Spending to Save...A Contradiction? (Probably, But I Don't Care.)

The following conversation took place on our way to Sears to buy a new refrigerator.

Rowan: "I don't want to go shopping. Shopping is boring!"

Me: "I know you don't like shopping, Rowan, but we need to pick out our new refrigerator."

Rowan: "Why do we have to go today?"

Me: "Because if we buy a new refrigerator now, we can save $200. That's a lot of money!"

Kyle: "Yep. And if we don't buy a new refrigerator now, we'll save $1,000. That's even more money!"

He just had to point that out, didn't he? But he was only being a smart alec. Our old refrigerator — manufactured in 1990! — has seen better days. Saving $200 on something we planned to buy anyway is indeed a savings.

Now we're just counting the days until March 19, when our new refrigerator arrives! Can you believe it? No more duct tape!

Gettin' Cash for My Clunker of a Refrigerator

We got our appliance rebate reservation yesterday!

The Web site crashed, the phones were clogged and the service was amazingly lousy, but persistence paid off. If we buy a new refrigerator within the next 30 days (and recycle our old one), good old Uncle Sam will give us $200 for our trouble. Nice!

Which brings me to the real point of this post: EXTERNAL MOTIVATION!

We need that in this house. Big time.

I mean, really. You'd think we'd have had plenty of internal motivation to replace our refrigerator over the past two years.

Just look at it:

It has that "I used to be white, but no amount of scrubbing will ever again make me sparkle" thing going on. Lovely.

And then there's the duct tape. You see, the shelves fell apart the week after we moved in. Did we buy a new refrigerator? Nah. My MacGyver hubby simply fashioned a solution out of duct tape. I was thrilled, of course.

Oh, and I can't forget the freezer. We're now experts at balancing frozen pizzas "just so" in order to prevent them from slipping through the wire shelving. It's an important life skill, people!

But soon, all of this will be a distant memory. For we now have a little external motivation — and a deadline.

Thirty days.

Sweet!

HDTVs Are Expensive. Are They Worth It?

I'm still in shock after TV shopping this past weekend. Who knew that HDTVs were so expensive? (I realize that the correct answer here is everyone. Cut me some slack, OK?)

I expected a new TV to be moderately expensive. Kyle found some nice Samsungs on Amazon priced in the $600 – $900 range. Although I can't say I love those prices, they certainly don't surprise me.

But that was just the beginning.

On Sunday, we visited an electronics store to see the TVs in person. That's where we learned about a vast array of upcharges that are required to properly install and enjoy your new TV.

You need to buy special cords and a surge protector, of course. If you're hanging your TV on the wall, a mounting bracket is required. Oh, and you should really consider hiring a professional installer to hide the special cords behind your wall. If you're not hanging your new TV on the wall, you need to buy an HDTV stand — most of which look like bizarre, futuristic technology shrines.

Then there's the calibration fee.

Call me crazy (or maybe just out of touch), but I figured that an $800 HDTV would arrive ready to watch. Oh no! Apparently, the manufacturers don't calibrate the colors because — according to our sales guy — "they want to save on production time to bring down costs for the consumer."

Um...yeah. I'm sure that's it. Because a manufacturer doesn't pay a third-world factory worker to properly configure the TV, an electronics store can pass on the saving to me...in the form of a $200 calibration charge.

Gee, thanks.

And don't even get me started on planned obsolescence. I asked the guy how long we should expect to own our new HDTV. He said they're built to last for "decades." (I couldn't help but imagine our grandchildren gathered around our ugly TV shrine in 2040.) Then I asked how long his many HDTVs had lasted him. The answer: an average of 3 years (with some duds burning out almost immediately). Naturally, he used this opportunity to tell us about the extended warranty program. Nice.

So now we're at a crossroads. Do we really want to spend more than $1,000 on a TV? Seriously, a TV? Even if we can afford it, is that where we want to "invest" right now? (I'm asking you!)

After all, a lot of people are giving away decent old TVs on craigslist right now. We have a converter box.

Hmmm...

Why I don’t Use Coupons (Am I Missing Something?)

It’s Sunday. Coupon day.

