I’ve been getting some emails and phone calls regarding my disappearance. I’m taking a blogging break for the summer and plan to be a writing machine when I return in the fall, say September or so.
Thanks for your concern. See ya when the leaves turn.
Sis
Crap on a stick! I just realize at 38 I’m grown up. I’ve gone from being carefree and silly all the time to mostly serious, thoughtful and (dare I say it?) almost responsible. Ugh. My evil twin, SINthia, calls it straight-up boring. Carefree rip anyway… She gets everything she wants. Which is where my current, recurrent issues are coming from. Just once I would like to throw a fit and get my way. Dave Ramsey says there is a grocery store kid inside everyone of us.
If I could feed that child within I would say this: I want new furniture. Waaahhh. Not the kind on sale, the expensive kind, with faux leather that’s soft and downy and recliners on each end and a whole room to match. *SINthia on the floor–thrashing about shrieking* I don’t want another piece-a hand-me-down, craigslist crap. Early garage sale is NOT a decorating style. They call it vintage cause it’s old…not she-she. Shabby sheek is just another way of saying ‘my husband won’t give me the freakin’ credit card or the keys to the damn-it emergency fund“.
(As my boys watch in wide-eyed wonder I would continue banging my head against the floor screaming…)
There’s a TV. I wanna TV. I ate all my peas, now give me my TV. I’m tired of that ten-year-old albatross in our living room. I’m sick to death of stomping across the living room to tell the kids for the fourth time to clean their rooms, messing up the TV because of a loose internal connection, then jumping up and down in front of it until the ding dong dang damn it thing stops buzzing and hissing like a giant cockroach…If I had a high def skinny TV I could do my workout DVDs better. Waaaah.
Sniff. Okay. Sniff. I’m done.
Please tell me this sounds familiar. You know what’s even worse? I’ve brainwashed Ben into buying all this Dave Ramsey stuff is a good idea. He now thinks saving money is sexy. He just asked the other day if had enough money to write a check for a new (angels singing) TV and furniture?
Yes.
Where is it?
In the emergency fund.
Oh, so we can’t touch it?
Not unless it’s a true emergency. (Car explodes, natural disaster strikes, someone dies, etc..) Or if we both agree…(Eve dangling the apple…)
Get behind me, Satan, is what he was thinking. Sounds like we need to make an envelope for TV and furniture, is what he said.
*Gah*
I wanted to holler, “Run! Run! As fast as you can, before you get sucked into being a responsible grown-up. Turning 21 was fun, the rest is overrated. Please, run. I’ll martyr myself. Take SINthia with you. Don’t look back, damn it run.”
But alas, the fox had already eaten the gingerbread man and in this story Adam didn’t eat the apple. I was left with the faint smell of bedtime, a hand-me-down fairy tale and a grown up for a soul mate. Shite!
With the child within– without, I went over to our money envelopes and with a sigh, wrote TV/Furniture on one and said to anyone who would listen, “Some days it sucks being a grown up.”
What does your child within want need. A new truck? iPad? A new gun? Banjo? A vacation? What’s your poison? Here’s your chance to whine, you best take it. Thanks for listening.
Simply,
Sis
Tags: dave ramsey, emergency funds, envelope system, evil twin, getting what you want, i want it all and i want it now, rants, saving for wants, saving money, Simple Money, SINthia, spoiled, throwing a fit
I don’t want for anything. Well, peace and quiet would be nice somedays or a faster internet service, but generally I lack nothing. So when Ben and I were shopping for ceiling fans I was surprised when he wanted to get me this.
In fact, I was hiding in the shoe aisle when he went to get it. Muttering something about I don’t think the slipper is gonna fit Cinderella and crouching to keep my head down so the shoe salesman wouldn’t see me trying to stuff my size nine into what felt like a five. (You know what Dolly Pardon says right? I wear a seven, but an eight feels so good– I buy a nine. Or something like that.) Anyway.
With help from that embarssing shoe horn I was able to get the glass slipper on. It felt good after I did. Ben insisted on getting the shoe horn for me. Gee thanks, Honey. A mother’s day I won’t soon forget.
Then he presented me with these.
Now back me up on this… those boots are made for spoilin’. I’m frugal, I wouldn’t buy those for myself –ever. But he would. I think they are cool in a dude sort of way. The kind of boot you have to be tough enough to wear. Cause you’re gonna take some lip for them–like you best get up to yer fighting weight–type of thing.
“I think they’re sexy,” he said. ”You can wear them to bed. Besides, you need something to use that shoe horn on.”
He’s so romantic. I think he wants to try to make me a mother again…some more.
Did you getting showered with unique mother’s day gifts this year? I hope so.
Simply,
Sis




