Act 38: Live for a Week at the U.S. Poverty Level

The US Government says that to be considered "poor" a family of 3 would make $19789.56 a year. That translates to $380.57 per week, so this week's task for The Boy, The Girl and I was to live on $380.57 for the week.  First I had to calculate our standing expenses.

$735  Rent  (To get this, I took my mortgage payment and subtracted taxes and insurance to get the cost of the dwelling itself.)
$225  Car
$90  Cell Phone
$90  Electricity
$30 Water
$30 Heat

=$1200.00 for fixed monthly expenses.  Since we are doing this for a week, I divided that by 4 and got $300 for a week's worth of expenses.

That left us with $80.57 for food, gas, and incidental expenses.

Whoa.

I took a moment to thank God that I don't have a kid in daycare, and sat down to make my grocery list.

The Boy, The Girl, and I had already strategized on how best to approach meals.  They take their lunches to school every day, so school lunch wasn't an issue (though under these circumstances, we would qualify for the Federal School Lunch program.)  Looking at the week, I saw that I had no catered lunchtime events- which meant I would need to bring my lunch every day.  I typically eat lunch out only 1-2 times a week, but at $10 a pop, that would have to go.  I also saw that there was no extra money in the budget for coffee, so I would throw $2 into the office coffee fund and just get my coffee there this week.

Breakfast and Lunches won't pose much of a problem - The Kids pretty much eat the same thing every day.  My lunches can easily be made from leftovers, and if push comes to shove, I can make sandwiches for myself too.  The real sacrifice is in variety.  We can afford to buy the quantity of ingredients to get us through the week, but we have to eat all of those things until they are gone.  That means a lot of peanut butter, the same 2 vegetable choices, and a lot of soup.

Our food for the week

What really worries me is the weekend.  I had plans to go out with my girlfriends, and will probably want to go out on Saturday.  There's really not much left to have coffee with a friend, and forget about going to a movie or anything like that.

Sunday:
We "paid" all our bills and then pulled $80 in cash for the rest of the week.  The trip to the grocery store was enlightening.  The Boy kept a tally of our spending with the calculator, and The Girl was in charge of our shopping list.  She was a stickler for not allowing off list purchases.  (Atta girl!)  When it came time to buy fruit for lunches, the boy noted that low sugar pears (in their own juice vs. in syrup) were almost $1 more expensive than their high sugar counterparts.  He and his sister conferred and opted to go with unsweetened applesauce, which cost the same as the sugary stuff - but with two additional servings (6, rather than 4).  They also negotiated a change in the menu (fish sticks over macaroni and cheese) by downgrading the from goldfish in their lunches to plain pretzels.


I spent most of Sunday taking the ingredients we purchased and making soup.  I made a large pot of vegetable soup and one of chicken noodle.  This is to help me pack lunches for myself during the week - as I try to avoid eating the high carb dinner leftovers that The Boy and The Girl prefer.  Since lunch out is not an option, I have to be extra careful about having lunches easily available.

After grocery shopping, we had $31.20 left

Monday:

• Breakfast - Instant Oatmeal for The Girl and I.  Grits for The Boy. 
• Lunch -  Kids:  PB&J Sandwich, Fruit cup Applesauce, Carrots, Goldfish Pretzels,  Me: Vegetable soup, PB&J
• Dinner - Spaghetti, Frozen broccoli

First, The Boy was still hungry after his grits, so I gave him a hard boiled egg.  The Girl decided that she wanted an egg too, so she ate that instead.  Luckily, The Boy took care of her oatmeal too.
The day went mostly fine, but I found I was nervous and aware of the fact that I could not spend any money this week.  In fact, I worried about it.  I found myself thinking very carefully about any errands or driving, because I wanted to conserve gas.

I underestimated the amount of food a growing 11 year old can eat, because The Boy was really hungry at the end of the night.  Without my knowing it, he ate 2 of the eggs I had "budgeted" for the week, and most of the lunch pretzels.  I tried not to fuss at him too much, but it really messed with my plan for the week!  Luckily, it will be just me toward the end of the week - and I can get by on the leftovers.

We seemed set, until the weekly email from school came.  The Girl has to bring a white tee shirt covered with 100 decorative items to her 100th Day of School celebration.  Oh, and it's the teacher's birthday next week, so the class parents are taking up a collection for a gift.   The shirts were on sale at AC Moore this week for $2.50 each, so that wasn't too bad.  The Girl wanted to use buttons, but a pack of 50 buttons was $3.  At $6, that was not doable.  We opted for one tee shirt and to use sharpies to draw 100 hearts on it.  (Thank you DPS for the use of a red sharpie.)  $2.67 for the tee, $2 for the birthday fund, and we are down to $26.53.  And it's only Monday.

Tuesday:

• Breakfast - Instant Oatmeal, Grits
• Lunch - Kids:  PB&J Sandwich, Fruit cup Applesauce, Carrots, Goldfish Pretzels,  Me: Vegetable soup, PB&J  
• Dinner - Macaroni & Cheese Fish sticks, Baby carrots Leftover broccoli

After the unexpected expense of yesterday, I was resolute to not spend any money.  I made it until 12:30.  The Girl's teacher called - she wasn't feeling well and needed to be picked up.  I left work early - which if I were an hourly employee would mean no pay for me - and headed to school to pick up The Girl.  She walked up to me in the school lobby, said Mommy, I don't feel good, and proceeded to vomit.  I grabbed a trash can and handled the situation.  On the way home, she asked for a Sprite - which is what I always give her when she's sick.  She looked so pitiful that I had to stop at the convenience store.  $1.32 later, she had her Sprite, and we were left with $25.21.  That night we had fish sticks for dinner.  I gave The Boy one of mine because he was still hungry after eating his.  (When did he get to be such a vacuum cleaner?)

Soup, soup, and more soup.
No danger of starving, at least.

Wednesday: (No Kids)

• Breakfast - Instant Oatmeal, Grits  Hard-boiled eggs.
• Lunch - Kids:  PB&J Sandwich, Fruit cup, Carrots, Pretzels  Me:  PB&J, Vegetable Soup
• Dinner - Black beans and rice.

Home sick with The Girl.  I am so sick of soup.  I used the slow cooker to make some black beans, so it will be black beans and rice for dinner tonight!  As you can see in the photo, I have plenty of food, but it's not a lot of fun eating the same thing for lunch and dinner every day for days on end.