Despite many (admittedly feeble) attempts to “score big” using coupons, I must confess that I simply don’t get it. It’s not that I lack resources, of course. The blogosphere is filled with moms who would be delighted to show me the way.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling that using coupons simply isn’t worth the time and effort involved — at least not for me. I just don’t think I have the personality for it.

That’s not to say I’m a spendthrift. On the contrary, our family can be quite miserly. We have one reliable car, we don’t have cable, we have a super-cheap cell phone plan, I probably own (I am not joking, ladies) maybe four or five pairs of dress shoes, and we still use the same television that my hubby bought more than 10 years ago.

The only area where I’m guessing we spend a LOT more than the average family is on food. We like to eat at nice restaurants, and our grocery budget is rather large for a family of three.

But I don’t think that coupons would improve our lives for three reasons:

1. I buy minimally processed foods whenever possible. Our usual grocery haul includes fresh produce, meat, bulk grains/dried fruits, milk, yogurt, cheese, butter, eggs and bread. From time to time, we’ll also stock up on olive oil, spices, jarred tomatoes and other basic pantry items. What I find is that coupons rarely apply to these staples. So unless you buy commercially prepared processed foods, do coupons really pay off?
   
   
2. I hate shopping. Well, I don’t mind grocery shopping a couple of times a week, but I certainly wouldn’t want to spend a great deal of energy doing it. Making a list and going to one store (sometimes two) is really about all I can handle. So you can imagine that comparing circulars, assembling binders and darting all across the city might be a bit much for me. So for people who don’t love playing "the game," are coupons worth the time and energy involved?
   
   
3. I don’t have the room (or desire) to stockpile. Couponing seems to be predicated on the idea that you seize opportunities when they arise — even if you don’t need an item at that moment. This might mean that you buy 10 boxes of crackers because they’re almost free (or because you earn points/store credit for future purchases of things that you do need). My tiny pantry simply can’t handle that degree of stockpiling. And my brain can’t cope with that many “what if” scenarios. So if you only want to buy what you actually need on a weekly/biweekly basis, does couponing even work?

Am I missing something? Sure, I’m fascinated by moms who claim to feed their large families on $10 a week (or some other amazingly small amount). But for people seeking simplicity and minimalism in their lives, is couponing a boon or bane?

Life Is Funny (Shopping Is Funnier)

Oh, that poor sales girl.

She didn’t see it coming.

But I couldn’t help it!

(I promise, I really couldn’t!)

It was just so absurd.

And I’m the kind of girl that laughs (hard) in the face of absurdity.

Tell me a joke? I’ll muster a polite chuckle.

Lend me your favorite comedy? I might crack a smile.

But try to convince me — in your sincerest voice — that men need special moisturizing products because of their “unique body oils,” “masculine hormones,” and “PH body specifications,” and I will launch into a spontaneous giggle fit!

And I will ask you if you’re really serious.

And I will tell you that I’m not trying to be mean.

And I will apologize profusely for my rudeness.

And I will explain that it’s been a long day.

And I will finally win you over by asking, “Didn’t you think it was ridiculous when someone told you to say that?”

(You did.)

And you will be smiling, but looking somewhat disillusioned, when I finally walk away without making a purchase.

And I will still be giggling.

Because that’s what I do.

I can’t help it.

Life is just too funny sometimes.

Christmas Shopping Dialogue

If you see Kyle and I at a mall between now and December 25th, expect to hear the following conversation:

Angie: “What about this? Wouldn't this be nice?”

Kyle: “I don’t’ know.”

Angie: “Don't you like it?”

Kyle: “I don’t know.”

Angie: “Do you think [s/he/they] would like it?

Kyle: “I don’t know.”

Angie: “I mean, I like it…but do you think [s/he/they] would even like the same things that I do?

Kyle: “I don’t know.”

Angie: "What kind of stuff would [s/he/they] get excited about, anyway?"

Kyle: "I don't know."

Angie: “Oh my God... How is it even possible that I’ve known [her/him/them] for almost my whole life, but I still have no idea whether [s/he/they]'d even like this?”

Kyle: “I don’t know.”

