestly so, or that you might have more expenses in retirement than a buyout could cover, or that you might succeed but not ever be bought out. Running a business doesn’t always end in being acquired for billions. It also links the act of saving to actively betting against yourself which doesn’t make any sense at all. I have supreme confidence in myself and my success but you betcha I save for retirement because I want one, and I don’t control everything around me.
“You can’t save your way to being wealthy.”
Yes, you can. You could also, if you were really savvy, probably spend (invest) your way to being wealthy. Refusing to do one or the other if you have the opportunity to simply because it’s not the quick and easy way is pretty shortsighted.
“Bet on yourself rather than on external investments (housing, stock market, etc.).”
We all know that’s not an either/or proposition, don’t we? Of course one of our biggest assets is our ability to earn. But that shouldn’t be your only asset if you have a choice about it.
Does this founder also put everything on red and let it ride? Because betting solely on yourself as a single asset and refusing to diversify is pointblank stupid. What happens if you’re killed or crippled in an accident? What if you’re struck by a chronic disease that severely limits your ability to function? What if a dependent family member falls ill and needs full time or long term care?
I don’t pose these as unlikely hypothetical scenarios just to be contrary. All of them have happened to us or a family member.
Other bad advice
That got me thinking about times in my life when I was given pretty bad advice and was chided for being too stubborn to heed it.
I did listen to good advice, I wasn’t immune to all advice, but some of these were just too much.
“Maybe he’s just being nice.”
When a manipulative abusive boss tried to give me cash for a vacation.
No, he was never just being nice. He wanted to buy loyalty for petty change and the loyalty he wanted was unreasonable and unprofessional. You know what I’m talking about.
“You should have kids when you’re young and have energy”
A cousin 12 years my elder pressed me on this point when I was 21 and definitely unprepared for marriage, much less kids. To my family, who expects to see us married by 24 at the latest, it was looking like I’d spend all my time working and never getting married and having kids. The joke was on her, apparently. 8 years later she said, ok, yeah, you should enjoy your life while you can.
Thank you, I believe I will.
Yes, there are times I wished I had JuggerBaby earlier so Mom would have met and enjoyed zir too. But that’s one tiny fraction of the entirety of our lives that I enjoy so much: having amazing flexibility and autonomy in my job, being financially stable, having a solid marriage and partnership, these things would be missing from the equation. Only their fledging counterparts would have been there: paying down debt, managing my health, and growing my career would have been so much harder and would have meant I’d miss so much more of JuggerBaby’s life. We were late to having a kid but because of it, I’ve been lucky enough to enjoy so much of zir growing up. (May we always have this stability and flexibility.)
To be fair to her, it wasn’t objectively a terrible bit of advice. It was just a bad idea to suggest that I should model my life on everyone else’s. I prefer to aim for a little more extraordinary, and that doesn’t fit the safe cookiecutter lives they encourage.
::What bad life advice have you gotten? What’s the best advice you’ve gotten or given? How have you strayed from the expected path?
September 21, 2016
We dubbed him Seamus in the first, rough, weeks of his homecoming, a play on “Shamey-y”.
I can’t be more grateful that we weathered those days, welcoming him even when he broke almost every rule trying to learn the ropes, even when we had a baby on the way and weren’t sure how it would all happen.
From the moment he met JuggerBaby, the squirmy little bundle of noise and mess, with interest and hope, he’s been a trooper, the saintly dog you’d always hope for in just such a circumstance.
Life with DOG!
JuggerBaby and Seamus have a curious sibling relationship. You’d think they didn’t care whether the other existed, until you made the mistake of raising your voice or provoking screeches (which, to be fair, is really easy to do for a toddler of JuggerBaby’s age). Seamus would quietly insert himself into the room and check on everyone, clearly concerned that ze would survive the day, and leave just as quietly when it was clear no one was a casualty.