Thursday: (No Kids)

• Breakfast - Yogurt cup
• Lunch - Soup
• Dinner - Leftover soup

I miss meat, and I miss salad.  I feel so blechy because my meals have been so carb-heavy.  The black beans and rice last night helped a bit, but I've eaten about 1/4 of the recommended amount of protein for a healthy diet.  The Greek yogurt this morning helped a bit, but I feel bloated and gross.

Also, I forgot to buy cat food on Sunday, so another $3.17 gone.  $22.04 left.


Friday: (No Kids)

• Breakfast - Yogurt Cup
• Lunch - Soup or Spaghetti leftovers.
• Dinner - Dinner out w. the Girls.  Supposed to order Thai Food... Hopefully, gas won't be too expensive this week and I can order an entree.  If not, it's going to be soup for dinner.  

I made it to Friday with $22.04 in my pocket.  Here's the dilemma:  I need to change the oil in my car, and I have dinner out with the girls planned.  The oil change will have to wait.  And because this is an experiment, I have the luxury of spending 12.5% of my food budget on a single meal.  However, that would be completely out of my reach normally.  Luckily, it turned out that I was able to get away with paying only $5.17 for my meal because my friends overpaid for theirs.  (My rule was no free meals, but I have good friends who found a way to help me out anyway.)  Let me tell you... After a week of vegetable soup, spicy shrimp with eggplant never tasted so good.  AND I had leftovers for the next day.

Saturday: (No Kids)

• Breakfast - Yogurt Cup
• Lunch - Thai leftovers
• Dinner - Thai Leftovers

I almost broke the plan because it was my dear friend Amber's birthday, but time was not on our side, so we made alternate plans.  I was headed out to see another dear friend, Chantal, but it was lunch time.  Since I didn't have any spare cash to grab any fast food on the way,  and I didn't plan ahead - whoops! - I had to run home to eat.  That detour cost me precious gas, and made me about 20 minutes late.  But I remained true to the plan.  I made it to the end of the week with $16.87.  Just in time to roll up to the gas station and fill my car, which was running on fumes, with gas.

I made it, but barely.

You know, it was easy to fixate on the lack of variety and flexibility in the food we had, but I cannot understate how stressful the whole week was.  I felt anxiety all the time.  Every time the kids asked to do something or buy something, I had to say No, we can't afford it..  And I cringed every time the kids asked to eat outside of our planned meal times.  It was very difficult to not be able to just provide for my children.  I can only imagine how it feels when this is an everyday occurence.

This week was hard: there's no way around it.  I lost a day and a half of income because The Girl was sick.  The car had to be serviced, and I put it off because I couldn't afford it.  Oh, and The Boy who was eating me out of house and home needs new school pants. I am so grateful that this was just a short-term simulation.  It definitely helped me to be more aware of how casual I can be about spending.  It's just stuff - until you don't have it.


By the way, if you want a taste of this for yourself, Urban Ministries of Durham has a great simulation called Spent.  It allows you to see how you would do making it through the month with all the obstacles and bumps that come along.  I used it with my students during a research unit on Social Action, and it was very eye opening.  Check it out!  Play Spent

Act 39: Forgive and Seek Forgiveness

 When I put this act on the list, I was thinking it would be a "gimme," an easy filler between the more momentous events.  Turns out, I was completely wrong.  This act is, by far, the scariest and most difficult one yet.

I say "is" rather that "was", because I realize this act is ongoing.  It will never completely end.  While it's possible to seek forgiveness from those who are topmost on my mind,  I know that there will be more to come.  There are people who I have behaved badly toward that I have forgotten, many I will hurt in the future, and a few who I cannot seek out.  That's the thing about seeking and giving forgiveness.  It's less of an act and more of a process.

I chose the people to approach based on one criterion.  They were the folks who, when my mind lit upon them or the time I spent with them, it quickly jumped away, like when your tongue accidentally touches an aching tooth that you are trying to ignore. If I could hardly bear to think about it or if I would have trouble looking them in the eye when our paths would cross, I knew something needed to be done.

I'm thankful that this criterion generated a fairly short list.  As a rule, I try to own up to my mistakes and make things right with the people in my life when I can.   However, because of my past self deception, there are some things that I told myself weren't all that bad. Or worse, the things that seemed like the right thing at the time, but upon reflection were sooooooo wrong.   That's where I focused my energy.

I also had a hard time deciding whether is was better to apologize in person or in writing.  On one hand, face to face is the most sincere.  You can look the person in the eye, make your intentions clear, and ask to be forgiven.  Writing an apology at first felt a little cowardly - as if I were hiding behind the words on the page.  However, I decided to go that route for two reasons.

Number one: I am terrible when it comes to speaking extemporaneously about my feelings.  Someone close to me once pointed out that I can talk eloquently for days on pretty much anything, but you get me to try to express my feelings, and I become a stammering fool.  This was too important to bungle with my clumsiness.

Number two: it seemed more respectful.  In some cases it had been years since I had any contact with the person I was asking for forgiveness.  It seemed kind of insensitive to pop up out of the blue, drop a big emotional bomb on them, and demand forgiveness then and there.  I know if it were me, I would want time to think, process, and consider whether or not to respond.

That's the other thing I had to reconcile my feelings on: the response.  Just because you ask for forgiveness doesn't mean it will be given.  I had to make peace with that fact that I may face rejection, rebuke, or hostility.

I will not offer details of the individual experiences, because I don't want the fact that it was motivated by my list to undermine the intent of each act.  Asking forgiveness is not a stunt or a formality, and each time I did it, I felt the weight of my actions and the regret that followed.

I will say the first message was the hardest.  It took me two days of thought and deliberation to say what I wanted to say.  And once I had it ready to go, I almost changed my mind.  But my heart was telling me it was necessary, and so I did. Once that message was released into the world, I felt immeasurably more at peace.  It doesn't matter if I get a positive response, a negative one, or none at all.  I've asked for forgiveness, and now I can set about forgiving myself.