Angie: “Isn’t that almost depressing??”

Kyle: “I don’t know.”

Angie: “I feel overwhelmed... Do you think we should we get it or not?”

Kyle: “I don’t know.”

Angie: “This is just too hard, isn’t it? Do you want to get a latte or something while we think about it?”

Kyle: “Yes.”

I hope your Christmas shopping is going better than ours is!

Mystery Solved: Strep Throat

We wasted our entire day in urgent care!

Well, that’s not exactly true.

We wasted our entire day at Minute Clinic and in urgent care.

I suppose it was our own fault for leaving Minute Clinic. We waited there for over an hour to earn the coveted “next in line” spot. So when the practitioner informed us that he’d be taking a 30-minute break before our visit, we were mad. Irrationally mad.

We left.

Kyle found a pediatric urgent care clinic near our house that — at the time we called — had only two patients in the waiting room. ("At the time we called" is the key phrase here.)

But before we discuss urgent care, I'd like to share a few special moments from Minute Clinic/CVS:

• A woman bought a Snuggie — you know, one of those blanket/dress thingies they pitch on T.V. — for her DOG! (Yes, they make them for dogs.)
  
• Another woman cleared the store out of canned vienna sausages! CANNED sausages!
  
• And yet another woman slowly worked her way down the “As Seen on T.V.” aisle, praising the virtues of each product to her friend. Bumpits, Wonder Hangers, Space Bags… Rowan was positively star struck!

Anyhoo, urgent care.

What a mistake.

We sat for what felt like an eternity among whining, coughing, sniffling kiddos. Blech. And let me tell you, it's not easy restraining a 4-year-old who wants to look at books "like the boy with the mask."

At least we left with a diagnosis — strep throat — and a prescription for antibiotics. I almost asked for something for myself after sitting that germ-factory. (Kyle is now reminding me that I did ask him for something: wine.)

So our little guy earned himself a “get out of preschool free” card for tomorrow. Here's hoping that this was our last trip to urgent care for the season.

Cross your fingers for us, will ya?

The Mom Section

I hate shopping...again.

I'm sorry to rail against the retail industry in yet another post, but I spent yesterday afternoon shopping for swimming suits and bras. Need I say more?

I guess I'll just never get used to shopping in the "mom" section. What's the mom section, you ask? Well, it's that special place in every clothing department designed for women who've had babies and thus value coverage and support — two things that apparently are in direct conflict with cuteness. It's where swimming suits have obnoxious jungle prints and wide, clingy skirts. It's where the bras come in only beige or brown and have straps an inch wide. It's that section you used to see as a teenager and think, "Who on earth would buy that ugly crap?"

I gave up on the swimming suit quest almost immediately. I just wasn’t in a good enough mood to put up with it. I had nearly surrendered my bra quest, too, when I reached Nordstrom intimates. They have great fitters (the gals who measure and manhandle you) and a fairly decent selection of cute bras in a variety of sizes. Oh, and my fitter asked how old I was because she thought I was a teenage mother. Maybe I should have been offended. It made my day.

-Angie
(Who plans to post about our earlier summer adventures this week. I have to get caught up before we leave for our next vacation this Saturday!)

Newsflash, Designers: I’m Not Pregnant

I hate shopping.

It’s not because I’m one of those “question consumption” hipsters who believes that malls are evil (although I do aspire to be that cool one day). No, I hate shopping because once I find styles that flatter me, the fickle fashion winds change — often blowing in a bad bad direction.

Case in point: the empire-waist shirt.

Seriously, how long will this trend last? No sooner had I popped out Rowan than the fashion world began dressing every woman in maternity clothes.

The "tight around the chest, loose around the belly" silhouette is not flattering on most women, and it’s causing countless avoidable faux pas. (When are you due?) Even the size-zero model pictured above looks like she's sporting a bump.

As a woman who has been pregnant — and has thus seen irreversible changes to her waistline ― the last thing I want is excess volume around my middle. So please, let’s just stop this trend right now.

-Angie
(Who is oh so disheartened by the empire-waist sweaters she’s seen for fall. Seriously? They’re adding bulky fabric to the mix now?)