I can’t remember exactly when Olivia started talking about wanting to take horseback riding lessons. Every time we’d take her older brother to a certain friend’s dad’s house (follow that?) in a nearby town, we’d pass a sign on a busy corner advertising some. The stable itself sat nearby, remnants of a farm still holding out against the encroaching city limits.

I never spotted anyone around the property, but I finally called the number I’d copied down from the sign. I left a message. No one called me back, and I didn’t pursue it. Our summer started and with it a new routine that didn’t take have me driving her brother down that way anymore, and Olivia didn’t bring it up directly. Just the occasional, “I SEE HORSES!” every time we’d pass some along the road or highway — which in the Midwest can be fairly often.

Last week Olivia and I accompanied a friend to her daughter’s horseback riding lesson (not at the same place I’d called), even though I knew what would happen and I knew how much it would cost. Sure enough. “Yes! Yes! I want to do this!”

Olivia, who still holds back and claims she’s afraid of dogs, did not hesitate to go right up to these big creatures and nimbly caress their flanks. She watched the entire lesson wide-eyed and only seemed more certain every time I asked her, “So you’re sure you want to try this?” I asked the instructor about number$ and equipment and times and we scheduled a trial lesson.

For the next couple of days Olivia would randomly sigh, “I can’t wait to ride Dreamer,” the sweet, small-ish horse the instructor introduced as The Love of Her Life and the one Just Perfect for young, new students to ride.

A couple more days passed, and Olivia abruptly said, “I changed my mind. I don’t want to take horseback riding lessons anymore.”

I was very, very surprised. “Don’t you just want to at least try it?” The instructor already explained that they have new students try two lessons before the parents commit a single dollar: they want to make sure kids are still interested even after the novelty has worn off.  No one wants a child around horses who doesn’t want to be there.

I gently grilled her: Are you afraid? Do you just not like horses anymore? Did you *gasp* hear me talking about the prohibitive cost and think we couldn’t afford it?

No, no, and no. She just wasn’t interested anymore. She finally shrugged, “I just really can’t explain it.”

And neither can I. This isn’t like my baby girl, to not want to try something. But even stranger: she wanted to try it; but now she doesn’t. What changed?

I’m thinking this is divine intervention, and I’m letting it go. Who knows what we may be avoiding? Yes, the cost is high: $340 for eight lessons, plus riding gear. I really didn’t know what I would think if she’d loved it and wanted to continue after we move to California at the end of the year. That’s a lot of money! I should be glad to avoid that. But I can’t help but think…

I was impressed with what I saw during the lesson we visited. Horses are amazing creatures. The instructor was amazing with her students, and very good with meeting Olivia, too. You can learn so much riding horses: confidence; poise; responsibility; assertiveness. Quite frankly, I was sold on our visit and was looking forward to Olivia gaining from the experience, even if for a short time.

Yes, horses can be dangerous: they’re just so big. So many safety precautions are taken, and two- and three-year-olds ride horseback with nary a problem. But you just never know, do you? At least, it looks like we never will. I’ll just chalk this one up to another Mystery I want to ask God about when I get to Heaven. And for now anyway, I’ll listen to my daughter.

Related posts:

1. How Much Do You Spend On Your Kids’ Activities?
2. The Cost of Letting a Little Girl Dance
3. Summer Activitie$ (and musings on the cost of homeschooling).

Logging into my USAA accounts recently, I noticed a poll on the sidebar with this question:

How many overdraft fees did the average household pay in 2009?

1. 1
2. 4
3. 9
4. 13
   

Would you be surprised to learn the answer was 13?

“…. the average U.S. household with a banking account incurred nearly 13 overdraft fees in 2009, according to management advisory firm Bretton Woods Inc. Those fees cost Americans a whopping $38 billion they could’ve spent elsewhere.”

To quote Keanu Reaves,

“Whoa.”

Do you have trouble with overdraft fees?  Okay, wait a minute. You don’t have to answer that. Let’s start over.

