Saturation Point

Saturation Point

I want it. 

But how much should I spend on it?

I used to just spend what I wanted. When I wanted to. Without giving thought to how much I was spending. 

I used to believe that spending more meant I was buying higher quality. And that spending less meant a better deal.

I didn’t give conscious thought to what I wanted to spend. I allowed the item, or the situation, to dictate its price to me - and I blindly followed.

I reacted to situations. I reacted to the price tag. I justified something if I wanted it enough.

I didn’t have my own personal idea about value. Or about what something was worth to me. Or about what the exchange of dollars really meant.

I was living in the world of instant gratification.

If I wanted something. I got it. And most of the time I didn’t even look at the price tag.

This is the very foundation of impulse buying.

If you haven’t taken the time to know what you want. And you haven’t consciously decided how much you’d like to spend. 

No worries.

Marketers will decide for you.

They know that they can seduce you with a sale.

Or a brightly placed display.

Or an “Only 3 left.”

They know that they can tell you why it’s urgent to spend. Now. This much.

And that it works.

What A Lemon Tree Taught Me About Mon

I have an over-achieving lemon tree in my back yard.

It's a small tree. It doesn't take up a lot of space.

But it is serious about lemon production.

It's not like a regular citrus tree with its arms reaching up to the sun. It more like a weeping willow with heavy lemon-laden branches. 

There are at least five hundred lemons on it right now. (I didn't count... just go with my story here.)

When I first moved in, it was spring.

I thought lemons were in season.

And I picked tons of them.

And tried to use them all.

And then they rotted on my counter tops.

And the lemon tree kept on making lemons.

Summer came.

Still lemon season.

I ignored the tree.

The Power Of Numbers

The Power Of Numbers

Who would we be without our numbers?

The number of dollars in our bank accounts.

The number of bills waiting to be paid.

The number on the calendar.

The number of minutes left before we can clock out.

The number of hours we spend in our car.

The number of years it has been since we last travelled.

The number on the scale.

The number on our pair of jeans.

The number of drinks we had last night.

The number of crunches we promise to do tomorrow.

Lost Luggage

Lost Luggage

I was in some form of debt for nearly 20 years. 

The last three years of my life have been dedicated to radical debt eradication.

I didn't realize it at the time - but debt was kind of like my baby.

I thought about it constantly.

I would strategize about how to pay it down.

I would run numbers in my head.

I had a running calculation everytime I spent money.

Or made money.

I was obsessed.

This wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

It kept me passionate.

It kept me focused.

It provided momentum and motivation.

One Wild And Precious Life

One Wild And Precious Life

I used to wish that life was easier.

More fair.

I secretly wanted to be rescued. Or saved. Or at least have someone help me carry the weight of my journey here on this planet.

Maybe a man. A career. A friend. Fame. Money.

Could do the hard stuff for me.

So I tried subletting my life.

I tried to give away the property rights to my own self.

I tried handing over the responsibility.

The decisions.

And I found that I couldn't do it.

I can't be saved.

I can't be rescued.

And I don't want my life to be easier.

$571,817.68 Down And $0 To Go

571,817.68 is a lot of dollars.

On January 18, 2009, this is how much I owed in debt.

After a decade of living beyond my means.

A couple of lousy real estate transactions.

And a failed marriage.

 

I have carried this debt for nearly three years.

Watching each month as the numbers crawled toward zero.

And yesterday, I made my very last payment.

New balance: $0.00.

 

If I stacked 571,817 dollar bills into a pile and weighed it - it would be 1,167 pounds.

 

That's literally HALF a ton.

The debt I carried weighed as much as a grizzly bear.

My Body Knows

My Body Knows

My heart knows...

what it wants. It knows that love is really the only option. It knows why I am here and what my life is about.

My legs know...

how to walk. How to dance. How to run and jump. My legs know how to take me anywhere I want to go.

My feet know...

that I love the warm. The sun. The sand. They know when I've stood too long in the same place and when it's time to move. They know how many miles they have walked. 

My Daughter Wants A New Mom

In 2011, a few years into single-motherhood, my daughter (9 years old at the time) told me that she didn’t want me to be her mom anymore. This post was written late one night during one of the worst times of my life. Here’s the original post. Scroll down to see my update, written 12 years later.

What I Learned From A Bad Ass Three-Year-Old

What I Learned From A Bad Ass Three-Year-Old

He's wearing a striped polo shirt with camouflage shorts and a ball cap. As if he's ready to go to war for a country club. 

 

His mom is pitching. Major league style.


Overhand. Fast.

 

The bat is taller and heavier than he is.

 

He swings.

Hits it.

And keeps twisting.

And falls down backwards.

 

She chases the ball.

 

He gets up. Runs the imaginary bases with his arms up.

 

Home run.

Celebration.

 

How can I not fall in love with this kid?