Likewise, you’d think JuggerBaby was kind of a jerk the way ze petted him like he was a first class drum set, until you notice that zir carefully leaning in to give him Mmmmwah! kisses, before and after overenthusiastic pets. And woe betide you if he looks bored and ze knows where the Chuck-its are hidden. Like an extension of Seamus’s will, ze unearths the toys, presents it to you with a demand: BA!! and points at zir brother. Throw that thing, parent, and do it now! He’s bored! And soon after, carrots! Ze pulls them out and points insistently, EY! Give him treats!
As part of my weekly grocery shop, I prep packs of carrot sticks for Seamus. They sit sit together on the floor, box of carrot sticks clutched in JuggerBaby’s still chubby fist, staring at me for permission to hand them over, one by one. Once in a while JB’s enthusiasm brims over and ze offers him the entire container. He’s no fool, he looks at me for the nod. Even when ze dumps the entire box on the floor in front of him, he waits for the nod before reaching for any.
We do bedtime together, he lays at our feet while we read bedtime stories and sing bedtime songs, then he and I decamp to the living room for his care: brushing teeth, pedicure, cream for his itchy and raw skin. He lays his head on my knee and naps for a while, before his last nighttime stroll with PiC.
Medical woes
His weight has stabilized, he’s lost much of that sympathy pregnancy weight, but he has had a rough road.
He’s had an ulcerated eye, twice.
JuggerBaby nearly poisoned him (maybe).
His skin looks worlds better than it did when he first came home but he still breaks out into hot spots so I’m always on alert for any new trouble areas. Twice a year it gets bad enough for the heavy hitting meds. They’re effective but we don’t want him on steroids more than 20 days a year, they aren’t great for his organs, so I aggressively treat all flare-ups to keep them from progressing past hot spots.
He’s had an endless stream of infections. They crop up when he gets scraped up playing too enthusiastically and sometimes just because it’s fun to make me jump. I’m his on-call emergency medic, always carrying a full kit of topical antibiotics, ointments, bandages and gauze.
We make it through each one because he’s generally an astoundingly good patient, for a dog who surely doesn’t understand why I’m making him lay still while I poke and prod his painful parts, and our vet is good about working with me in filling the appropriate medications when we need them instead of making me bring him in for an exam every time. This saves us anywhere from $200-500 a year.
A Dog and Our Money
I’ve been using the saved proceeds from the blog to pay for his numerous medical needs. Unfortunately, since this isn’t a cash cow, we’ll need another way to fund his care soon.
We can cashflow his food, supplements, the occasional toy, and any other gear a good pup needs out of our regular income.
I do most routine maintenance at home for the cost of materials: war cleaning, nail clipping, pilling, first aid. These could all add to the price tag but luckily I enjoy animal husbandry.
We’d love a companion pup for him, he does best when he has appropriate canine company, but I’m not sure we can take on Number Three any time soon. It’s nearly as much work as a kid in a lot of ways and the costs pile up quickly if you’re not careful.
And another pup would make travel even more expensive. When we go on vacation, so does he. Turns out all the dog sitting I did as a favor to friends back in the day, because I knew I’d appreciate it if I needed the same? Well, there is no dogsitting karma. Nor is there babysitting karma.
Please, keep reminding me of that, because I might still lose my head and adopt another senior dog one day.
:: Are you a dog / cat / other animal person? What makes them great?
September 14, 2016
My Little Dobby
This child cannot be convinced of the one sock & one shoe per foot rule. Ze is constantly asking me to add another shoe on top of the one ze is already wearing. The best we can do is layer socks, though, and ze has stolen several pairs of socks from me so as to better mix and match zir footwear.
Transitions and weanings
It’s occurred to me that, despite my worries about never managing it or fighting over each step, our several weanings, off the bottle, off pre-sleep milk, and fuss-free naps ended up going much smoother than I’d been led to expect.
