I look around and see a lot of people hurting financially. I hate that. Some have lost their jobs, others have made a financial mess for themselves and both are in fear of what the future holds. (The future may be really scary if we don’t get the capitalist killers out of OUR White House and other government positions.) At any rate, here we are. We need to skinny-up and get our own house in order before sending money to another person’s house.

The first step in getting your financial life in line is taking care of what Dave Ramsey calls the four walls: housing (including utilities), food, transportation and clothing.

Housing. Whether you own or rent your housing shouldn’t be more than 25% of your take home pay. If  it’s more than that you should consider selling or looking for a cheaper place to rent.

Food. We have to eat don’t we? But if you’re in a financial mess beans and rice is what’s for dinner until your finances turn around. While getting out of debt our family of four spent $400/month on food and household needs (toiletries, light bulbs etc…). We budget for $500/month, now, but eat out a couple times a month for a special treat. To save money we shop at Aldis, grow a garden, buy meat and eggs from local producers, cook from scratch and always, always, always make a menu and shop from a list. (Just ask my kids what happens if your requests don’t make the list…probably go without until the next big shopping trip.)

Transportation. Dave Ramsey says all of your cars, trucks, boats, four wheeler’s value shouldn’t add up to more than 50% of your yearly gross income. So if you make 50K/year your total value (what they are worth today– not what you paid for them) shouldn’t be more than $25K. If you have more than 50% you have too much invested in items whose value drops like a rock. If you’re make a couple of huge car payments, getting into cheaper cars would free up a lot of cash and get you back on track quicker. (We sold our brand new truck when getting out of debt. The best thing we ever did.)

Clothing. I’ve seen very few people running around naked. The ones I have seen were being chased by cops. So it’s not just a hunch, you probably have enough clothes to get by on until you are out of your financial mess. If not, or if you have kids that tend to grow regardless of what your bank statement says…shop garage sales and used clothing stores to save big. (I just found two pairs of GAP jeans, a pair of Cruel Girl jeans and three new shirts for me at Salvation Army and paid less than $20 for all of them.) Good deals are around every corner if you look.

With the money left over you should pay off your debts smallest to largest until the money is gone. If you’re getting a tax return or some windfall don’t forget to get $1000 in the bank for an emergency fund. And cut up your credit cards for goodness sake, they are nothing but trouble.

You can do this. The hardest part is making up your mind to change.

Simply,

Sis

Pitiful, ain’t it? It made me laugh outloud. It’s of W and Barney after an afternoon in our mud hole out back. (Swimming pool is what they called it.) When Ben saw it he said started filling in the thought bubbles. I tag-teamed…and it went something like this…

Skeeter (in the welding hat aka Barney): “Yeah, I can fix yer truck fer ya. Pull it round back there, I’ll have a look-see! That’s my brother, Ed. Good ole boy–strong as an ox. He can jest pick yer ole truck up and set it down on them blocks over there ch-yonder… You want a grape Nehi? I have one them yernins fer one…I’ll go fetch us a couple…”

*sphnicker sphnicker*

Here in Mayberry we don’t have much to do, but make fun of our offspring. Once it thaws we can head back down to the creek and git back to frog giggin’. Till then we”ll just pick banjos, pick our teeth and pick on the kids.

I really need to get out more. What are you doing till the ground thaws out enough to garden?

Simply,

Sis

(Thanks to BlogHer Pic App for this photo that makes me want to throw-up.)

It’s tax time, ie: pay more time if you’re a overachieving small business owner or it’s get back more  than you paid in for others. How fair is that? 

Our tax system is broken. It unfairly taxes the high income earners (a lot of which employ most everyone else) and lets those that make $250K or less basically skate. Give me a break. Marlin the millionaire thinks we should have a flat tax, say 10%. He says if it’s good enough for God, it’s good enough for government. I love it. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t get a tax return and hasn’t for years. 

I find it interesting what people choose to spend their money on. According to cch.com 41% people will pay bills, 41% will save it, 15% will spend it and 3% don’t know. How can you not know? Anyway.