The forgiving of others was a little easier - at least on the surface.  The shame factor was a lot lower, at least.  What was hard was the surrendering on those wrongs.  There's something comforting about holding on to the wrongs that have been done to you.  They are both a shield to hide behind and a weapon to use to bludgeon.  When someone has wronged you, you have something on them.  They owe you a debt, and it's tempting to lord that over them and make them pay and pay and pay.    That kind of thinking can slowly eat away at you.  As is often said: holding on to bitterness is like eating rat poison and waiting for the rat to die.

And so am doing my best to surrender those old grudges  to which I had clung.  I am trying to let go of the old resentments and the hurt and the bitterness.  Because - just like my inner Critical Review Board - I don't have time for that foolishness.  I just don't have room for that in my heart for that any more.  Holding those heavy bludgeons over people's heads wears me out too.  I would rather channel my energy into more positive pursuits.

So, I'm going to declare this act complete - for now.  I am certain that there are people out there who - if they were reading this - would be pissed that they haven't gotten their apology yet.  And it hurts my heart to think I've wronged someone deeply and not remembered it.   For that, I am sorry.  I ask you to lay down that shield and bludgeon.  I'm laying mine down too.

Act 11: Track Everything I Eat, Spends and Consume

  This is a big week in the 40 Acts of Courage world.  I am three days in to living life at the US Poverty Level (#38), have selected my daunting classic work for #3 (Don Quixote, if you're wondering), and have scheduled my Astrological reading for #4.   I also have the martial arts classes all lined up for #18, have a date to cook at the Ronald McDonald house (#35), wrote a first draft for a piece for publication (#25), and have a date to go camping (#13).  Things. are.  happening!


In preparation of my week of living close to the bone, I spent last week tracking everything I ate and spent.  That was eye opening.  The first thing I learned is that I do both without really being fully aware of it.  I know mindfulness is kind of a buzz-word right now, but I think we have a desperate need for it.  I was amazed at how much I consume without thinking.  But the real revelation had nothing to do with being a consumer.

Since the first of the year, I've been weighing myself every day.  I felt like my weight had been fluctuating quite a bit lately, and I wanted to see if there was any pattern to it.  So every morning, around the same time every day, I would step on the scales.  I would then write down the number on a little calendar in my bathroom.  I did this every day for 10 days, without fail.  Those 10 days happened to coincide with an increase in exercise, as well as a nice dose of The Heartbreak Diet, so every day, the number was smaller and smaller.  On the 11th day, the number went up.  I'm not going to write this one down, I told myself.  It's a fluke.  The next day, the number was around the same place.  I didn't write that one down either.  On the third day, when I looked at the blank days record I had been keeping, I stopped to think about it.  Why did I not write down the higher number?  It's just data.

I noticed the same phenomenon with my food diary.  On the days when I was "being good" - that is, eating only at mealtimes, staying within my recommended calorie range, and exercising - I was eager to record what I had consumed.  The day when I polished off almost an entire sleeve of Thin Mints by myself?  I was less eager to record that.

Why?

Not writing down the number on the scale or not recording the Thin Mints didn't change the reality of them.  But, I guess for me it kind of did.  See, if I didn't acknowledge it, then it didn't happen.  I didn't have to face the guilt and judgement for falling short on the lofty expectations I had set for myself.  But that didn't make them any less true.

My whole life, I have ALWAYS failed at keeping a food diary - despite being a very structured, detail-oriented, Type-A person.  One would think I would thrive on the precision of it, but no - every time I've tried it, it's been a failure.  And looking back over the patterns, I see that the process broke down when I stopped being perfect.  When I made mistakes, then I just stopped keeping track.

I was lying to myself by not acknowledging the facts, and that self-deception led me to even bigger problems.  Because when you're trying to hide the truth from yourself, you end up glossing over a whole whole whole lot of important, but uncomfortable stuff in the pursuit of only the pleasing things.  And you send a very clear and very powerful message to yourself that some parts of your simply are not acceptable.  That is some messed up stuff right there.

So last week, I decided to push through and record even when the things I had to write down were less than pleasant.  (FYI - a sleeve of Thin Mints?  640 calories.  Oy.)  Here's what happened - it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought.  Most days, I stayed under or right at my calorie target.  The one not-so-great day, I went about 400 calories over.  But that was nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be.  And because I saw that it wasn't that bad, it made me more motivated to keep my positive momentum going.  Double bonus!

As for the number of the scale, I've decided that that's going to be just a data point for me.  Being a woman of a certain age (ahem.), my weight fluctuates within the month.  Now that I know that, I can be aware of a small uptick, but not lose my marbles.  And again, that helps me to be aware and also stay motivated to keep the momentum going.

It's not easy to look at yourself and realize that deception has played a big role in your life.  It's especially difficult to realize that those deceptions were quite damaging.  How much heartache could I have avoided, if only I had been willing (and able) to take a cold hard look at the way things were - rather than relying on my brain to fill in the blanks?

Still, I suppose that's the point of this whole crazy exercise: to identify things that weren't working in my life and to replace them with things that do.

Self honesty ain't easy.  It sure ain't pretty.  But man, it really makes a difference.  Now, if I can just get that Thin Mint addiction under control, I will be in good shape.

Act 21: Watch a Horror Movie Alone

8:48 pm  Ok. I am doing this. Yea, I know the kids are here, but that's ok. They are sleeping and technically. I am watching alone. Now, what movie to watch?

Blair Witch Project?  I've wanted to see that, but I've read about it, so not an authentic experience.

Haunting in Connecticut 2?  I can't possibly watch that without seeing the first one!

Paranormal Activity 4?  Same thing!  Who jumps right to the sequel?

8:50pm. No slasher films. That's just gross. 

8:51pm. SHARKNADO!

8:52pm. Sanity regained. I'm going for scary, not ridiculous. No Sharknado. 

8:55pm. OK. The Amazon Gods have spoken. It will be...

The Amityville Horror

8:57pm. Let's do this!  I'm ready!  Creepy kids singing. Good start. And that house just looks evil.

8:58pm. Gah!  Bloody bodies in the first minute !?  Are you kidding me??

9:05pm. Not ready for flashbacks! Gah!  And how is it the real estate agent doesn't know the history of this house??

And $80K for a 4 bedroom house. Good gracious. 

9:08pm. So they know about the history and they are still buying?  Idiots!

9:12pm  I'm totally not freaked out by the phantom giggling. Nope. Not me. 

9:15pm. Demonic voice tells priest to "Get out."  Sir, yes sir.  