At daycare pickup one day, I overheard a parent telling the teacher: yeah he’s still on bottles. His doctor would kill us if she knew but it’s just easier! The kid was two years old, at least, and was running around with a bottle clenched in his teeth. I think I let that, and JuggerBaby’s general stubbornness, get in my head.
Looking back, though, it really didn’t suck. One day I realized that no part of me wanted to be dealing with bottles, bottle brushes, or any of that nonsense on our travel in 2016. In the Spring I decided we were doing it. Ze had been using a sippy cup for water already, so I started offering both milk and water in sippy cups during the days with meals. After a few days, since ze didn’t seem to care much, I offered the milk in a sippy cup for pre-nap fill-up. The first time I did that, I got Such A Look. Ze firmly pushed it away. It took three tries for zir to convince me that this was not happening. Fine. I switched to the bottle and ze sucked down the milk contentedly.
But the next time, I offered the sippy again. Ze considered it, and decided that yes, ok, this was acceptable. And so for about four days, ze only got milk in a bottle before bedtime. Otherwise, it was all sippies.
By the end of the week, because ze was eating so well and drinking plenty of milk at dinner, I changed it up again and gave zir a water sippy cup at bedtime. This changeover was accepted with equanimity, as long as there was something to occupy zir hands and mouth while we read bedtime stories, zir full belly didn’t care if it was milk.
This was strategic: zir teeth were coming in and I didn’t want zir to be so in the habit of having milk right before bed that those teeth rotted out of zir head before permanents come in. (#ParentingHorrorStories)
Naturally, it was time to introduce a few new habits since ze was going so well! We used to let zir nurse or get milk drunk before naps, now I’d give zir a sippy, change zir diaper and started rocking zir on my shoulder for a couple minutes with a song. Same song, every time.
Sooner than even I anticipated, ze absorbed what I was hoping to ingrain, and that was if I’m holding you and singing, it’s time to nap. Within a couple weeks I was able to stop giving nap sippies and ze responded very positively to the Pavlovian signal of being picked up, patted on the back and sung to. This is a kid who normally pops up like a jackrabbit the second you lay zir head on your shoulder – no way was ze going to miss any action! Now, unless ze is overtired, if you scoop zir up at the right time and start singing, plop! Zir head goes down on your shoulder. It’s a pretty reliable signal – if ze isn’t ready to sleep at all, ze stays head up and alert. Mostly we’ve finally gotten the timing right.
Sometimes we get it very wrong and even just suggesting that we’re going to pick zir up sets off a wail and collapse to the floor like you cut zir strings. That’s when you’re unforgiveably overdue and zir heart is broken. Broken, I tell you!!
We’re getting better at avoiding that, too.
Most days, the transfer from shoulder to crib is smooth. Tuck zir in, ze hugs a plushie or kitten-pounces a blanket and folds over on zir side. There’s not a lot of the popping back up to stare at you accusingly like in days of yore. I thought we’d NEVER get a baby that would sleep like a reasonable human, but nowadays ze just mumbles to zirself for a while and then passes out.
I don’t know what’ll happen when it’s time to free the creature from zir cage, though. Ze is already outgrowing zir crib and I dread giving zir the freedom of crawling out of bed to play. It’s almost inevitable. Because of how we sleep trained zir, the school of drop off and run, there’s no staying by zir side til ze sleeps, that would be an undeniable invitation to play. How much worse will be once we remove the crib door?
We’ll see. That’s a fight for another day. I’m just going to be grateful that these transitions went as well as they did. It was anyone’s guess how ze would take losing bottle privileges or pre-nap milk top-ups, and so the next step is a mystery too. Unless I can dig up some kind of trial run to ease zir into the idea of sleeping voluntarily when not caged in a crib, or perhaps devise a netted dome situation. Or a stationary human baby hamster ball.