Since tax returns are mostly other people’s money (most returns boast more money than paid in) maybe they should be spent responsibly. Isn’t that what we want our politicians to do with our money? What if everyone who got a tax return used $1000 to start a baby emergency fund, (remember emergency funds should be 3-6 months of expenses used for true emergencies) then with the balance they started paying off their debts smallest to largest until the money is gone?

What if everyone woke up fiscally responsible? We wouldn’t be in massive debt to China, there would be happier marriages, politicians would be laying down with the people (lion with the lambs), pigs would be flying and hell would be freezing over. I’m afraid even that wouldn’t wake us up as a nation. Maybe when the people of China call in our debt and folks in India take all our jobs and we are eating rice for every meal– we’ll have a light bulb moment (not the Al Gore kind) and want to do something about it. But by then it will be too late.

Got returns?

Got ideas on how to spend them?

Simply,
Sis

Whoop-Whoop!

Thanks so much for reading everyone. Hope your Valentines Day is fill with lots of love and respect!

Simply,

Sis

If you haven’t noticed music is important. Really. Around here it ranks with food, shelter and clothing. We take our vacations chasing it, we pass our time playing it, and in lieu of having a third child we adopted one genetically engineered for bluegrass instead. Weird ain’t it?

Our two boys have adapted to our weirdness by scrounging around and finding something to play. They know when it comes to music, all they have to do is ask, and it will be given. Deputy Barney chose the fiddle and W the electric guitar. (Despite being dyed in the wool bluegrass junkies…we allow electric instruments in our house. You can read the story of how, at eight, W rebelled by putting down the mandolin, picking up the electric guitar and asking for a tattoo ~ all in one day, here.)

I started playing the guitar just over a year ago. Even though Ben is a fairly good rhythm guitarist (and teacher) we I decided it might be better for our relationship if I had a video to learn by instead of lessons from him or someone else. That decision has served me well. Now Ben can just wonder through and give me pointers and other tidbits to build on what I’ve already learned. It’s sweeter that way.

What’s even sweeter is the time we spend together playing. Barney took this picture…

A perfect description of our life… music front and center, sometimes out of focus, shotgun news close, bedroom light on, half a bubble off of plumb, but happy. The connection we make with music is deep, profound and really hard to put into words. It’s no wonder people use music to worship God, the level of connection is deep and wide just like the hymn, truly spiritual.

All that aside. I haven’t played Kate, my guitar, for months. I’m saddened by this. I guess I worry if the house isn’t clean. Ben says he could live with dust bunnies and going commando and even PBJs for supper if I nailed a killer lick. My wifely/motherly duties tug at me frequently though, and derned if dish water isn’t a callus killer when it comes trying to keep your fingers tough. So besides needing a new instructional video I think I need a maid and a cook all in the name of great music. That might be expensive, but think of the money I’ll save in lessons.

Simply,

Sis

PS~ If you are thinking about buying a video to learn to play an instrument, be sure and get one that fits your genre of music. If you like bluegrass don’t be buying a ’learn acid rock licks overnight’ DVD. Another thing. I learned to read music as a kid, but find it a hindrance to my creativity as an adult. So I’m learning to play the guitar by ear. Regardless, I’m loving videos. The only drawback is music instructional DVDs are like exercise DVDs, you have to use them for them to work. *gaw*

It is the relationship book to end all relationship books. It explains the differences between men and women. When I read it a few years ago I was amazed at what I didn’t know. In fact, I have spoken with people who have been married for 35 plus years and they didn’t even know some of the simple facts in this book. Their consensus was the same…I wish I would have read this book years ago.

It teaches women to respect their husbands. Heck, I thought I was. Turns out I didn’t even know what respect really is. On the other hand it teaches guys to speak love to their wives. Typically they understand respect, but not love so much.

This book has allowed us to trade a good marriage for a great one. The kind happily ever after is made of. In the process it has helped me as a mom to understand all guys better. Since we’re raising a couple I think it’s helped me speak to our boys better and feed them the respect they need too.

I’m giving away one of these books for Valentines day. To enter please leave a comment about your plans for the day of love. Entries will end Feburary 13th at 9 pm. Enter now and trade your marriage on the rocks drink for sex on the beach.

