It's a Cinch to Pinch

~Money-Saving Tips for Those Who are Serious About Saving Money~

During the Great Depression, and for some time after, women shared ways to scrimp and save in order to bring peace and quality to their homes and home-lives. It used to be the woman's job to make sure there was enough food on the table, the clothes were always fresh, ironed, mended, and that the children were trained, the husbands were happy, and the house was clean. It used to be that women took pride in such things.

When did that stop?

When did it become all about keeping up with the Joneses? Sometime between then and now, it became taboo to talk about cutting corners or sacrificing in order to provide essentials for your home and family. It became insensitive to assume that it was simply the woman's job to smooth out material, emotional, and financial wrinkles. Women began sharing the latest fashions, home-designs, and fads. Talk of how hard things can be was replaced with talk of the latest in trends.

I was born in the wrong era.

I do take pride in "running" our household. Mark is a hard worker outside the home and it stands to reason that I should be a hard worker FOR our home! This job is dirty, sweaty, tearful, exhausting, and so rewarding it often stuns me.

So...taboo, or not...for those of you Housewives out there gleaning all you can in order to provide the best for your family, here ya go:

1. Only buy one box of dishwashing detergent per month (or two months...our family is large enough to dirty dishes quite plentifully). If/When you run out before the month is out, wash by hand! You heard me!

2. Always make a list before going to the store and STICK TO THE LIST (and don't go to the store hungry)!! Also, before making that list, get creative. Go through your pantry and see if there's anything in there that could do for a casserole, soup, etc... You'd be surprised what might please your family that you find in the back of your freezer!

3. Curb the desire to buy new clothes unless you NEED them! If something is just a tad too small, try exercising a little more for one week. Just one week will bring the waistline more comfort. Wearing the same dress to church two Sundays in a row is NOT the end of the world. Simplify your wardrobe; it's possible to be sensible and fashionable if you are diligent and frugal! Be proud that you're saving money! If you must buy something, try first to find it at a second-hand shop. Not only do you save a bundle, but these shops are often profiting wonderful causes. (My favorite in Searcy is Paws Inn. Clothing is only a quarter and if you feel like splurging, there's handmade jewelry for fifty cents! Money goes to building a shelter for animals.)

That's it for now. I have tons more, so this isn't last on this subject! I'd love to hear your own ideas for saving! Share!!

Heaven

When I was a little girl, I used to like to imagine what Heaven will be like. In my young mind, I fantasized about castles, crowns, green hills, and laughter.

When I was a bit older and thinking about what Heaven must be like, I referred to scripture and tried to wrap my mind around singing angels, golden streets, and pearled gates.

When I became a wife and mother, I had a certainty in my heart that Heaven holds all that is right and good. I just simply knew, without having to exert imagination, that Heaven is beautiful and peaceful.

In the past few years, I've experienced earthly loss. I literally watched my daddy take his last breath as he stepped over from this world and into the angels' arms. I've felt pain, grief, devastation...but also peace, comfort, and relief. The passing of our loved ones from this life into the Next is hurtful in only a worldly way. It is also a celebration our hearts can't fully comprehend. A joy that is not quite yet complete.

I have begun now to think of Heaven as home. It is my home...it is being prepared for me. In all of our travels, some have reached that destination before me and as I picture what Heaven must be like, I think of castles, crowns, green hills, and laughter...singing angels, golden streets, pearled gates...righteousness, goodness, beauty, peace...and I see all of those loved ones there amongst it all.

One day, I'll be there too. What joy!!

Hot Woman on a Hot Day

Yesterday morning, the kids and I spent an hour in Spring Park enjoying (enjoying?) a small petting zoo. It was 95 degrees, but the kids didn't seem to mind as much as I did. My clothes were sticking to me and I wondered at the wisdom in wearing denim capris. As I longed for cotton shorts, I noticed a girl standing a few feet from me. I'm no longer any good at judging a gal's age...this woman could've been 20 or 40. But, at any rate, she had to be hot!

When I say hot, I do not imply that she was good-looking, though she may have been. I couldn't look at her face because of my shock in her attire. On a hot day, I am used to being assaulted by the indecency of women all around me. Hot weather seems to be permission to show as much skin as possible in any gathering. This was a gathering primarily of mamas and children, and yet, on some women, there was more skin than material showing.