How do you avoid overdraft fees? I know, I know… Keep track of your spending. But things happen, and they’re not always your fault. I worked at a bank for a couple of years, and I was astounded at how many people thought it was the bank’s job to keep track of their balance for them. But I also saw how many unintentional human errors are committed on a daily basis: double postings, by the merchant or bank; unauthorized automatic drafts; pending debits that somehow don’t fall off when they’re supposed to…

Not to mention the many errors that you and I are capable of committing: forgetting to account for ATM fees (or for ATM withdrawals, for that matter); not communicating with The Spouse on daily transactions; forgetting to write down some random paper check you had to mail for some random payment…

Overdraft Protection is the obvious choice, preferably with a savings account (that has money in it).  It’s good to have a back-up as well, such as with a credit card.

I heartily believe in Overdraft Protection myself, not only because You Just Never Know but also because at times when we travel or are otherwise moving, I covet that feeling of knowing that bills will be covered even if I’m not on the ball. Especially when we were in the middle of a trans-continental move with small children, this feeling of security was measureless: I simply didn’t have the time or energy to make sure things were happening on the account like they were supposed to, for days or weeks at a time.

What’s your Method of Avoiding Overdraft Fees? Overdraft protection? A large cash buffer in your checking account? Checking your transactions and balance with the bank every day, online or otherwise? Do tell. Someone might be reading this who needs your help.

No related posts.

Wow, I just scrounged up a draft of this post originally dated July 1. I guess I had admirable intentions of a timely update. I have been amazingly lazy about reluctant to post June’s numbers: Paying down debt just isn’t very exciting when you’re only making the regular payments.

I really can’t call this a snowball. At least, the snowball is currently resting on a plane.  The reason we’re not currently snowballing our debt is, again, because our house is up for sale and every dollar of extra cash is going into a regular savings account in the event that we *gasp* have to bring some money to the closing table. You know, for when the house sells. Which it will. It will.

The Numbers

End of June 2010:

1. First Mortgage:  $170,249.14
2. Second Mortgage:  $31,342.63
3. Rental Property:  $108,270.38

Total Debt:  $309,862.15

This is a difference of $591.35 in principle from the $310,453.50 owed in primary and rental mortgage debt at the end of May.

We paid down $30.79 more in principle in June than we did in May with our regular payments.

<<Woo-hoo!>>

Regular Payments Breakdown:

1. First Mortgage: $1538.63
2. Second Mortgage: $283.90
3. Rental Property: $758.00

Total Monthly Payments: $2580.53

Less than $2000 went toward interest this month! Woo-hoo! ($1,988.65 toward interest, to be exact.)

Cash Has Been De-Throned.

At least for now. I mused back in January when I started a Cash Envelope System that I was hoping I would have my Cash Mo-Jo down by the time John got back from his deployment. That appears to not have been the case. Either that, or John’s return threw me off my mo-jo. I’m really not sure which one is to blame.

Most likely, any mo-jo I gained on my own became moot when my husband returned: Finances are a whole different ball game when two people are involved.

Not that he wasn’t spending money while he was gone, but we were communicating pretty well about what cash he was going to pull out for the month, etc., while he was away, and it was pretty simple. Coming home, his needs, and mine, have changed. Our grocery bill in June? And the money we spent eating out? Oh, lawdy. Don’t get me started. That’s another post. (I pinky promise.)

I’m not even sure if cash is the best way for us to go. I really like to categorize our spending (I use Mint — a free personal finance software program) and cash really muddled me all up: I was constantly raiding Peter to pay Paul and at the end of the month I really wasn’t sure how accurate the amounts in my cash envelopes even were.

I know, I know… This would work if I collected every receipt for each category in its respective envelope at the end of the day. But what about the receipts that included more than one category? It just gets very complicated and time-consuming. Maybe I’m just getting old. Or maybe I’m just grumpy, but I’m just not convinced all that complication is necessary.

Suffice to say, for now, Cash has been de-throned. I’m not sure if it will stay that way, or if it even should. But those are my thoughts for now.

Related posts:

1. Budget FAIL. And a debt update.
2. Debt Update (and Budget Busters, too).
3. Just the Facts, Ma’am.

Peter is a picky eater, always has been. His mainstays are peanut butter and honey tortillas (yes, you read that right), bananas, and applesauce. The quintessential white diet. He has and does eat other foods, but tortillas are what he begs for. Even if we are offering him something that he has eaten before, he’ll whine and cry and carry on like we’re trying to poison him. “I just want a tortilla!”