Good Luck.

Sis

I have a blogging friend who sometimes thinks in bullets.

I sometimes think in bullets too, but I think my bullets are different than hers. Remember my bad hair day when I had to get my passport picture taken?

Anyway.

This time of year I get cagey. It’s cold in Kansas and it’s easy for me to start thinking weird thoughts if I don’t have a few hundred projects. So to keep myself in check, Ben and I organized our walk-in closet. (I smashed my finger during demolition and Ben had to do most of the work without me.) Then I painted an accent wall in my living room. Pictures to follow. Someday. Now I’m sewing more curtains to hang near the new orange brick color. Even more curtains will follow when I move to update our mud room. Porch actually. I live in an old crooked farmhouse where everything is reliably a half bubble off ‘a plumb and ain’t nobody ever heared of a mud room, so it’s a porch….

…about those bullets…

I think my sewing habit is fixin’ to get to me, cause this is what my world looks like through the eye of a needle…

   *so glad this camera has a micro function and my readers can’t see all the dishes I haven’t done

   *what happened to the make your house over in one day, days

   *since when did Khaki come in more than one color

   *why does Ben’s stash of chocolate taste better than mine

   *why did I just hide the wrapper under everything in the trash when I’ll tell him what I’ve done later anyway

   *if I start now…could I be a black belt by morning

   *sphnicker sphnicker

   *is that the litter box I smell or the my new favorite perfume

   *why do I have to dust my sewing machine’s parts along with everything else in this place

   *how long has that spider’s web been there

   *do these yoga pants make me look fat

   *what is it about grandkids that make grandparents try arm-farts before they get into the shower

Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition.

What do your bullets look like?

Simply,

Sis

(Thanks to BlogHer Pic App for another niffty photo!)

I can’t believe it’s been a year since this strange blog about simple living opened it’s doors. What I really can’t believe is how many people read it. I also can’t believe the people who read it are pretty darn cool and aren’t nearly as nerdy as me. They live anywhere from across the creek to across the big pond and are wonderful each in their own way. I’ve never had so much fun expressing myself or meeting so many. So, thank you for reading!!!

It’s always interesting to compare my favorite posts to yours. What I think is just bang your head awesome and what you think is are certainly two different things. I have a lot to learn about blogging, but then…it will be a while before I’m potty trained by the looks of the lone candle on the cake.

This was the most read post ever “One Money Saving Must“. It’s about the different uses for vinegar. It was supposed to be a fill-in post, but has been read by thousands. If all my post were read this much, Ben could quit his job and play his banjo full time. But, alas…that won’t happen this year.

This was the hardest post I wrote last year and the one of the most read. It is about the night we lost one of my brothers. I’m glad it has brought hope to so many.

Some of my favorite posts are…

The Naked Tomato

Sometimes you gotta get your hands dirty.

and as much as i hate her…anything by SINthia.

One of the most popular phrases used when finding this blog is g-string. I’m sure my mama is proud.  Of course it’s not my fault, it’s my damn-it evil twin, SINthia, who says what I’m thinking aloud. Grrrrr. Her posts are always well read and cause me grief when I leave the house.

Other popular phrases are pickled peppers (a great recipe, by the way), Yates banjos (our newest child) and braiding onions (something fun I tried this year).

So here we are over a million hits later, still living simply and a debt free life. Thanks for coming with me on my journey and sharing yours with me along the way.

Simply,

Sandhill Sis

and

SINthia

(Thanks to BlogHer Pic Apps for this funny pic of a guy that is bored with the woman who is sniffing. I love it.)

Take me for example. When I was shopping for perfume at 14 (under pressure to leave I might add) I chose Pearls and Lace based solely on the name. Miles down the road I started to cry and beg Mom to please make my brother turn around and let me take the perfume back ‘because I hate it, whaaaa.’ Mom had to lean on Jay, one of my older brothers, to turn around and take me back to Kmart. Finally he did. I ran in with a tear-streaked face and return it for a full refund.