9:21pm. Scary music coinciding with the heat coming on right over my head!?  Not cool.

9:28pm. They only show a dog if he's going to play a part in the plot. I'm worried for the dog.  

9:40pm. I think I need to check my email.  Or something.  Distraction. Yes. Distraction is my friend. 

9:48pm. Aaaaw damn. Babysitter locked in the closet. Phantom rocking chair. Imaginary friend. This is so not cool. 

10:01pm. George isn't looking so good.  

10:03pm. AAARRAAAGGHHH!  Red eyed flies!  The door blew off!  Tighty whiteys!  I'm freaking out here. 

10:04pm. Time to read the Wikipedia article on this damned movie. 

10:14pm. Why is there no plot summary in this article???  Everything it mentions has already happened!!  Except "things come to a head and drives the family to flee."  This is not good. 

10:18pm. Fuck fuck fuck. Scary glowing eyes at the window. I may or may not have screamed out loud and scared the cats off. Now who's going to protect me???

10:21pm. Thank God for bad 70's acting. Definitely makes this easier to take. 

10:28pm. Inverted crucifix. Do it yourself exorcism. Oh damn. I think I need to play some Trivia Crack. 

10:32pm. The creepy music is back. And the priest is blind. This is not good. 

10:35pm. Criminy. On top of all the craziness, you dream your husband's killing everyone with an ax?  It's time to move.

10:39pm. Thank goodness for the priest subplot. I appreciate the comic relief. 

10:45pm. It's stormy and George has his ax. This is not a good thing. Who the hell is Amy?  

10:48pm. I hate it when the walls bleed. 

10:50pm. It counts as watching if I'm hiding under the blanket, right?  Right?  I'm in the room. I can hear what's going on. 

10:52pm. See?  I should have gotten a dog.  These damned cats would not pull me out of the gate to hell. 

10:54pm. The end.  Phew. 

Ok. So. That's done. All in one sitting too! 

Time to go smear the jello on the floor and call it a night. 

Act 36: Adopt a Shelter Animal

My whole life, I've owned (been owned by?) cats.  I like their self-sufficiency and relative calm.  I always imagined having a dog would be like having an additional child - that slobbers on you, barks all the time, and ruins your outfit when it jumps up on you.  

But, since I'm into do courageous things and breaking out of my comfort zone, I decided I was going to get a dog.

Of course, I did my research.  A friend recommended the books of Cesar Milan, and so I spent a fair bit of time reading his website in preparation.  I made my shopping list:  kennel, leash, poop bags, etc.  I researched training classes.  I was finally ready to go pick out my dog.

I had been creeping on the Durham Animal Protection Society's list of adoptable dogs for quite some time.  APS is great because they have a professional who comes in to evaluate their dogs' temperament, strengths and weaknesses in order to match their dogs with the best homes.  This did a lot to put my mind at ease.   I knew I'd need one that was pretty chill, could stand being crated while I was at work, would enjoy going for walks, but not go berserk if he didn't get tons of exercise, and was good with kids.  I didn't have the first clue on how to train puppy, so the dog would have to be at least two. 

After my research was done, I went one afternoon to APS to pick out my dog.  t I must have walked up and down the aisle between the kennels for 30 or so minutes.  The information provided was helpful, but it was A LOT to take in!  In the end, I interviewed three different dogs and settled on Gena - a 3 year old Beagle mix.  She was lovely, sweet, docile, and affectionate.  I hesitated about putting down a deposit without Gena meeting The Boy and The Girl, so I made plans to bring them the following day.

I couldn't wait to get home to tell them!

I picked them up after school that day and announced,  "Your wish has finally come true!  We are going to the animal shelter to pick out a pet!"

They were ecstatic!   "We are getting kittens!?  Really!?"

Um... well...  

"Yes!  Yes we are."

How could I argue with them when they were so very excited?  So, that's how my dog ended up being two kittens.

Mittens and Blossom await their dinner.

I still haven't given up on getting a dog.  

  

Act 17: Attend a Painting Class

Some of the acts on my list are going to require careful planning, and some... well, some of them you just have to jump on when the feelings strikes.  That was this act.  I was doing some research into some of the painting classes that are offered in the area when I saw a sign. 

A friendly little owl.  Being taught in a painting class.  That night.  

I immediately signed up for the class at Cheers N Paint in Cary's MacGregor Village.

As I made my way into the wilds of Cary, I got a message to call the teacher of the class.  Turns out, the other group who had signed up changed their reservation.  I was going to be the only person in the class.  Did I want to reschedule?

My feeling was No way!  But I hesitated.  Did I want to put someone out just for me?  Was I going to be causing trouble for the instructor?  Would it be inconvenient for someone?  Yes.  A little it was, but I had already paid for the class, and I was halfway there.  It had been a bit of a stressful day, and I was really looking forward to it.  Not to go would be a major disappointment.  So I checked my hesitation, and said "Yes.  I am perfectly happy to be the only person in the class.  I'm on my way, and I will see you in a bit."

And... amazingly... The world did not end!

When I arrived, I met Rima - the owner and artistic force behind the studio.  She was very welcoming and kind.  I was a little worried that she might be a bit huffy over my insistence to carry on, but it was quite the opposite.  She was delightful!

Since I was the only student, I got to choose the painting I wanted to tackle.  And while it was the owl who led me there, I found myself most drawn to a beautiful pool of water lilies.  

I've played with paint before, but never had any real instruction, so I was a little hesitant to try to paint something that looks like something.  Rima had sketched in the basic shapes in advance, so I picked my colors, picked up a brush and was on my way!

I have to say the two hours I spent there were just wonderful.  Rima and I chatted about this and that while we worked together.  Occasionally, she would come around and offer me some pointers on technique, and once or twice she very graciously helped me fine tune the shapes I was going for.  

Viola!  Art!

I got so absorbed in the act of making art that I forgot to worry about the issues that had been troubling my mind all week.  There was nothing but the brush, the paint, the canvas, and me.

I'm glad I didn't defer when the question of to go or not to go came up.  I ended up having a lovely experience with personal attention and have a piece of art to show for it.

It's crazy.  Every time I stand up for myself, it gets a little bit easier.  And so far, each time has led me to an experience even better that what I was aiming for.  Watch out, World!  A more spontaneous and impulsive Rhonda is on the way - right after I block out the time on my calendar.