Things we are loving
Since our transition off bottles, and the arrival of teeth, we’ve been fighting a losing battle against JuggerBaby’s biting and shaking of sippy cups. The standard Munchkin sippy cups with straws and biteproof / leakproof cups were no proof against the chompers. Everything leaked or dripped after ze had zir way with it. Since ze also knows how to drink from a cup, I hunted down our latest aquisitions, the Munchkin Miracle 360 Trainer Cups, and they work wonderfully. 
Ze figured out this new set within seconds and sucked down three cups of water in zir fascination with the new cups.
The only bad thing is that they’re not easy for me to open, my hands can’t get a grip on the slippery outside, but they’re ten times easier to clean, and except for one user failure (mine) to properly re-affix the silicone lid to the trainer handles, we’ve had zero leaks despite all zir best efforts. And believe me, ze tries. Ze shakes them upside down, slams it against the tray, walls, zir head. I love them. I highly recommend them.
September 12, 2016
Big news!
We will not die intestate. JuggerBaby will not have to relive the plot of A Little Princess.
Best case scenario, we won’t need to execute any of this for so many years that this day will be a faint memory. But if we’re not so lucky, we’ll be as prepared as we possibly could be.
Our estate is relatively simple so it was a little embarrassing to take as long as we did (rather, that I did, since this was my project) and I didn’t expect to be anything but impatient and exultant in wrapping this up. It’s taken a record 10 and a half months to get these documents in order. But as usual, simple doesn’t mean easy.
It was held up by two things. One was sensible – we had to complete the refinance so we could easily retitle that property.
The other just feels, for lack of a better work, absurd. I’ve spent most of 2016 down with one plague or another. Right this moment I’m weakly trying to fight off the latest one to creep its way into my respiratory system. Begone, ye foul germs! It seemed less than civilized to go to fancy law offices, a dribbly, germy zombie, signing legal documents I couldn’t make heads or tails of.
Going into this whole thing, PiC had a natural reluctance to get into the nitty gritty that I disregarded on the principle that, yes, it’s depressing and terrible to think about but NOT doing it is worse! I was completely rational when sharing our thinking and process over a year ago, laying out the steps we were taking in my In Case of Emergency series kickoff. Of course I did. And of course, when the paperwork was sent over for review, the weight of the decisions we were signing to fell like an anvil in my gut.
As it turns out, when you’re planning for the future like this, you’re imagining the events that you’d want to transpire after your death. Then the inch-and-a-half tall stack of text is in front of you, you’re staring at a check box next to “do everything possible to prolong life” and another one next to “Do Not Resuscitate,” and your family’s possible future where either question is a reality flashes, slow motion, in front of you. It’s not a stretch to imagine, either, we’ve already gone through this with family members. We know how it feels to make the decision to keep trying or pull the plug. Suddenly everything feels awful and real.
We had a tough conversation over those documents, where we mutually avoided talking in detail about our long-gone parents, having to make that decision, and the idea of leaving JuggerBaby way too early.
The surprising part? Something had shifted in me. For most of my life, I didn’t care if anything happened to me because I didn’t have a deep emotional attachment to anything or anyone. I had responsibilities and a duty to take care of my family but while that was strong enough to anchor me in working, earning, and paying off debt, it was no replacement for having a compelling reason to live. It’s not to say I didn’t want to live, I just wasn’t worried about not living either, if that makes any sense.
Now, I do not want to imagine leaving my family to fend for themselves without me. I have a lifetime of guidance to give, and money management to share, and hopes for a future with my partner. But like we’ve always said, failure to plan for the events of your death are both futile and selfish. If either one of us were horribly injured or died, it would be terrible. But not having our financial affairs in order, not knowing what the other person wanted, and having to untangle all of that while grieving? MUCH worse. It’s also irrational to act as if planning for your death means that you want or you’re tempting fate, I think, but I’ve heard a lot of people use that excuse. Pardon me, but we ARE going to die someday. The least we can do for our loved ones is spare them some turmoil to go along with the pain of loss.
So. Now then. As I said, we talked, we emoted, we had feelings. And then we went to the lawyer’s office and signed everything officially with a notary witness. IT IS DONE.
