Frugal Blogger

I want to be frugal. Not forever, you see, just long enough to see if I like it. I'm so envious (yes, I know it's one of the seven deadly sins. i'll work on that later in the year) of people who can follow a budget, balance their checkbook, put things back because they "don't need them", etc. I want to be one of those girls. Those girls look like they have a life in control. Any suggestions on how one could become frugal? I want to give it a shot and I promise I'll try it for ONE WHOLE DAY. If I like it I'll do it more, but likely just in certain areas.

NOTE: I got this idea from my dear friend Janelle's blog. She had a link to http://www.inashoe.com/ (yes, I thought it was about shoes) This woman is amazing. She has 8 1/2 children and obviously follows a tight budget. Somehow, though, she manages to make it look fun. Check her out.

Possibly The Scariest Decorating Ever

A few months ago, Carl and I went to see The Sound of Music at our local theatre. I think I blogged about the lack of beer. Anyway, during intermission I did what EVERY girl does. I went to the restroom and waited in the impossibly long lines to use the facilities. Something creepy caught my eye when I walked in. I was actually so taken aback by what I saw that I looked away and then when I was finally in the stall (which was secured with a shower curtain!) I pulled back the shower curtain and shot this pic with my camera phone. That's why it's grainy. Don't they look like Muslim women in burkas with flowers? Well they're not. It's much worse. They're URINALS wearing sheets bearing plastic flowers as gifts. Must have been a tight budget. Ick.

Kisses

So here's what happened. We decided that EVERY year on our anniversary we would try to recreate our wedding photo. You know, something to look back on each year. Well, it proved to be much more difficult than we planned. This is my favorite picture, but it sure wasn't easy to catch. Poor Carl had to kiss me like a million times. I'm not even sure I remember having this photo taken. Was I asleep?

Death by Chocolate only made me STRONGER

The Vandenberg Spouses Club organized a trip to the local casino tonight. (It was lame in so many ways) It happened to be the night of the Chocolate Buffet. They gave away our table because we were seven minutes late. Apparently The Death By Chocolate is a big deal out here so we had to sit in pairs of two and four. Basically, it boiled down to eating chocolate with my neighbor. She's just fine, but we could have done without the car pooling if it was going to be such a cluster. I tried to make the most of the evening by gambling a little and indulging in really bad chocolate. Oh look at it. It was just awful.

Why men shouldn't take phone messages...

I eated it

Positive Affirmations

This week in my all too lame college course our tree hugging teacher (who I love, but is a total wreck) decided that since no one was doing their homework it must be a result of our low self-esteem. Well and that when asked where her homework was, crazy girl burst into tears and had some excuse about her grandmother dying when she was two. Then we spent 45 minutes consoling her. So our assignment this week was to prepare a positive affirmation and say it to ourselves everyday. I think positive affirmations are stupid but I'll play her game. When we were asked to share our positive affirmation with the class I delivered this blow: "I am going to resist the urge to crush the weak. They don't have as much going for them as I do." My teacher had to pick her jaw up off the ground. She doesn't know me very well yet. Maybe I like positive affirmations after all, I've said it at least twice a day since then.

We're 1!

We made it! We've been married ONE year! Turns out one year IS diamonds. I like diamonds. I wonder what you get for two years?!? Wow. I might have to hang around and find out. I've never been married for two years before.

Carl's First Blog Comment

Today I sent Carl the following mushy forward via email:

Hot Chocolate

A group of graduates, well established in their careers, were talking at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now retired. During their visit, the conversation turned to complaints about stress in their work and lives. Offering his guests hot chocolate, the professor went into the kitchen and returned with a large pot of hot chocolate and an assortment of cups - porcelain, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the hot chocolate.

When they all had a cup of hot chocolate in hand, the professor said: "Notice that all the nice looking, expensive cups were taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. The cup that you're drinking from adds nothing to the quality of the hot chocolate. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was hot chocolate, not the cup; but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each other's cups.

Now consider this: Life is the hot chocolate; your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life. The cup you have does not define, nor change the quality of life you have. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the hot chocolate God has provided us. God makes the hot chocolate, man chooses the cups. The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything that they have. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. And enjoy your hot chocolate.

This is what I got in response:

That's nice but I'm sure Hugh Hefner's Hot Chocolate is much happier driving around in a limo and wearing silk PJ's than Pepe who's Hot Chocolate wears Wranglers and rides around in a rusted out Ford Festiva.

Italian American Sicilian Jesus Killer, I am

Carl will tell you I'm nosey. I prefer the words investigative or intuitive, but he's got the right idea. Anyway, for some time I've been questioning my Sicilian heritage so I decided to do a little research (and I was hoping to find a little dirt about my ancestors along the way). I contacted an Uncle from my father's side of the family because I'd heard he did some research of his own years ago while vacationing in Italy. Here's just a taste of what I translated from the documents:

1) The Sicilian in me is actually half Sicilian and half Italian. Confused? Maybe that seems insignificant to you, but Sicilians hate Italians and Italians hate Sicilians. Well, all except these two ancestors apparently. I can only say that explains my personality. Oil & Water. Fire & Ice. If you know me you probably don't need any further explanation;

2) Our family home was bombed during WWII and only portions are still standing. It was built from ceramic (common in Italy) therefore it has never been reconstructed. I guess in Italy when something falls (or leans) they just leave it that way. That's one way to embrace life - release the death-grip on it;

3) The original trip to America (NYC) from Abruzzi has been attributed to Grandpa Giseppi in 1905. (Cute name, huh? I tried. Carl doesn't like it. There is NOT a Giseppi Bottolfson in our future.) The rest of the family emigrated to San Palo, Brazil from Pescopennataro;

4) There is something in the documents about the family having a "good heart". Since my grandfather has had several open heart surgeries and I'm pretty sure there's a pig valve in him somewhere I don't think they mean the organ;

and the most interesting piece of evidence

5) Our family surname originated from Ponzius Pilatus. That's right - the Roman Judge that sentenced Jesus to death. You know him as Pontius Pilate. So even though, in a way, we all killed Jesus, Carl has taken a liking to this part of my ancestry. Now whenever he does something wrong he says, "Well at least my ancestors didn't sentence Jesus to death." Yuk Yuk. Laugh it up Carl. You might go to Heaven, but you'll be lonely up there without me.