Peter's mainstays: Tortillas with peanut butter and honey. (The nutella is a treat on road trips.)

And yes, I’ve tried sneaking other things into his tortillas. Even the smallest of small dabs of refried beans hidden in the melted cheese, which he does like. He finds it. Then accuses me of poisoning him. Not in those exact words, but you’d think I’d tried to get him to eat cyanide by the way he carries on.

We’ve tried saying taking it or leave it, you’re not getting anything else. He’ll leave it and go hungry.

Or he’ll bide his time and sneak something else once we finally turn our back.  He’s a main reason we put a lock on our pantry door. (He figured out a long time ago how to unlock it, but it was nice while it lasted.)

My first two children both came out of the womb eating like champs. We have pictures of Conner at five eating a steamed head of broccoli like it was an ice cream cone. Olivia pops grape tomatoes in her mouth like candy. I knew Peter’s picky eating wasn’t due to his environment. When we got his diagnosis of apraxia, it all seemed to make sense: textures; sensory integration; temperature sensitivity. This wasn’t just about food. I learned about resistant eaters, and as bad as Peter’s eating seemed to me, I realized that it was nothing compared to what some parents experience with their special needs children. (Ever hear of Food Therapy?) I picked my battles and simply encouraged foods that (somewhat) made up a whole diet, colorless as they were.

Over time, the lines have blurred somewhat between what is really difficult for Peter to eat — he doesn’t like ice cream, for instance, “Too cold!” — and what he simply doesn’t want to eat. But old habits die hard, and I’ve grown accustomed to accommodating Peter’s eating preferences. I do encourage him to try new things; I will often entice him to just eat one bite by letting him have what he’d really like to eat afterward. No matter that he’d even admit that he liked what I made him try: he’d had his one bite and he was done.

Cue John’s Recent Return from Deployment.

Something must have snapped — I guess those months away gave John fresh eyes when he came home and witnessed Peter’s eating habits anew. John declared No More and with a Take No Prisoners attitude decided that Peter was going to start eating Good Food, or else.

It was a huge, huge milestone when John got Peter to eat a cheeseburger. A half a cheeseburger, mind you. But still. And this was no tasteless fast food, but a plump, juicy cheeseburger seasoned just-so, fresh off the grill.

At least, it was fresh off the grill when we ate. It took Peter two hours to eat his.

But he ate it! This happened before our recent road trip to Kansas. While traveling, we quickly slid back into our usual eating habits. I chose to fight no battles with Peter regarding food (hey, I was on vacation, too) but I also wasn’t always around to make sure that he was at least getting a somewhat well-rounded diet with his preferred white-food choices. By the end of the trip, it was apparent that his health was starting to suffer.  John finally spent an evening (while the rest of us were at my cousin’s wedding reception) forcing Peter to eat two baby carrots. They had left the reception early because Peter was pale, exhausted, complaining of a tummy ache, refusing to eat a single morsel from the buffet, and begging relentlessly to just have some wedding cake. And John was still annoyed with him for sneaking and eating an entire bag of cheese earlier in the day. It took two hours, many tears, and cries begging “I just want to go to bed!” but he ate it.

In the past, I have often given him the option of eating what I gave him for dinner or just going to bed, figuring that the experts must be right when they say that a kid will never starve himself. I’m not so sure they’re right with this one. He’s a stubborn fellow — manipulative and sneaky, too. John has decided to play a firm hand with him, and for that I am thankful. I’m not sure I have the stomach for it. No pun intended.

Cue Vigil.

So we had cheeseburgers again last night. And John laid down the law: no substitutions.

I wish I’d gotten a picture of Peter just sitting there, not eating his food: the sullen look on his face is priceless. But I’m choosing to expend as little energy (and attention) as possible on these battles. We all ate our food, I cleared the table and wiped it down around him, then John set hisself down and commenced a vigil.