Rima and her creation

CHEERS N PAINT

MacGregor Village, 107 Edinburgh S. Dr., Suite 115, Cary, NC 27511919-903-5223  Cheersnpaint@gmail.com

Act 37: Become Financially Independent

Now, I know conventional wisdom says it's not polite to talk about money.  Whether it's out of fear of being judged for not having a lot of it or not being good with it or worry about sounding like a braggart if you DO have a lot of it, most people I know don't discuss their finances.

That's a real shame, in my opinion.  Especially because in school, there is not much taught about personal finance.  And while my mom was very diligent about setting me up with a savings account as a kid, we never really talked much about budgeting, living within one's means, and saving to meet financial goals.

I grasped the concept of a monthly budget early on with my high school job, but beyond that I was lost.

My feeling was if I can afford the monthly payment, it's all good!  So, credit card bills, payment-plan purchases and other "it seemed like a good idea at the time" disasters started to pile up.  I found myself in quite a bit of debt.

After college, I learned some good habits from my then-husband - things like reducing meals out to save money, investing in retirement, and the importance of equity, but it fell to me to manage our day-to-day spending - and I was a disaster.

I'm fortunate that I have friends who were willing to discuss their financial management systems with me.  We never got into numbers - because as we said, that's rude - but I did learn some "best practices".   However, it wasn't until my friend Amber introduced me to the concept of a financial planner did things start to turn around.

My thinking was always I don't make enough money to hire a financial advisor.  Boy was I wrong about that!  When I started working with my financial advisor, Brenda Dobrick, we had a nearly $10K debt, with two kids and two incomes.  With her guidance and some careful planning, that completely turned around in a little less that two years.

After my marriage ended, I found myself as the sole provider for my family.  Going out on my own was extremely scary.   My chosen profession is not known for making a person rich, so I knew I was going to have to be very cautious about spending, saving,and planning.  I  was fortunate to find You Need a Budget - the most brilliant website that broke down the process of personal finance in very simple terms.  In fact, their entire philosophy comes down to four simple principals.  Rather than lecture on them (and believe me, I can go on and on about them) I will say that this approach changed by financial life.  Suddenly, keeping track of my money wasn't a daunting chore.  It was easy, and I began to see results quickly.

The final piece of financial independence came when I recently refinanced my home - all by myself.  I had never navigated to waters of mortgages, insurance and escrow (Oh my!) and it was daunting.  However, with the help of my friendly neighborhood credit union, it rather painlessly became a reality.

It's a scary thing to know that everything rests on me now, but at the same time, it's extremely empowering.  Also empowering is the realization that I don't have to make six figures to live a happy, secure and fulfilling life.

To me financial independence doesn't mean being able to buy anything you want whenever you feel like it.  It means being free to live your life in a meaningful way - without money being a major focus or a major obstacle. And while like most Americans, I am one major illness away from financial ruin, I feel tremendously blessed to have my needs and the needs of my children met.  That freedom gives me to opportunity to go out and live - modestly and within my means - but meaningfully and on my own terms.

The Elephant [Not] In the Room

You know the game you play with Fortune Cookies?  The one where you take the fortune you get and add a silly phrase like in bed or between the sheets to it much to the amusement of all?

I feel like this list has an unspoken phrase at the end of each item.  This has become the elephant in the room - maybe of my own imagining, but nonetheless.  Every time I read an item on the list, I seem to mentally add the dreaded phrase....

Without a man.


As in:
1.  Publicly admit that I am turning 40 without a man.
2. Publicly and openly blog about my experiences, challenges, triumphs and failures along the way without a man.

What gives with that?  Is this my imagination?  Why does it feel that THAT'S the biggest Act of Courage on  the list?

This is the first time in my adult life that I've been completely on my own - with no husband, no boyfriend, no friend with benefits, nothing.  It's just me.  Why is that so terrifying?

I look at my single girlfriends, especially those who have been single for extended amounts of time, and I am in awe.  I had no idea the kind of pressure that exists for a woman trying to make it on her own.

It's a daily job to remind myself that not having a romantic partner is NOT a disability and that not being in a relationship is NOT a sign of failure.

That's insanity, but it happens.  Almost every day.  Some days: multiple times.

I would NEVER put that kind of insanity on my friends.  And I certainly can't imagine saying to The Girl one day, "Well honey, you are pretty great, but you would be SO MUCH BETTER if you had a man."

So why do I do it to myself?

And more importantly, what am I going to do about it?

Make no mistake - this is not a lamentation.  It's an observation.  And I suppose the answer to "What am I going to do about it?" is to feel it, acknowledge it, own it, and then IGNORE IT.  Because while I find men to be completely lovely (some more than others ;-) ), I am complete without one.

And THAT'S the only elephant that's getting peanuts from me.

Recovering Perfectionist

Hi.  I'm Rhonda, and I'm a perfectionist.

I can't put my finger on the point when this started, but it's been a part of who I am for a very, very, very long time.

My perfectionism became a problem for me early on in life, because as a kid, I messed up.  A lot.  I would hide dirty dished under the couch, not clean my room when told, ignored my homework, was a bully to my friends, waited until the last minute to do projects.  Disgraceful.

It continued to plague me through high school and college, because as a student, I messed up.  A lot.  I fell short of goals, missed deadlines, said insensitive things to my friends, didn't do my chores.  Shameful.

I thought I had the problem conquered when I ended up in a great career that I was very good at.  But I kept messing up.  I yelled at students, let papers needing grading sit for days at a time,  half-assed lesson plans, let my teammates and colleagues down.  Despicable.

I held out hope that I would not be bothered with this problem as a wife and mother, but I messed up.  Every day.  Multiple times a day.  I yelled at my kids, neglected the laundry, was sarcastic to my husband, spent too much money, ignored the maintenance on the car.  Reprehensible.

I tried to hide my mistakes under a veneer of confidence and humor, and when that didn't work, I used distraction.  I figured if I could anticipate the needs of every person I ever came into contact with, and met those needs single-handedly, then they wouldn't see what I was so desperate to keep hidden.  Clearly the only thing worse than HAVING flaws was SHOWING them.  It seemed like a solid plan at the time!  All I had to do was be everything to everyone.  Sounds legit.

