I hate spending money on things I can’t see.  Let me take a moment and explain what I mean by “things I can’t see.” This list would include things like utilities (gas, electric, water), cable TV and frequent trips to restaurants. Now, before you begin thinking that Junior and I live in a cave with no heat, A/C or running water, and we hunt and gather our food as we listen to a transistor radio, let me clarify even more.

We live in a ranch-style home complete with a working furnace and air conditioner, and water does run freely through our pipes. We do occasionally dine out at our favorite haunts, and in the evenings we switch on one of our analog TVs and watch our favorite shows. However, we also practice several conservation habits, which enable us to keep costs down. During the winter months, I keep the thermostat at 67 degrees or below. We sleep in fleece PJ’s in flannel sheeted beds, which helps us to utilize our own body heat when the temps in the house dip to about 61 degrees. In the summer, nearly every room has either an oscillating or ceiling fan to help circulate air and keep the house cooler. We also turn off lights in rooms that are not in use and our fixtures are outfitted with those new compact fluorescent bulbs. We attempt to conserve water by using low-flow shower heads and limiting bathing times. We also only run the dish and clothes washers when the loads are full. These household conservation measures help with two issues. (The old two birds, one stone analogy.) They help us conserve the earth’s precious resources, thus “greening up” our home, and I am able to keep money in my pocket/checkbook/savings account.

Junior and I dine out only once or twice a month. This practice also helps to keep money that I can see and touch in my wallet, and enables me to maintain my “fighting weight.” (This has become increasingly difficult to achieve as my metabolism continues to decrease with the increasing number of candles on my birthday cake. Eating out is a special treat where I can indulge myself for that one meal and then get back on track eating healthfully within my minuscule calorie allotment.) All of this extra cashola enables me to purchase items that I can see, such as new appliances, furniture or knick-knacks for the home, or cute shoes and clothes for my closet.

Oh, and don’t let me forget about that great invention, the television.  I recently mentioned to a male neighbor that we do not have cable or satellite TV. (I refuse to pay to watch the boob tube.) His face looked aghast as he commented to my son, “Not even ESPN?” I am not sure what kind of reaction he might have had if I had shared with him that on more than one occasion, I have considered removing ALL of the TVs from our home. I just may have needed my CPR skills in order to revive him.

I managed to write four posts this past week-my scarcest offering to-date since beginning this blog. The reason behind the gaps in entries is that my son was on Spring Break. (I use the word “spring” loosely here, because it snowed TWICE in the early part of the week! No accumulation, mind you, but it still was snow in APRIL!) My son managed two sleepovers during his time off, and we conquered a couple of local museums, where we brushed up on dinosaurs and fine art. We also squeezed in a few chores here and there, and I worked on Good Friday. (Most people took that day off!)

Tomorrow, it is back to real life-schedules, homework, packed lunches, and over-stuffed backpacks.  Despite the chilly, winter-break-like-temps, it was nice to take a breather and have some down time. And, the good news is the last day of school is a mere sixty days away. Bring on those lazy days of summer, along with some warmer air!

I am hoping to take advantage of the creative juices that have been flowing within me since beginning this blog. I will be swimming in un-chartered waters as I attempt to refinish a piece of furniture. I have never really had the desire (or the patience) to take on a project of this nature, but with time on my hands and a lack of change in my pocket, I figure, what the heck.

This particular rocking chair is a token from my childhood-a comfortable resting place that once accommodated my pint-sized tushy. Once she could no longer safely contain my increasing size and weight, this rocker became a haven for my vast doll collection.  She had been safely stored away in my basement, until recently, when I brought her upstairs and found her a new home near the fireplace. Her current dye-job does not blend well with the decor of the room, so I will attempt to update her look.

This past weekend, I ignored my self-imposed shopping ban and headed to Lowe’s, where, for about twenty bucks, I picked up the products necessary to transform Miss Thing from her current oak wash to ebony. I posted a “before” photo, so you can see her original state. Once the makeover is complete, I will post an “after” glamour shot. That is, IF she turns out well.