It’s not very fun, these vigils. And they’re a huge time sucker. But they’re necessary because the minute you turn your back Peter is off and running, which is why it’s so difficult to force him to eat while we’re traveling and visiting friends and family. In fact, during last night’s vigil he made one escape when John left the room for a minute, calling over his shoulder for me to mind that Peter didn’t leave the table. I turned my back to do some dishes and Peter was gone. We found him up in his room, trying to put himself to bed.

Oh, we are mean and cruel parents, we are. We made Peter come back down and sit at the table, telling him he’d be there for as long as it took, but he was going to eat that cheeseburger. Oh, the humanities. I just want to go to bed. I’m so ti-i-i-i-red! Laying his head down on the table and wailing and carrying on like the poor, abused, downtrodden prisoner that he was.

Cue Portal.

John was not to be deterred, and he brought his laptop to the table to help pass the time.

Now, Peter loves electronics in general: computer games; Wii; gameboy; his big brother’s DSi (much to big brother’s consternation). Electronics in moderation are not a bad thing, in my view. But we definitely have to limit them with this fellow. With all of our kids, in fact.

One game he loves to play above all else is Portal, a game John discovered while he was deployed. He took advantage of a free download one weekend, introduced it to Olivia and Peter, and they were hooked.

To me, their liking a game like Portal is very improbable. To quote the website’s description:

“Players must solve physical puzzles and challenges by opening portals to maneuvering objects, and themselves, through space.”

Huh, what?

It’s actually quite intellectually challenging, and from my understanding (I’ve never played myself) involves quite a bit of physics. Not my bag, baby. This is a game they only play with daddy, on daddy’s laptop. I didn’t even realize until writing this that the game normally costs $19.95 to download, so kudos to John for getting it free.

So John sits down with his laptop, and we’re telling Peter that as soon as he eats his cheeseburger, he can play Portal. But not to dawdle, or it will be bedtime.

I sort of half-joked to John, “Maybe you and Olivia should just start playing right there in front of him. You know, on the opposite side of the table so he couldn’t see the screen.” Ha-ha, wouldn’t that just be too cruel? John thought so at first, then apparently changed his mind because next time I turn around there they are, setting it up and Olivia is sooo excited, because she thought she’d have to wait until Peter was done with his dinner.

Well, this was just too much for Peter.

“I want to play!”

“Then eat your dinner!”

He slumped back down in his chair, but his eyes flickered onto his cheeseburger for the briefest of moments.

Minutes passed. Peter would slowly start to sneak his way around the table so he could watch. He always got sent back — sometimes not until I happened by and noticed, so engrossed were John and Olivia in their playing. (What is it with men and their ability to tune everything out around them in the name of electronics? If only I had that ability, this blog could go up to the next level, I tell you that.) And then, and then, and then… What’s this I see?

He’s eating! And he likes it! But of course he does! Because he’s had a cheeseburger before!

(If you look very, very closely, you can see a bit of a piece of sauteed squash on his plate. That was just me being hopeful. Eating that wasn’t part of The Deal.) (Truthfully, simply allowing it to stay on his plate is improvement for him.)

Later when it was time to get ready for bed, Peter came by me and I held out my hand for him to give me five. He ran up and gave me a hug instead. He was so happy! And not acting tired at all!

What Does This Have to Do With “Budgets”?

Nothing, yet everything, really.

It takes more energy to deal with picky eaters who don’t simply eat what you put on their plate on a regular basis. It takes more resources to supply picky eaters with food you know they’ll eat — though I must admit that this aspect can actually be money-saving. (It’s almost like having one less mouth to feed when that mouth doesn’t eat much meat.) (And very, very little fresh produce.) It can be difficult to get picky eaters the nutrients that their bodies need, and their health can suffer, making them more prone to cold and exhaustion and every virus that comes their way.

Having a picky eater in the family affects everyone around them: It can have a negative impact on the family dinner experience when someone is always complaining about their food, or trying to get up from the table. The benefits of a family eating together can get swallowed up by the energy consumed by dealing with one person. It’s difficult to go out to eat when you know one person will protest if one or two particular items aren’t offered on a menu. Never mind trying different ethnic restaurants and having different culinary experiences as a family.