And for a while, I thought I was pulling it off!  I was convinced I had everyone fooled.  Many folks didn't see, and those who did loved me too much or were too polite to point out the obvious flaws in the veneer.  (You have to love the South: "That Rhonda... Bless her heart.")

But here's the problem with denying imperfections.  You get so used to lying to yourself about them, that it becomes easy to lie to yourself about other things too.  And you forget that the purpose in life is not to produce a beautiful, flawless work of art; it's to get messy and learn while doing it.  So you  don't learn.  Or you learn the wrong things.  And you don't grow.  Or you grow the kind of habits that are destructive.  And you get stuck.

I'm proud to say I'm not stuck anymore.  Or maybe I'm just not SO stuck, because I find that I'm frustrated that it is taking so long to figure all this stuff out.  Why haven't you cracked this code yet, Rhonda?  But then I remember that that frustration is just the sneaky voice of Perfectionism talking.  (She's a wily one, you have to admit.)

So when I find myself composing my next entry in my head, I have to stop myself.
When I find myself wondering what people who read this will think about it, I have to stop myself.
When I start to berate myself for not getting stuff done fast enough or elegantly enough, I have to stop myself.

This process is messy.  It's inelegant.  It's clumsy.  It's slow.  And so am I.

And I don't care who knows it!
Kind of.
Mostly.
More every day.

It's a process.

A slow one.

But I will get there.
Eventually.

Act 14: Go to a Meet-up Where I Know No One

After this morning's misadventure, I was determined to not let this child-free weekend slip by without conquering at least one thing on my list. 

 I came back to the house and immediately started looking for a new Meet-up.  Martial arts?  Soon, but not yet.  Hiking?  Tempting, but I'd much rather take a nap.  After a thorough search (and by thorough, I mean scanning for meet-ups that were happening today within a 15 mile radius), I landed on something that sounded intriguing:  Triangle Dances of Universal Peace.

Hmmm...  

Now I admit, I signed up for this meet-up mainly because there were only 12 people who had RSVPed and they were all women.  Reading the description, they sounded like a nice, inviting, non-judgmental group, so I signed up, and went to take my nap.

As the time drew near, I had to figure out what one wears to a dance of universal peace?  Is it like contra dancing?  Yoga?  Who knows!?  Judging

For dancing, a swishy skirt is a must.

from the description, it seemed pretty New Age-y.  After living in Asheville for 3 years,  I was somewhat familiar with the new age uniform  (long skirt, layered tops, thick socks, clogs, long necklace), so I went for something in that vein.  (Thanks to Melissa N. for helping me hash out the wardrobe issues.)


I pulled up at the Durham Friends Meeting House with trepidation.  There were a few cars parked on the street, but the building was dark.  Where was everyone?  I walked around the side of the building and saw a cheerfully lit social hall.  Apparently, I was in the right place.  I was resolute, given the experience of the morning, but still nervous at walking in to a strange place full of strange people.  I needn't have worried.

When I arrived, the group was cleaning up after a potluck dinner, and the ladies who were buzzing around the kitchen greeted me warmly.  There was a group of about 30 people - men and women of all ages - milling around, finishing dinner.  I saw two women about my age sitting on the periphery and asked if I could join them.  They were gracious and kind, also relatively new to the group, and happy to chat for a bit.

Soon the tables were cleared and musicians - two guitarists, a cellist, a drummer - sat in the middle of the room.  All the participants gathered in a circle around them and simply began to walk - slowly and quietly - in a circle around the musicians.  It was quite something to be in a group of what was now 40+ people, and have them almost instantly go silent.  The dance leader led us in a guided imagery - reminding us that humans had been walking in packs and tribes, together since the beginning of our existence.  There definitely was a palpable energy in the room as we all moved around - separately and together.

After a few moments of this, we came back to a circle and each person gave their name.  After introductions, the dancing began.

The songs were simple - usually built around a brief chant or phrase from Hebrew, Hindi or Arabic. The dances were also relatively simple.  We did two variations of a hora and even a partner dance.  The dances were in turn meditative and joyful, raucous and somber.  Each dance was punctuated by a moment of silence, intended to give all participants an opportunity to reflect on the effects the movement had.  There were interludes when we were asked to be seated while a participant read short poems from the Sufi poet, Rumi and other spiritual writers.  (Rumi happens to be one of my favorites, and I was delighted to hear some new selections.)  And after each reading, we were again given time to think and reflect on the meaning of the words.

As the evening wound down, one of the leaders told the story of a vision she had as she searched for the Divine Goddess, Hokmah.  That seemed like a good time to make my exit, so as the group danced slowly around the room, I made my way to the door and slipped out into the night.

As I walked back to my car, I did feel peaceful.  It was quite a wonderful feeling to know that while I didn't ascribe to the beliefs and attitudes on the group, they still welcomed me to spend some time with them.  And I found that my thoughts were much less snarky and smug that they usually are.  Perhaps my time there did open my heart?  At any rate, it was an evening well spent.

In the end, this act of courage was less about going somewhere unfamiliar and more about being open to a different way of seeing, thinking, and being in a non-judgmental way.  As I drove home, I found myself feeling thankful for the morning's failure, because it led me to this community I doubt I would have found otherwise.

Things don't have to be perfect to be meaningful.  As Rumi says, "Take sips of this pure wine being poured, even though you've been given a dirty cup." 

 Someone, please pass that bottle.  I am ready to drink deeply.

Act 14: FAIL

Today we get to see the down side of vowing to capture this experience openly and publicly.  Sometimes, you have to look like an ass.

When I conceived of this idea, I had visions of myself triumphantly completing each item on the list with efficiency, grace and style.  I knew I would fail at one or two, but was expecting that.  Had played those out in my head.  I had already even thought about how I would capture them with the most clever self deprecating humor and wit.

So when  I found myself sitting in the parking lot of the location of today's Meetup, unable to make myself go in, it hit on me.  This is not flattering at all.  There is no graceful way to capture this.  This is not courageous.  There's no way I can possibly write about this.  I will look like an ass.

All the more reason to write about it, I suppose.

Granted, I had good reason for today's hiccup.  It was not just because of cold feet.  There were extenuating circumstances!  The challenge was to attend a meet-up where I don't know anyone and today's meeting would have been ineligible for that.  And while I did due diligence to avoid an uncomfortable situation, it didn't work.  So this doesn't count.

That's one of the things I'm telling myself.