Next steps: they will send us a binder for our records. We will begin moving our assets into the trust because an unfunded trust is an empty shell. That’s a story for another day! For now, I’m going to toast a glass of watered down juice (for the purposes of avoiding heartburn because my body is 89 years old) to completing the last huge To Do on my list from 2015!
:: Have you completed a will and/or a trust? Have you ever received, or expect to receive, a distribution of assets from either a will or a trust?
September 5, 2016
ON MONEY
I use Swagbucks. Here’s a handy tutorial if you’d like to join and earn.
Spending
Credit card churn, Card #2 of 2016: After $1,000 of paying bills, I’ve crossed the threshold for the required minimum spending to earn 35K Alaska miles. I don’t have a specific use in mind for these miles but I suspect they’ll come in useful in a year or two. The first card was also an Alaska card, in my name, but only earned 25K bonus miles. Humph.
Open ended travel planning: 3 free RT domestic travel tickets costs 75K miles and $36 (we paid $75 for each card, so the actual total is $186). Our current total of 60K miles is still 15K miles short. It doesn’t look like Alaska does discounted mile redemptions like United does, so to shore that up, I’ll sign up for dining miles programs so that any spending we do also earn miles on top of any credit card award points. Then we’ll be set for a trip that costs more than $500.
(more…)
August 31, 2016
A ramble on friendship, prompted by links
Like this woman, I once believed I didn’t get along with other women. I didn’t have a best friend, and it seemed like everyone had one of those, but I couldn’t ever quite get the hang of it.
In middle school, my personality and interests weren’t aligned with other girls’. Animals, yes. Stickers and stationery, JOY! Sparring and wrestling? Comics? Fighting bullies? No, nyet, and nope. My weirdness they could overlook but fighting bullies, physically, scared the girls. They made no bones about how they didn’t want me mad at them because apparently they didn’t trust me not to beat them up. I was barbaric for fighting back by polite society’s standards. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t bother me.
Maybe I was barbaric but at 8 years old, it never occurred to me to do anything but punch the boy when he laid hands on and shoved me. Does there exist another, equally effective and satisfying, response? Because not one of those bullying boys, and it was always a boy, came back for seconds, I’ll tell you that much.
I craved a close friendship, a best friendship that was second best to having a sister (possibly even better than a sister). But I didn’t understand social conventions, the girls didn’t know that non-conforming was ok, and thus, no friendship blossomed.
Male schoolmates thought of me “like a guy”, their way of reconciling a girl who wouldn’t take their crap. For a minute, it made sense that I felt like I wasn’t like other women and maybe that’s why I got along with boys better. That was simple truth – for that period of my life. Some years on, it struck me that the “not like other girls/women” compliment wasn’t at all a compliment to me. It was a poorly disguised way to put women down. It implies that being like other women is a bad thing, that women are inferior and to be better than them is a good thing. That’s insulting and stupid. We’re not a single monolith but neither are men and you don’t hear women complimenting men by saying “you’re not like other men”, suggesting that men as a group are inferior and being unlike them is the best possible outcome. Or maybe you do, I don’t.
Children vs childfree
A blogger friend I’ve gotten to know over the years was shocked to find that at least half, maybe more, of my close friends are childfree. Whether by choice or not, they are childfree. Her surprise was a surprise to me. It’s completely normal to me to hear a friend state that they never want to have kids, or maybe more confidingly, they did want them but couldn’t, so have moved on to enjoy their child-free lives.
In so few cases has the choice to have kids, or not to have them, changed a friendship for us that I was surprised by this AAM reader’s question: Has any childfree person successfully maintained a friendship with someone after they had kids or vice versa?
It seems that this is the adult version of othering women.
Of course having a kid will alter your reality when you become a parent. But so will many other things. So why wouldn’t you treat having a child, or treat a friend having a child, as another life adventure that’s happening and react accordingly?