Peter is only five. Peter is already five.

He’s still young, but I can totally see how this can go on forever if we let it. I heard two separate stories during our recent trip about kids people know who are in their teens and are still very, very picky eaters. Can you imagine how this is affecting their health? Their social lives? Their opportunities to grow as individuals and experience new things?

We still have a long, long road ahead of us with Peter and eating. He may have to eat a cheeseburger 20, 30 more times before he does so willingly. I’m just so glad that I’m not in this by myself: I regularly get tastes (no pun intended) of what it’s like to be a single parent (albeit with income) for months at a time, and I simply know I would not have the energy to fight this battle consistently on my own.

John will be gone again for the month of August. I don’t know how much I’ll stand ground while he’s gone; I’ll play that by ear. I just know that, years from now, when Peter’s eating sushi and squash and slurping smoothies (and not complaining they’re “too cold!”) I want everyone to know, this didn’t just happen. We didn’t “get lucky”. We had to work on this for a long, long time. And it was really, really hard.

Small Moves

Peter got his tortilla for dinner tonight, along with a banana. I was making dinner, but John and Conner were still going to be out for awhile. He was hungry again later so I offered him some of our dinner we were eating late. He wailed and declined. I let him. Did he go to bed hungry? Possibly. Starving? Not at all. Would Portal have worked? I’ve no idea: we didn’t try it tonight. John was busy working on fixing our modem router problem ($140 later, problem solved. *sigh*) and didn’t have time. Who knows? It may not work the next time at all. We can only hope. Small moves, people.

Related posts:

1. How Often Do You Find Yourself Going Through the Drive-Thru?
2. How Much Do You Spend on Groceries?
3. Y’all. Get to Know My $5 Friend. She’ll Save You Money.

A Monsoon 4th of July in McPherson, Kansas

Finally. Oh, how I’ve missed you all! We logged almost 2000 miles in ten days between Ohio and Kansas. It did rain over the 4th of July, effectively canceling my sister’s Independence Day Bash.    We did, however, manage to set some money on fire light some fireworks at my parent’s house in between bouts of Monsoon Showers. We weren’t the only ones waiting for a break: their street looked (and sounded) like a verifiable war zone. For those who did not keep up with the comments on the previous post, our final tally for the 4th of July…

Neighbors Watching the (very smoky) Fireworks Show

Fireworks: $40.80

John bought the fireworks the day-of and took advantage of many discounts. For more tallies and quote$ and to see how others celebrated (or not) this crazy American holiday, check out the comments on the previous post. I especially found it interesting how many people commented that their towns canceled their fireworks’ displays because of budget constraints.

Total Cost of Our Road Trip:$642.38

This includes everything. The breakdown:

• Donuts: $8.78
• Fuel: $304.41 (Good news — Our van did not break down on this trip!)
  
• Fast Food: $79.42
• Coffee/Drink Stops: $16.13
• Booze: $36.45
• Pizza Delivery: $33.96 (the only meal we paid for at my parent’s)
• Braum’s: $7.58 (Anyone traveling through this part of the Midwest must experience some Braum’s ice cream.) (Unfortunately this transaction did not include any ice cream for me.)
• Wedding (and Shower) Gift: $75
• Sunglasses: $15.15 (because John thought he lost his.) (Now he has two.)
• Flower Girl shoes: $10 (because I forgot to pack these for Olivia)
• Four tickets to Toy Story 3D: $35.50
• Two tickets to Knight & Day: $20

We were appalled at how much it cost us in Kansas to go see a movie. I mean, Kansas. That figure for Toy Story? That was a matinee. Which included the 3D glasses, but still. We’ve grown accustomed to military discounts which not only apply to the ticket cost but also throw in the 3D glasses for free. We weren’t able to get a military discount at either theater we went to, in my small hometown or in Kansas City. Hmph.

The Cost of Not Communicating

We didn’t do very well this trip on packing food for the trip and cutting corners on eating in general. Never mind the booze. (We didn’t drink all of that ourselves, honest.) (And none of it while we were driving.) I also blame my dear husband for not communicating with me as the reason for a good chunk of the change above. The day we left, I was going about getting ready and thinking I had all the time in the world, when I overhear John telling Peter to go get his shoes on.