I'm also going with: It's better to give the space necessary and Your presence could have made an uncomfortable situation.

The truth is that there is nothing I wanted more than to go in.  But I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.

I don't care if it does make me look like an ass.

Act 6: Expose the Kids to Some Culture

Anyone with children knows that it takes courage to take your kids almost anywhere.  When they are little, it's the load of accessories that make it almost impossible to just pop out somewhere.  Between the diapers, the change of clothes, snacks, bottles, pacifiers, toys, etc. etc. etc. - every outing feels like you are heading out for a trek into the Himalayas.

As they get a little older, the physical load gets lighter, but the mental one grows.  People expect little babies to make a fuss, but the general public tends to frown upon small children who disturb the peace.  And I always refused to be one of those parents who took their kids where ever they felt like and inflicted their "colorful" behavior on the adult world.  No, I don't think it's adorable when my child disrupts everyone's dinner with songs from the kids show du jour sung at the top of their lungs.  Keeping them quiet is nearly impossible, and I just couldn't take the stress.

What that means is that I spent the better part of the last 11 years or so keeping the kids at home.  I occasionally ventured out to stuff on my own, but I never really dared to take The Boy or The Girl to anything cultural.

Until now!

When I found myself with an extra ticket to see Wicked at Durham Performing Arts Center, I initially asked a dear friend to go.  However, I let it slip to The Girl that I was going, and she almost lost her stuff.  She'd been listening to the soundtrack her whole life, and really wanted to see it.  I hesitated, smelling the potential for disaster, but...  since I'm in the business of being courageous these days, I changed my plans and said yes.  (I still owe you a night out KNay!)

To say it was a wonderful night is a monumental understatement!

Note the ruby slippers!

All week, The Girl insisted on me calling her "Elphie."  (I was "Glindy" - in case you were wondering.)  We listened to to the soundtrack while she followed along, reading the lyrics in The Grimmerie.  On the big day, she got all dolled up, and ready for a night at the theatre.

We narrowly avoided disaster when I forgot the tickets at home and had to double back. On Hwy 55.  During RTP rush hour.  Luckily,  we had a nice cushion of time.  Once we had the tickets safely in hand, we headed to dinner.

The Girl requested Greek food for dinner.  (Huh?)  So, we went to my favorite Greek restaurant.  She reminded me that this is the kind of place where you have to have manners, and she behaved

See?  Adorable!

beautifully.  Over dinner, she was so so animated and excited, every person in the place seemed to be commenting on how adorable she was.  (I'm biased, but now I have empirical evidence of her adorableness!!)    She even sang a little duet with one of the servers, and was rewarded with a pack of wiki stix.  I would come to call them the Wiki Stix of

Destiny, because they play a role in the night's adventure.  After a stop at the World's Smelliest Bathroom (The Girl's designation, not mine), it was time to go!

We made our way to the theatre, and arrived just in time to take a few photos, browse the playbill and settle in.  The Girl was a little nervous about the Time Dragon sitting atop the stage, and in her defense, that thing was a little scary!

The Girl and the Time Dragon

As the strains of the first song started, she let out a little gasp, and grabbed my hand.  I don't know which I watched more during those first few moments: the stage or the little girl next to me.  I've never loved another person as much as I loved her at that moment, sitting next to me just awash in joy.  It was a gift I shall always treasure.  During the entire first act, The Girl sang along (under her breath at a very appropriate volume) to all the songs.  She clung to my hand for the first 30 minutes or so out of excitement.  As Act 1 went on, she got a little fidgety and began to sculpt a flower from the Wiki Stix of Destiny.  She whispered to me that she was making it for Elphaba.  I gave her a little squeeze and went back to watching the show.

Act 1 ends with The Girl's favorite song: "Defying Gravity," and when the house lights came up for intermission, she was still clapping. The kind people around us smiled at her as we made our way out to the lobby.  (Apparently she wasn't singing as quietly as I thought, but they all seemed amused, rather than annoyed.) She showed me the flower she had made, tucked it into her little purse and grabbed my hand.  She had seen a photo of cupcakes in the program, and wanted to investigate.

We found ourselves waiting for the elevators down to the lobby with a very nice gentleman.  He commented on the The Girl's green bow, and asked what her favorite part of the show was.

"I like Elphaba," she whispered, suddenly shy.

"If you can keep a secret, I will tell you one," the gentleman replied.  The Girl nodded, and he whispered to her, "I'm Elphaba's daddy."

The Girl blinked at me and back at the gentleman.  She grabbed for her purse to pull out the flower she had made and asked to him if he would give the flower to her.  But he did better than that!

Mr. Bob gave us instructions on where to meet him after the show, and said that she could deliver the flower to Elphaba (Laurel Harris) in person!

After a purchase from the souvenir stand (a plush Time Dragon puppet, of course), we went back to our seats for Act 2.  It was wonderful, and she barely fidgeted at all.  During the final Glinda/Elphaba song, "For Good," she cuddled up next to me and took my hand again, singing along.  My proud mommy heart almost busted at that, but I managed to hold it together.  At the curtain call, she leapt out of her seat to give the two leading ladies a standing ovation.

The Wizard (John Davidson) and The Girl! 

We made our way down the stairs, and were excited to find The Wizard, collecting donations for Broadway Cares.  After a photo with The Wizard, The Girl started to waver.  She was feeling shy, she wanted to go home.  She was too afraid to meet Elphaba.  In the past, I would have pushed, cajoled and pretty much forced her to go - but the night had been so wonderful, I decided to relax and follow the child.  I helped her bundle up into her coat, and got ready to venture out into the night.

"You know, mommy, I'm not feeling so scared now," she said to me as I buttoned my coat.  "I think I'm ready to meet Elphaba."

Woo hoo!!

We headed down the secret hallway that the kind gentleman had directed us to, and found a small group of people waiting.  Occasionally a cast member would walk by on their way backstage after their collecting was finished.  Eventually our friend, Mr. Bob appeared and told the others how he had met The Girl at the elevator and about her sweet gift for his daughter.  We chatted for a bit, and then, Ms. Harris came from backstage.

Mr. Bob called The Girl up, and introduced her to his daughter.  The two ladies chatted for a moment, The Girl presented her gift, and we shared how much both of us enjoyed the show.  Ms. Harris invited us to step backstage for a photo, and then it was time to go home.