My brother who was extremely funny and had the wonderful yet uncanny ability to peg people spot-on, make a quip about their pitiful downfall and surf out on the waves of laughter that usually followed. Well my friends, this day was no different and this sister was a walk in the park for his talent. After riding in the uncomfortable silence he finally quipped, “The Dr. Ruth of the perfume counter, that’s what she is.”

My mom howled. She has a beautiful musical laugh, but that day it didn’t seem so sunny. She laughed, tried to suck it up to save my feelings, then laughed some more. She may have even peed herself a little… I don’t know. I didn’t know who Dr. Ruth was or what she had to do with perfume. So I asked. Mom said she was a sex therapist. I asked what a sex therapist had to do with perfume.

Jay said, “She doesn’t know shite about sex just like you don’t know shite about buying perfume…”

That was below the belt and way too much for this girl’s fragile teenage hormones. But dead on, none the less. I still haven’t forgiven him.

Twenty years later, perfume is still a demon to me. It’s somthing I think I need because I sorely lack most things that seem lady-like, except curves, but I just can’t seem to get. And this is the year I want to get some for Valentines Day, some that makes Ben go DONG! As my friend discribes it ‘catnip for your mate’. I mean I want something that will make him jump back and kiss himself. Make him bang his head on the ground… ’cause I’m darn sure not going through the homemade G-string thing again. I tell ya that much.

With that in mind I went off in search for cat nip. I brought home no less than seven perfume papers for Ben and I to sniff. When Ben got home for supper we commenced to sniffin’. We did open-eyed sniffs, close-eyed sniffs, blind sniffs, double-blind sniffs and in the end we had decided I was still the Dr. Ruth of the perfume counter and maybe we would be better off putting them around the house like possible paint swatches to be sniffed in different lights and moods. Like a bad test at the doctors office, in a week we should know something.

In the mean time there are quite a few parallels in perfume and alcohol. I must be a perfume lightweight, after two sniffs I’m drunk and they all smell the same. The remedy is simple: drink Sex on the Beach and wear Very Sexy Dare, with names like that they’ve gotta be good.

What do you wear? What is catnip to your soul?

Do share, I need a bone here.

Simply,

Sis

Hot dang I am so excited! I’ve always wanted one, but never knew their history or how to say their name. In fact, I just left tripod spice grinder thingy on my list to Santa. The kids were doubtful old Saint Nick baby would come through. Well step back nonbelievers, cause Santa delivered.

Three-toes, my new molcajete (mol-ka-HE-teh), is hand carved out of lava and was really rough when I got him. Yes, it is a he. I checked. Like my guns, I name my kitchen gadgets too. I wouldn’t hold a woman that way. Moving on.

Molcajetes means stone sauce bowl. According to Aztec lore, the three legs is thought to pay homage to the god of the hearth, Huehueteotl, who is associated with the number three. Who knew.

To season the three-legged beast you can take the pear-shaped grinder thingy called ajolote (ah-ho-LO-teh) and grind rice or corn. What this does is basically sands the inside of the bowl to make it a little “smooth”. (This is where we have a break down in communication, as it depends greatly what your definition of smooth is). Anyway I ground like a bored Aztec woman, whose kids had left the nest or cave, whichever. For days I ground, rinsed and repeated.

 Here’s the rice before.

And after.

On the third day Ben said, what you need is a wire brush on a drill. (A great idea really.) But I glared at him at explained I didn’t want to miff the god of the hearth, besides I’m a traditionalist. A traditionalist until I start getting blisters, that is. Then I ran out and bought a whole set of wire brushes and commenced to scrubbing. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there.

 There are a lot of imitations out there for real live molcajetes. If you want to order a real one, you can go to Melissa Guerra or if you want to read another post about them check out The Homesick Texan’s post here. Great stuff.

Knuckles and brushes be damned, I think I’m almost there. While cast iron is easier to season, it was kind of a earthly fun project. Like cast iron in Mexican kitchens you pass your molcajete down through the family. I will be putting this in my will as some sick joke to my kids after Mommy is long gone. *sphnicker sphnicker* If nothing else I’ll be remembered for my twisted sense of humor.

What do you think? Do you think my saucy new rice griding past time is cool or just plain weird?

Simply,

Sis