FOMO NOMO?

FOMO: fear of missing out

A fairly new acronym for me. It was used quite often in the recent mania regarding the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale. I read all the blog posts. I even bought something: a set of underwear for Frugal Son.

I get excited by sales as much as the next person. Probably more. I was raised by two sale-addicted parents. I am, in fact, writing this while taking a break from my on-going and inefficient efforts to declutter.

BUT--back to FOMO. As a little experiment, I put some of the most-touted items from the Anniversary Sale on my Nordstrom Wishlist. Guess what?

Though most of the items sold out, many have now reappeared...at even lower prices. The two Brahmin bags, the two Longchamp bags, various sweaters: all are now 50% off. One sweater I coveted is 65% off.

They are, of course, selling out even as I type. Still, seeing that Wishlist helped me a lot. I can wait till next year.

Why Keep Working?

The Great Recession knocked down the stock portion of my retirement accounts by almost 50% and led to the firing of the three tenured French teachers. In a panic, I discovered the Firecalc site (Financial Independence/Retire Early??) and learned from their easy to use calculator that even with my much-diminished accounts and even if both Mr FS and I  were let go because our program was eliminated, we WOULD NOT END UP DEAD in the STREETS. We would have a very, very, very  humble retirement, to be sure, but we would NOT DIE in some Dickensian institution for the impoverished.

That comforted me. Fast forward, and--though no raises in all that time--we are still working and our equity portions have, as they say, recovered. Also we now have a combined age of 124, rather than a combined age of 110. Our life expectancy has--perforce--gone down. So a fairly humble retirement probably looms, but not as humble as it looked in 2008-09.

The people who post on Firecalc are either eager to retire ASAP or ecstatic to have done so. Many seem to be or have been highly paid folks in IT, engineering, and so on. Some even had a stock option windfall. WORK is a dirty word on the site and is humorously typed as w*rk.

Then, while goofing around recently, I read some blogs that I don't usually visit. A common theme was  the lack of structure and meaning in retirement. And that is precisely why I keep working: not just because of the structure and meaning (teaching is meaningful work however you slice it), but because of the goofing around.

I should mention that because of serious budget issues (Great Recession again), there are no classes on Friday--to save on energy. Hence our schedule. We teach two VERY LONG DAYS a week, and can then do the rest of our work at home. And, since we don't teach in the summer (we are FRUGAL), we have a lot of flexibility there too. I think if we were working 50 weeks a year, 5 days a week, I would be longing to retire.

Another thing: teaching is like a mortgage. When I began, I was always in a panic. I would read twenty articles to figure out how to teach a little sonnet. Now I know how to teach many, many things. And teaching new things is not an occasion for so much anxiety. The time I spent in preparation a long time ago has "paid off" after all these years.

So why keep working? If I retired, I would have to find meaningful pastimes. Every day. I would goof around too much. I would feel guilty.

As it is, the meaning and purpose are taken care of by my job. In between tasks, I can goof around without (too much) guilt. I can even write a blog post. 

Thrift Store Treasures: Reality Check

The wonderful Hostess of the Humble Bungalow made a visit to my blog (so honored to have her). She left a comment to the effect that I must have the best thrift stores in the whole wide world. Time for a reality check.

Interestingly (and I think related, so bear with my rambling), Hostess was hit with a blog comment of the nasty kind, jeering at the lovely life she chronicles in her blog. According to the anonymous commenter, Hostess had things so easy blahblahblah. Hostess, of course, responded with the truth: that a blog leaves a lot of stuff out. In her case, she chooses to feature the beauty in everyday life. She omits a lot. The blog is not one's WHOLE life.

In a similar vein--though not, thankfully, responding to nasty comments--I have to say that the thrift store treasures I mention now and then are the highlights of many, many hours of mostly fruitless wandering. It is a wandering I find pleasurable, though I would probably go a lot less if I didn't find a lot of things needed by family and friends. Most of what I find is very workaday stuff (potholders for Frugal Son's new abode, for instance).

So here is an incomplete accounting.

I started going to thrift stores around 1980 in Bloomington, first to clothe myself and then to make a bit of money to replace my TA income. I then moved to Houston, where the thrift stores were too far from where I--carless--lived. There were incredible yard sales (I lived in a prosperous area), but Houston is full of very poor people, so the competition was tremendous. I then moved to a small town in Michigan, with a little college in the midst of a town decimated by factory closings. The thrift store was--not surprisingly--incredibly depressing. Then I moved to a small town in Indiana, with a surprisingly good thrift store (though it was the most disgusting thrift store I have ever seen). One summer, I was in a seminar in Evanston, which had probably the best thrift stores I have ever frequented (combo of  extremely affluent college students--transient population--and extremely affluent residents). And now I'm near New Orleans.