The Girl and I practically ran the whole way back to the car.  She was chattering away about all she'd seen and done, and I just grinned.  I couldn't have planned a better evening for us.

As I tucked her into bed, I told her that my favorite part of the night was her act of courage.  She was nervous about going back to meet Elphaba, but she overcame that.  I was so proud.

Her most memorable part of the night?  The World's Smelliest Bathroom.

I love that girl.

Act 2: Publicly and Openly Blog This Experience

Why does this have to be a public act?  Am I doing these acts as a kind of stunt to show the world how amazing and cool I am?

Umm... no.  Besides, why would anyone care if I went to a Meet-up all by myself?  That's hardly riveting news.

This has to be a public act for me.  I have to be accountable and transparent.   You see, everyone has an inner critic.  You know - that little voice in the back of your brain that points out every little thing that you did wrong, how it could have been

 better, and how any other halfway competent person could have done it 1000 time better?   Well, I don't just have a single critic.  I have an entire critical review board.  And those bitches are TOUGH!

My Critical Review Board (CRB) insists that we have a very carefully cultivated image to present to the world.  Nothing ugly, unflattering, or messy is allowed to show unless it is absolutely necessary. We wouldn't want people to think you're not 100% together, would we?

I was so used to my CRB that I'd learned to anticipate their feedback and adjust accordingly.  In fact, I most days I felt like I was living Rhonda's Life - The Expurgated Version.  And I guess that was OK.  Until it wasn't.

I found myself in a situation where only the unfiltered and authentic version of me would do.  And try as I might, I couldn't seem to conjure the real thing.  My CRB wouldn't allow it!  What's more, I started to see evidence of a CRB in both The Boy and The Girl.  And while I could tolerate those meddling bitches hacking away at me, NOBODY messes with my babies.

But there's more to it than that!  See, the CRB also likes to downplay the positive stuff: the successes, the high points, and the things that go right.  There are many, many things I do well, and there are many, many high points in this life of mine. One wouldn't want to get lazy and rest on her laurels, of course, so  the CRB tries to minimize success.  

It has to go.

So the purpose of Act 2 is to shut down the CRB.  Life is messy.  Being real is messy.  And sometimes mess can be downright glorious.  By forcing myself to acknowledge all the parts: the good, the bad, the ugly, the boring, the inelegant, and the clumsy, I take away the power the CRB has to lord those weaknesses over me. I am creating record of my achievements and failures - in writing - that the CRB cannot argue against.

So this is my quest to be ruthless, relentless, and inevitable.  To quiet down that inner CRB, so I can get down to the business of being real.

Act 1: Public Admission

Ok, I admit it.  I am turning 40.

This is not an earth-shattering revelation.   It's  not even that great an accomplishment!  It's been done, and done well, by a whole pack of people much more important, fascinating, insightful and braver that I am.

 But this is a big step for me.  And I wanted to mark it with some significance.

In the last 39.5 years, I have become a lot of things.  At this point in my life, I thought I should be able to answer the question

Who are you, Rhonda?

with a fair bit of authority.  

After all, I have been a lot of things in that time: A wife.  A mother.  A daughter.  A teacher.  A student.  An adult.  A critic.  A nerd.  A friend.  An inquirer.  A questioner.

But as I look toward the horizon of this 40th year, I don't have a good answer for the question.  So this seemed like a good time to find out.

I spent the last 5 years or so ruling out things.  I can tell some things I definitely am NOT.  But the question of who I AM lingers.  One thing I have been for quite a long time was afraid.  I have let fear of rejection, of rocking the boat, of putting people off rule my life to too long now.

It's time to stop worrying about how I will be judged when I speak my mind.  It's time to show my true feelings.  It's time to BE who I AM.

Now, to figure that out.

Introducing... The List!

When I decided to take on this challenge, I did what any self-respecting 21st citizen of the world would do.  I posed the question to my friends on social media.  The suggestions started rolling in.  I had to smile because my friends are my friends for a reason.  Many of the suggestions were things I had already jotted down.  Some of them were bizarre, daring, even dangerous.  They were all telling. Many of them appear on the list below.

Incidentally, when I mentioned this quest to The Boy and The Girl, we had to have a nice, detailed conversation on the difference between being courageous and downright foolhardy.  (Their suggestion?  Jump off the roof of the house. )

The list I originally generated had way more than 40 Acts on it, because who doesn't need more courageous acts in her life?  Many were combined or culled.  I went for a balance of short-term and long-term acts.  Pricey and inexpensive ones.  Big ones and little ones.  Internal shifts and external activities.  And ultimately I ended up with 40 things I'm going to do to challenge myself.

Here goes...

The List

1. Publicly admit that I am turning 40.
2. Publicly and openly blog about my experiences, challenges, triumphs and failures along the way. 
3. Tackle an intimidating classic work of fiction.
4. Get an astrological/psychic reading done.
5. Learn a new language and then try it out.
6. Expose the kids to some culture.
7. Do a police ride along.
8. Host a multi-course fancy dinner party.
9. Make a lemon meringue pie from scratch, including the crust.
10. Get a tattoo.
11. For one week, track everything I eat, spend, consume.  
12. Get a wax.
13. Go camping.
14. Go to a meetup where I know no one. 
15. Go zip lining or indoor skydiving.
16. Take a Segway tour.
17. Attend a painting class.
18. Try a martial arts class.  (Krav Maga, anyone?)
19. Celebrate a holiday all by myself.
20. Speak up for what I believe in.
21. Watch a horror movie alone.
22. Wear a bikini to the beach.
23. Go salsa dancing.
24. Perform a poem at a slam or tell a story at the Monti.
25. Finish and publish a writing piece.
26. Travel somewhere I have never been before.
27. Take a ballroom dance lesson (or two) on my own.
28. Try square dancing.
29. Do a cleanse or a fast (or both!).
30. Eat vegetarian (maybe vegan) for a week.
31. Get a mammogram.
32. Say no to someone powerful.
33. Install a new toilet in my house.
34. Turn off my iPhone.
35. Cook dinner for families at Ronald McDonald house.
36. Adopt a shelter animal.
37. Become financially independent.
38. For a week, live off the amount of money a family living at the poverty line has.
39. Forgive and seek forgiveness.
40. Stop living my life as if I'm auditioning for a better part.