Parents don’t get a pass on participating in friendships that they would like to maintain any more than workaholics get a pass on doing so. Speaking as an almost former workaholic, I think that’s fair. Speaking as a parent, I think that’s fair.
You get to choose how to adjust the friendship so you don’t knock yourself sideways accommodating it, and you have to have respect for each other’s life choices, but unless you loathe the very idea and presence of kids, kids don’t have to be the reason you break up with your friends.
Growing up
I’m still mostly the same person but I’m a little wiser, quite a lot older. More patient, mellow, comfortable in my me.
I still don’t fit in with any crowd, male or female, but I do have deep and fulfilling relationships. It turns out that you don’t need to click into place with other puzzle pieces. I used to think that was my irredeemable flaw that I’d never overcome: I just couldn’t FIT.
I saw Mom in myself. We struggled to create and cultivate friendships. We struggled with having faith in those relationships. We struggled to extend a hand of friendship to others, not knowing if they were in the market for a friend or an accessory. I wondered if I just had to find more people like me. I wondered if there were other people like me. My flawed assumption was that my classmates were a representative sample of the female population and that I’d always fly solo.
Now, my clan of kindred spirits is composed of singular women and men who seem to be nothing like me.
They are avid beer lovers and teetolars, dog lovers and cat people. They are reptile people and mammals-only people. Some are stars in their careers, some are building their career foundations, or finding themselves. Some are super stylish, or wizards with makeup wands (I am not and NOT). They’re librarians, goatherders, craftspeople, lawyers, romance novelists, consummate professionals, teachers, horror authors, doctors, feminists, activists, small business owners, journalists, bringers of proper hugs, hilarious stories, goofs. They’re passionate about money, stories, ancient textiles, traveling the world, helping women learn about finances, investing, creating youth initiatives, rescuing dogs, going to concerts, drinking all the coffee in all the world (or the wine). They’re loud and brash, quiet, thoughtful, intellectually without peer. They’re raising half a dozen kids, or a few, or one, or eschew human critters in favor of four legged critters. They remember JuggerBaby’s birthday, they dote on JuggerBaby stories, and gush over JuggerBaby pictures. They text, they DM, they email, they call.
I’d go on but I can’t feel my fingers anymore. Some of you will recognize yourselves in this list, some of this list have no idea this blog exists. But to the many of you, the multitude of who share with me a little of your lives, I’m lucky to have you.
I had to learn to be comfortable with myself, and learn that relationships with people will ebb and flow. They will almost always thrive when based on mutual respect, not need, friendships happened. I learned that some people are friends for the moment, and that’s fine. Some people are friends for all the moments, and they became family.
Someone once noted, for a misanthrope, I sure do have a lot of friends.
To which I reply, “pshaw.” I’m lucky to know good people. And maybe that’s all it is and it’s folly to claim all these interesting, eccentric, awesome people as friends. Not a one of them match me. They outmatch me. That small doubting voice, that one I inherited from Mom, points this out. I know why they’re great but how do I fit with them?
I don’t.
And yet that’s the beauty of it. We don’t match. We don’t need to look or be similar to be a good fit. What we do have is a shared sense of responsibility, a willingness to learn and make things better, to leave the world a better place for having had us in it. We don’t have a prescribed way to enjoy each other’s company: we talk, we text, we email, we tweet. Whatever works is what we do.
Even if they don’t feel as fondly toward me as I do them, or vice versa, there is fondness. It doesn’t have to be this perfectly calculated level of friendship to work.
At this stage of life, I appreciate what that’s worth. My nearest and dearest are far-flung and scattered and that’s ok.
Since we’ve become parents, we’ve found ourselves making the acquaintance of other parents in passing but we can’t and won’t force those relationships solely on the basis of their having reproduced. It’s nice to have friends in the same life stage, but those friendships, if they’re a good fit, will grow naturally, or not.
:: Do you have a best friend or many best friends? Who are you grateful to have in your life? Why?