Here are the high points of my acquisition, in no particular order:

--the recent cache of Italian stuff (Pucci, Dolce, Leger, Missoni)
--a Chloe dress which amazingly fits my daughter (featured on blog a while back)
--2 vintage Gucci bags (little fabric GG ones, with stripes)
--1 alligator Mark Cross vintage bag (WHERE IS IT???)
--Hermes scarf (Feux de route)
--Hermes cashmere sweater
--Dries van Noten blazer and cashmere sweater
--numerous lesser cashmere sweaters
--a Missoni sweater that my daughter wears (she looks good in orange)
--brown Chanel loafers
--maybe 5 Hermes ties and 5 Ferragamo ties

OK, that's perhaps 40 super-amazing items. In 34 years.  One-point-something PER YEAR.

St Patrick's Lost and Found: Geaux Saints

As we await our certified letter's redelivery, we continue to suffer dental stress and distress. How about St Patrick's Day (and the traditional New Orleans parade the Saturday preceding) as a stress-reliever? Celebrations were marked by things lost and found, but the stress of the lost was far outweighed by the de-stress and delight of the found. This is turning out to be a year of saintly interventions: I can now add St Patrick to St Anthony (the prayer of a thrift store customer to St Anthony led to immediate recovery of my grandmother's bracelet.) As the signs and tee shirts of football fandom proclaim in New Orleans:

THE LOST: The New Orleans St Patrick's Day parade is huge and noted for its throws: in addition to the usual beads and flowers, spectators vie for cabbages, potatoes, and carrots. So exciting! A frugal parade! Unfortunately, the parade was running rather late and Mr FS and I had to head home before the big floats with the cabbage-givers rolled by. Not to worry: we had Frugal Son in attendance. He wanted cabbage for his homemade kimchi, which is not a traditional Irish recipe. But Poor Frugal Son. He had a bag of seven cabbages. He walked a few steps away for a few seconds to say hello to a friend. When he turned around, the bag was gone. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

THE FOUND: As our group of four crossed Magazine Street en route to our chosen parade spot, I felt eyes upon me. I looked into the eyes of a young man. We were locked in a stare. Finally, he mouthed "Dr Frugal???" I ran over and he gave me a hug, reminding me that he had taken classes from me. I asked him to remind me of his name and he said "My name is Josh, but you always called me another name, which you said suited me better." As we walked away, I retrieved my memory from the file cabinet in my brain. Josh was a psychology major who took one of the dreaded (to many students) required literature courses. He was very smart and more interested than most. He fell in love with Paradise Lost and always vowed he would take a Milton course if it was offered while he was in school. A few years later, the course was offered and--lo and behold--there he was. He held his own with the advanced English majors too.

As we walked back from our stint at the parade, we came to Magazine Street once more. And there he was again. He came over and said "I always loved you as a teacher." And I said "I always loved you as a student." Another hug and then I remembered. I said, "Isn't funny? I always called you PATRICK."

LOST AND FOUND: A few years ago, I was whining in this very space about how I wanted a second Hermes scarf. Amazingly, a blogger with a beautiful spirit sent me one and, also amazing, it arrived on my birthday. The scarf was designed by Kermit Oliver, the only American to design Hermes scarves. When you read about him and view his artwork, it is clear that he too has a beautiful spirit. In addition to gifting the world with remarkable images, he has suffered tragedy beyond my efforts to process. Any powers of empathy I possess are not sufficient.

This scarf has come in handy. I wear it when I teach Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, whose plot hinges on the gift of a green scarf. I also wear it on St Patrick's Day. And when I looked for it in my scarf area, IT WAS NOT THERE. I looked and looked. Even though I am a certified slob, I always keep my two Hermes scarves in their place. This one is especially valued because of the giver and because of the artist.

I suffered through several hours before and after work of looking in various unlikely places. Then I found it. It had slipped from its spot (HOW???), crossed to the other side of a small closet, and ended up next to Mr FS's socks. Oh, how I hugged that precious piece of silk to me! Just like poor Sir Gawain, for whom, unlike for me, taking the scarf was a sin.