This girl, however, was not in that category at all. I remind you it was 95 degrees, sticky, without as much as a small breeze, and somehow the smell of the animals seemed to add to the heat. This girl was dressed in a sweatshirt and blue jeans, that were tucked into fur-lined boots. I couldn't take my eyes off her. As my children passed by her, I wanted to shield them, for surely she was running a temperature! What was WRONG with her?!

She appeared very relaxed and comfortable. It was some sort of magic that she worked. While the rest of us, moderate to scantily clad women were damp and red-faced, this bundled up anomaly simply stood by herself with a contented look about her.

I did enjoy the look on my kids' faces as they took a ride on the Shetland pony (named Popsicles) and fed the ducks, bunnies, and goat. But this oddly dressed young woman took the prize for capturing my attention above all else.

Against my prophecies, she did not suffer heat stroke, nor did she have so much as one bead of sweat on her brow the last time I risked a glance her way. That woman most assuredly practices wizardry and I found myself rathering to look in the direction of the women in short-shorts and too-tight-tanks...looking at the sweat-less sweathshirted girl made me sweat even more!

Desperate Housewives

Housewives are sometimes mistaken for lazy women who simply don't want to "work." If you are a housewife, then you don't hold a job. Your job is to stay home and watch soap operas. Right? You aren't out there earning your keep and contributing to society. And you must have TONS of time on your hands. You simply sweep a broom and load the dishwasher.

Housewives are becoming extinct because of this stereotypical impression society has placed upon them. Being a housewife is no longer a title held in pride; a position known to be very productive. You are no longer considered to be doing your part, or even ENOUGH, for your family if "all you do" is stay home all day....letting your husband do all the "work."

I'd like to dispel this injuring thought process. Being a housewife is one of the toughest, most noble positions in the history of time. Being a housewife is an honor and should be taken very seriously. It's not glamorous. It's not easy. It's not even fun some of the time. But it's worthy.

To answer that age-old question, "Do you work, or do you stay home?".....

If you see me on Sunday morning at church, you might noticed the slight smell of house-cleaning-spray I surely still have all about me. And, if my dress allows, you'll notice red, sore knees. Saturdays, I try to clean our floors. I also try to wash our HUGE dog. My whole body gets doused in a lot of different soaps and solvents and it takes a good 24 hours for it to finally disappear.


If you see me on Monday, you might notice my lack of motivation. It's not because it's Monday. I love Mondays. They are like a new page in a journal or the first day all the birds come back for Spring. New. Fresh. Mondays have an air of, "Okay, forget last week; we can do it RIGHT this week!" But since Sundays are so peaceful and restful, it takes my half-closed eyes and lazy smile a good 24 hours to perk back up.


If you see me on Tuesday, you will surely notice the smell of fabric softener and also my chipped, broken fingernails. Monday's the big laundry day. I catch up on anything that needs folding and put away; I wash anything that's "important" for upcoming events; I make sure everyone has the essentials for the week, etc... Material is very hard on fingernails. It softens them and softens them until, by the end of the day, they are cracking and breaking. It takes a good 24 hours for them to thicken and strengthen back up.


If you see me on Wednesday, you'll no-doubt notice I'm a little hunched over. Tuesday's clean-the-bathrooms day. My back inevitably goes out every time I scrub the bathtub. It's just part of the deal. It takes a good 24 hours for it to work the kinks out and straighten back up.


If you see me on Thursday, you'll see a smile on my face and might also notice my slightly blue fingernails. Wednesday is clean-the-kitchen day. I love a sparkling kitchen. I also use a Brillo pad that oozes blue cleaner. The pads do wonders on my cabinets and sink. But it takes a good 24 hours for me to get it all out from under my nails.

If you see me on Friday, you will see tiredness in my eyes and may notice that I favor my right arm slightly. Thursdays, I clean the living room and den. This involves three ceiling fans, lots of vacuuming, and moving the furniture around to get every little dust bunny. Being right-handed, I use my right arm to muscle the big stuff and lug the vacuum cleaner. It takes a good 24 hours to work out the soreness.

If you see me on Saturday, I will be winding down from a busy week. I may not carry any outward signs of busyness on Saturday, but there's a new inner-peace. Friday's clean the bedroom day. I always sleep better in a clean bedroom. It will take no less than 24 hours for it to need another straightening, but for that 24 hours, I am at peace.