Several months ago, as I contemplated the notion of buckling down and doing some writing, I decided to convert a spare bedroom into a writing room. This particular space is small and cozy, nestled between two other bedrooms in our home. I donated the barely-used futon that occupied one wall, and in its place, I re-located a desk. I hauled two, six-foot bookshelves up from the basement, and carefully stocked them with books of inspiration. (These selections were written by authors that I aspire to be like when I grow up.) Their purpose is to supply positive and creative energy to this sanctuary of sorts. I scattered some framed photographs alongside the various novels and classic literature to fill in some empty gaps.  As a finishing touch, I purchased a new lamp for the desk, brought in a small decorative chair and a trunk to occupy some unused space, and hung photographs of nature on the walls. I also took some time to reread the writer’s how-to-book, “Writing Down the Bones, “ by Natalie Goldberg, for further motivation. The writing room was open and ready for business.

Funny thing, as the calendar flipped from 2008 to 2009, I actually did sit down and do some writing. However, I have found that I tend to do my better work plopped in my bed or hidden away in my walk-in closet, with a spiral notebook in hand. When I have crafted a story worthy of typing up, I get comfortable at a second desk, located in the great room, and begin transferring the words into the computer, to be filed and saved.

Perhaps, the writing room can be used as my meditation retreat? I have been meaning to get more serious about my nearly non-existent practice of quieting the mind.  Ohm…………

It is spring, and that means that one can literally sit by a window and watch the grass grow.  I am not really looking forward to a plush, green lawn this year, because I have to mow it.  For the past six seasons, I indulged myself by hiring a lawn service to perform this dreaded weekly chore. Each week, Eric would faithfully show up, and within 20 minutes or so, have the lawn cut, weed-whacked, and the driveway and sidewalk blown clean. I just had to write a check, put it in a stamped envelope and leave it in the mailbox. No sweating, green-stained shoes, or gasoline-smelling hands.

I recently had to inform Eric that I could no longer afford his services. (Another budget cut resulting from my lesser employment status.)  This evening, I hauled out the spreader and sprayed fertilizer as I walked, row after row, up and down the lawn. (This is Step one of four of the Scott’s Fertilizer System. Good thing my lawn doesn’t have an issue with alcohol, or I would be forced to complete a 12-step program.) This feeding schedule is guaranteed to produce a lush, carpet-like covering. Great! Mow, mow, mow the lawn!

I hope to entice Junior to assist with my lawn care duties. (If I dangle the “increased allowance carrot,” he just might bite.) I measured him, like you do for those rides at amusement parks, and the good news is he is just tall enough to fit behind a self-propelled mower. I will buy him a pair of goggles, make sure that he is wearing closed-toe shoes, and pull the string. Vroooom! Off he goes………

I have been banned from shopping. This self-imposed edict is the result of my reduced employment. My once familiar shopping haunts-Kohl’s, Steinmart, Target, T.J. Maxx-are strictly off limits. I am also forbidden from Lowe’s and Home Depot, too. I will have to pass this year on a new Easter dress and bonnet.  ( I am not too upset about the bonnet. I don’t wear hats well, short hair and all.)  There will be no cute, strappy sandals in my closet, either. I will just pull out my varied assortment of open-toed heels and flats from years past.

I am experiencing few symptoms of withdrawal as I drive by strip malls, unable to pull in and park.  I don’t really need anything, anyway. (I am forever explaining the difference between a WANT and a NEED to my son.)  I am, however, finding it difficult to put the kabosh on any home improvement projects. Over the course of the seven years we have lived in our current abode, I have always had some kind of project to occupy my time and wallet. I have painted, tiled floors, re-modeled a bathroom, updated (in parts) the kitchen, and more. I would love to be able to re-do a second bath and replace my drafty, out-dated windows.  There are no funds for such luxuries in the budget this year, or possibly even next. Ouch!

I realize that I am contributing to the downturn of the economy. The only thing that I can afford to stimulate right now is my imagination. I may start a “wish file”, where I can store magazine clippings of trendy bathroom fixtures and ads for replacement windows. A girl can still dream. It’s free.

It has been a little over two weeks since I started this blog. I was introduced to this on-line notebook by my new BFF, Jane. She started her own blog in January, and simultaneously put herself on Facebook. In a nine week time-span, she has made virtual friends all over the US and parts outside its borders. She has also reconnected with long lost friends and acquaintances. She is a regular reader of several other blogs and was the guest stop on a blog tour of a published author. She is encouraging me to follow her lead.