I'd say that in the LOST AND FOUND of St Patrick's celebrations, I have received much more than I lost. Frugal Son mentioned that the mom of one his friends might give him a few cabbages from her parade stash. So we may have kimchi after all.

A Gift from Alaska to Serbia: Thanks, Donna

Everyone knows that gifts are as wonderful to give as to receive. Miss Em, dear daughter, will be far away in Serbia (mostly Novi Paar) till at least  June. She is under the watchful eye of the Fulbright Program, but still...

She is a teaching assistant of English--and a bit embarrassed to be called Professor by one and all. She has been the recipient of much generosity, in a poor country (by US standards) where even highly skilled professionals (like doctors) cannot find employment.

Since I love to find stuff for people, I have been on high alert. I wrote about the gifts of a non-stick pan (about $70 in Serbia!) and Fidji perfume soon going off to their new homes in the suitcase (lent by yours truly) of Mr. C.

Now I'm looking for smaller things. So far, I have acquired Opi nail polish that was at a good price at Big Lots. I will be on the look out for small items from Bath and Body Works, which are coveted by many young women. And now: some handmade earrings from Alaska! How cool is that?

Thinking "How cool would that be--something from Alaska for someone in Novi Pazar?," I did something uncharacteristic: I entered a blog contest.  Donna Freedman's contest. Donna wrote a wonderful post several years ago on how one could live on $12,000 a year (or around that sum) and--NEWSFLASH--be happy. I can't seem to find that post anywhere, so instead will link to her current blog, which is the repository of much wisdom.

Must be karma. Thanks again Donna.

Can You Get Rich With Burritos?

Even though I read lots of blogs dealing with (supposedly) frivolous topics, I am at heart a frugal girl. Married--thank heavens--to a frugal guy. And the parent of--even more thank heavens--two frugal offspring.

As a frugal girl, I crave contact with other frugal types. Sadly, with the exception of my colleague Merton, I have no one to discuss such topics as "What is the best stock-up deal at Piggly Wiggly this week?" Yes, even though I am a teacher of literature and love to show my students how certain words reverberate through Hamlet, I find such discussions compelling.

Needless to say, the blogosphere was a godsend to frugal girl in search of frugal friends. Sadly, most of the frugality blogs seemed to devolve into "Make more money blogs" stuffed with ads for payday loans. Then I discovered Mr Money Mustache. Get it?

A lot of people must be in search of frugal friends, because his posts get 100 comments! He's a guy who saved 3/4 of his engineer's salary for about 10 years and retired. Not to sit around, but to do other stuff. And yes, he has a family. While I don't aspire to early retirement (in fact, MR FS and I are at the age OF retirement), I believe in frugality as a general principle. So I've been blissing out reading through his posts. Ahhhhhhhhh.

One of his themes is "Get rich with." Get rich with the library. Get rich with your bicycle. These are not new ideas. Even the great Amy D of Tightwad fame admitted there was nothing new under the frugal sun. But how much more compelling to say "Get rich with" rather than "Save money with."

I have some new frugal apprentices this year: Miss Em's friends Mr C and his roommate C. They are Americorps volunteers. Mr FS and I send Miss Em off with 100 frozen homemade bean and cheese burritos each semester. We learned last year that Mr C was eating a lot of them.

Guess what? Mr C is a very smart fellow, having achieved knockout scores on his SATs and--we hope--on the MCAT. He learned how to make burritos himself. Then C started eating them. Now they make burritos together.

Can you get rich with burritos? They cost around 30 cents a piece. If you eat two or three for dinner a few times a week instead of the usual more costly options, well...you do the math. I may ask Mr C to work it out: he majored in Economics.

A Gift from singlemomrichmom: Early Retirement Extreme

Waiting on my doorstep: a package from Canada. Hmmmmm. Yes! A book sent to me by the great blogger singlemomrichmom: her copy of the fascinating tome by the very interesting Jacob, of earlyretirementextreme.

I'm thrilled to have the book. Jacob brings the brains of a physicist to questions about how we might want to live. For a taste of his way of thinking: he has a post titled not How much do you need to retire, but How little do you need to retire?

I'm probably too old to retire very early, plus I like my job. Still, it's inspiring to see what one can do.

So thanks to Jacqjolie for her generosity. Check out her blog: it's a great read.

Be Patient, Please. Intermittent Internet Access for a Few More Days

Thanks. I am out in the boonies.