I love being a housewife and I take that job-title very seriously. There are more times than I'd like to count when I've had to take "time off" of work for sickness, trips, school events, etc... Playing catch-up is stressful. I'm tired every day and EXHAUSTED every night. I seem always to miss washing someone's favorite something. The rooms I so lovingly scrub are always in need of a desperate scrubbing again before their day arrives in the week. But I love it. I thank God I'm a woman and that He allows me the responsibility of being a housewife. What an honor. What a joy!

Joy in All Things

Our little family has decided to study the fruits of the Spirit very slowly and closely. We're going in order. April we studied Love and May we're studying Joy. I told the children this morning as we were getting ready for our day that we need to find a way to see Joy in every situation!

Soon after that instruction, Maggie turned to me and said, "Mama, is my neck red? Because it itches!" Red? Good grief, it was a rash from chin to bellybutton. I told her we'd talk to her school nurse and see if there was anything she could tell us about recent activities at school, etc.

The dog had gotten out of the yard and wouldn't come when the kids called. We were pretty close to being on time but any doggy shenanigans would put us behind. I told the kids to go in the house and finish getting ready while I got the dog in. The stupid dog.

She'd sit very still until I got to her and then she'd leap in the air and run to another yard. We did this way too long, four yards worth, and I must admit I was getting way past angry. Stupid, stupid dog!! I was dressed, wearing nice shoes, hair up, pearl necklace on, and I was treading through muddy yards yelling at a dog. Joy.

I finally gave up and walked into the house. I looked down as I was closing the door and she was right behind me. She just sweetly followed me in like everything was fine. ARGH!

The kids had been watching the commotion from the window instead of getting ready. I had to rush to get shoes on kids, backpacks, jackets, and shoo everyone out the door.

The school nurse said I should take Maggie to the doctor; she was already late for school and it would be fine if she just went ahead and missed today. So, I took the boys to school, called the doctor, and just drove right over to be worked in. Allergies. Something topical, bla bla bla.

So, she felt fine and I could've sent her to school anyway, but here I had a doctor's note saying she was excused for how ever long it took to get rid of the rash, if she chose to stay home during the rash.

I had to go buy milk, get her medicine (which cost way more than we'd budgeted for the month's medicine), and also had to go to the library to return books. I didn't expect to have an eight-year-old in tow as I ran my errands.

Joy.

I heard the word in my head as clear as if it had been spoken aloud. Hadn't I been praying for more opportunities to spend time with Maggie? The boys demand so much attention that I don't often have any time to give Maggie other than, "Take a bath," "clean your room," "do your homework," etc...

Joy, indeed! We took our time at the store and even more time at the library. We laughed like schoolgirls (well, she IS a schoolgirl) and snacked mid-morning (how very rebellious of us!).

We got Maisy (the stupid dog) a toy, in hopes of luring her to the door next time she got out of the yard. It has worked so far!!

What a day of joy this has already been...and it's not even noon!

I Am What I Read

I wish I could say that I'm of strong enough character to remain true to myself no matter what. However...I am what I read. Not only that, plots are like a drug to me. And I'm only just realizing this. Let me explain.

When I read the Joann Fluke mysteries, I bake. A lot. The main character in her books is a fun-loving woman who runs a bakery. There are recipes included between chapters and I find myself humming away in the kitchen during most afternoons after having read a few pages of Fluke's new Lake Eden mishaps. I only recently noticed this. I find myself motivated to try new cookies, pastries, etc...and I'm usually in a sunny disposition.

When I read Barbara Colley's mysteries, I clean. A lot. The main character in her books is a no-nonsense maid who's pulled herself up from tragedy, as a single mom, and now owns her own housecleaning business. She is frugal and efficient. She is very self-disciplined and finds a way to serve those around her by using her talents with rubber gloves and a mop. After just a few chapters of Colley's book, I find myself placing my feet firmly on the ground early in the mornings and having a load of laundry and a load of dishes both started before sitting down to my morning cup of energy. I only recently noticed this. I am motivated to get all the housework done without distraction and take pride in my work! I am often exhausted by the end of the day, but with an immense self-satisfaction.