Yesterday, as I clicked on Jane’s blog and then followed the prompt to the tour, I could feel my heart pound a little faster and my blood pressure begin to rise. I was having a mini panic attack triggered by my old friend, fear. Mr. Fear has been my nemesis. He knows just how to push my insecure button, which causes my tail to tuck between my legs as I head for the hills. Mr. Fear knows that I have run away from making a commitment to writing several times over the past several decades, dating as far back as high school. He would love to see me hang it all up again, another notch in his belt. I have been tempted to let him take the prize once more, but then I remembered that when he showed up five years ago in my room on an Oncology unit, I sent HIM home packing. (If you let fear win when you are battling a life-threatening illness, the chances are good that your choice will be a fatal one.)

I did allow myself to be intimidated by all of the scary places that I will have to go in order to broaden my scope as a writer. I even had to shut off my computer, pick up a cloth and clean house for awhile. (Dust does not scare me one bit.) However, I eventually sat back down at my desk, turned the computer back on, and wrote. I even began re-working a story for a possible submission to a writing contest. Oh Mr. Fear, come out, come out wherever you are……………..

I have a black-and-white photo hanging on a wall in my bedroom.  The young girl whose image is frozen in time is probably three or four years old. One might think that this child is my daughter, but the truth is, I don’t even know her name. The photo was taken in the summer of 1977 at Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana.  My friend, Peggy, and I were on campus participating in a week-long journalism workshop, where we focused on studying photography. Our days were filled with classroom instruction and lots of hands-on experience snapping photos. We then developed the fruits of our labor in a darkroom.

I shot the picture of the young maiden one evening as we passed by her home. She agreed to strike a pose for me, and in an instant, I captured the image that is framed on my wall. She is seated on the edge of her sandbox, clutching a cup or bowl of some kind, most likely a digging and scooping device. She has blond, Shirley Temple curly hair, and a lollipop is firmly implanted between her lips. She is wearing a white, girlie t-shirt and dark shorts, and her feet are housed in a pair of Stride Rites, with one shoelace conveniently untied. She sat perfectly still, looking directly into the lens of my Nikon.

One recent morning, as I lazed in bed soaking up the quiet, my eyes wandered to the photo. I began wondering what had become of my young portrait model. (She would be in her mid-thirties by now.) Did she have a happy childhood? Had she been a rebellious teenager? (In the photo, her eyes have a mischievous stare.) Did her young days spent growing up near a college campus inspire her to pursue a higher education, or did she choose some other career path? Is she someones wife or mother? I’ll never know. Wherever and whoever she is, I hope she is well.

Earlier in the week, I had lots of running around to do-the gym, errands, doctor appointment, etc.  It seemed that everywhere I went, I had positive encounters with complete strangers.  I exchanged some friendly small talk with a woman in my Spinning class. I traded smiles and a “hello” with the woman pumping gas across from me. I shared grins with others as we passed in hallways or out on the street. The trend continued at home, as I received encouraging emails from family and friends.  Was all of this cheeriness the result of a warm, spring-like day? Possibly.

I would like to believe that there was more at play here than just nice weather.  In light of all the bad news that we are bombarded with everyday-rising unemployment, dips and crashes in the Stock Market, foreclosures, wars and more, people are choosing to remain upbeat, and have a need to connect with others-even strangers.

Positive ALWAYS trumps negative.

In my younger years, teens and early twenties, I struggled with anorexic tendencies and binge eating.  (Obviously, I did not do them at the same time!)  After years of therapy, individual and group, and lots of my parent’s money, I conquered my eating issues and went on to seek out other obsessive-compulsive outlets.

It doesn’t matter if your addiction is food, drugs, alcohol, gambling, sex, drugs or rock and roll (okay, not rock and roll), all addictions are basically the same.  We, the addict, use food or alcohol or drugs to numb ourselves from our pain and to avoid confronting what is not working in our lives.

I began to notice a few years ago that when I was being a “good girl” with food (not starving myself or overeating), I had an urge to shop.  (The old retail therapy kicks in.)  I have traded one addiction for another.  I have seen this same concept play out with other addicts who are “on the wagon.”  There is the former substance abuser who has traded cocaine for Diet Coke.  Caffeine is now her drug of choice.  Or the ex-alcoholic who has swapped a bar stool for a pair of running shoes.  He became a marathoner (read: compulsive runner).  Is he still running away from something?????

I guess that is why addicts who complete some type of therapy or rehab are always referred to as “recovering.”  We never get the -ed ending, as in “recovered,” because we never really are.