When I read Carol O'Connel's mysteries, I am dark. Excessively. The main character in her books is a cynical female cop who was once a street-orphan and has endured countless heart-tearing tragedies. She trusts no one and is in pursuit of her own gratifying justice, which usually involves the huge gun she carries. When enjoying these books, I find myself seeing the darkness in most situations. I become cynical and sarcastic and often become cold and calculating toward my daily routine, and anyone involved in my daily routine. I only recently noticed this. I am often motivated to stick my nose in other people's business to offer my own negative opinions and am disgruntled when my opinions aren't taken to heart.

When I read Alexander McCall Smith's mysteries, I am always upbeat. The main character in his books is a "traditionally built" African woman who believes in herself when no one else does. She is independent and sees the very best in people. She longs to serve others and is very wise when dealing with the problems of those around her. When engrossed in these pages, I find myself seeing the truth behind people's selfish actions and love them through whatever struggles they are going through. I don't feel the need to burden anyone near me. I am confident and ready to take on the world...with kindness, instead of vengeance. I only recently noticed this. I seem to be self-sufficient and very strong in my character.

You get the idea. I could go on, but...again... You get the idea.

So, can you imagine what happens when I read God's word? I bet you can. The main character in this book is a supernatural being beyond anyone you or I could imagine. He is love; He is light; He is all-knowing; He is enough. When I read His Word daily, I find myself motivated to give; to love; to live right; to smile. I only recently noticed this. I find meaning and purpose and fulfillment and am not swayed in my knowledge and faith in Him. He is everything. And I long to simply live in His light.

It's important that I am careful what I read. Very important. Perhaps I'm the only one who has this weird quirk. But I do. And, because I do, I must make sure I'm reading more Bible than anything else in order to balance the reality of who I am (and WHOSE I am) with that of fiction.

The Monsters in Disguise

I wonder how many of you out there realize there are monsters walking around beside you in your everyday life. These are people who are angry, irrational, rude, mean, and sometimes violent. I'm one of these monsters.

Without the aid of what I call my "Happy Pills," I am indeed a monster of great proportions. We're talking hairy face, long fangs, sharp claws...the works. Doctors call it depression with an emphasis on anger. I call it a pain in the neck. If I miss so much as one dose, I'm in danger of exploding. As long as I'm faithful, the pharmacy is faithful, the doctor's office is faithful...all goes well. But one little slip-up and I'm a freaking catastrophe.

There was one of these said slip-ups recently. If I refill my medicine too early, the insurance won't cover it. There's this small window of time during which I can refill it, have it covered, and keep everyone safe from harm. I must've gotten it refilled late last time because I had to wait until the very day I ran out to get the refill this time.

It's usually not a big deal, especially since I ran out in the middle of the week. Everyone's still working...no holidays or weekends to wait through. I just ran to the pharmacy and asked for a refill.

Well.

The doctor requires you to come in for an evaluation every year or so. On the prescription bottle, you see a little date at the bottom that explains you may have "x" number of refills until such-n-such date, at which time you will have to go in for that evaluation. Somehow, I'd let that time lapse WITHOUT the ever-loving evaluation. My doctor knows me very well and I can usually just call him and say, "I'm still mad as a hatter. Refill?" And it's all okay.

This time the pharmacy assured me it would be no problem for them to the call the doctor and have it all ready for me by the afternoon.

It wasn't.

And it still wasn't ready the next day.

Life goes on around us, with or without monster-preventing medication and that's exactly what happened this time. Life. There were things that needed attending to and these things completely took my mind off of the pharmacy for a few days. We headed into the weekend and then, my friends, all bets were off on me making it through unscathed.

I absolutely melted down. I don't exactly know why, but something made me start yelling and I'm pretty sure I didn't stop for 24 hours or so. Yelling. Crying. Yelling. Crying. Yelling some more. My poor family.

The fire coming out of the top of my head was NOT the Holy Spirit and only caused anyone close to me to burn horribly. I was a monster.

Well, I called my doctor's office and they told me NEVER to depend on the pharmacy to refill this delicate of a medication and I had that medication in my hands within a few hours. The monster is buried deep within me once again.

But I know it's there. And that's what bothers me. Without medication, I am none of the things my husband loves about me. Without medication, I am not even accessible to my children. Without medication, I forget God is here and ready to help me.

I hate the monster. I will live with it and fight it every day of my life. But I will never love it.

There are monsters walking among us. I'm one of those monsters.