Me: “Why? We’re not anywhere near ready.”

John: “We have to get going, we have a showing in 20 minutes.”

Me: “Wha…?” And you did not mention this why? I continued to make known my displeasure at this apparent oversight as I ramped up my speed and ran around the house and started throwing things in bags and in the cooler and in the car. I wasn’t packed. The house wasn’t ready. Lunch was not ready to take with us.

I was not happy.

Instead of  making sandwiches to go, we ate at McDonald’s. I also forgot Olivia’s shoes. Her cute-cute, like-new sandals that I had found at the Thrift Store. The ones she was supposed to wear as a Flower Girl in my cousin’s wedding. And I totally blame my husband. Somehow, he thought I knew about the Showing, even though he was the one who answered the phone when they scheduled it. Obviously, he holds my mind-reading skills in high regard. And has no idea what all is entailed to get a family of five out the door for a road trip. Or he might have noticed that we weren’t anywhere near ready.

Now granted, I could have been more ready than I was. I was moving slowly. Very, very slowly. Acting like we didn’t have 600 miles ahead of us to drive that day… All the more reason to cue someone that I might not be ready to head out the door anytime soon? At least not in the next 20 minutes? Perhaps? Yes? Grrrr.

Ooh, just typing about it is getting me all worked up again. And I’m actually totally over this. Really. Love you, babe!  “We just need to work on our communication.” (Name that movie.)

Cash has been de-throned.

Cash has not been King around here. In fact, it made nary an appearance in June and not one at all in July. I have more thoughts on this which I’ll explore more (hopefully) tomorrow, along with the update on our debt. (Hint: still not very exciting.) Suffice to say that the lack of cash spending has been more due to neglect on my part rather than an intentional omission. However, I’m not sure that cash (rather than debit card) is the best way for us to go — at least not completely…

But we are desperately needing some His and Hers Blow Money again. See those Coffee/Drink Stops up there? Hello, Discretionary Funds? I’m tired of you nickel and diming me with your debit card while I’m trying to keep up with logging our daily transactions. Especially when I’m not on the computer so much because I’m traveling. It’s just too much to keep up with. And yes, I realize I’m dangling my prepositions, but you have to realize how overwhelming it can be. It feels like when my kids throw perfectly clean clothes into the hamper along with the dirty ones, effectively requiring them to be cleaned once again. It’s just not necessary. I knew you’d understand.

And I promise to try to make more sense tomorrow.

Related posts:

1. Inquiring Minds Want to Know! How much are you spending on the 4th of July?
2. Cars and Trips and Cliffs
3. “Oh, Say Can You Spend?”

It’s the night before we officially celebrate our nation’s Independence Day, though you’d think it was already the 4th based on all the snap, crackle, popping and occasional BOOM! going on outside all over my hometown in Kansas. And these are just the amateurs!

We just arrived at my parent’s house and can’t yet answer the question for ourselves of how much we’ll spend on fireworks; we’re waiting until The Day for our own purchases, taking the lead from my 12yo cousin to try to steal a few deals at the last-minute. The forecast is calling for rain tomorrow, so cross your fingers and say a little prayer: My sister is hosting a huge 4th of July Extravaganza, and lots of little hearts will be crushed if it gets rained out. (Lots of big hearts, too, if we’re honest.)

My sister and bro-in-law host an Independence Bash every year, but we’ve rarely been able to attend, what with our living all over hither and yon. Laws on shooting fireworks vary from State to State: Growing up in Kansas, we could start them at sunset the night before the 4th and continue until the 5th, if I remember right. Based on the racket going on outside as I type, I’d say nothing’s changed.

The laws in Ohio are quite strict. You can buy fireworks there, but you can’t legally ignite most of them.

I really don’t get that.

The law is not heartily enforced, however; I happen to know that people in Ohio are lighting them anyway… (That is, I think I heard of that happening once. *wink-wink*)

I’ve known of people spending thousands of dollars on fireworks every year. Just for themselves their kids. I’d say laying down a few hundred dollars is quite commonplace…

How about you? Are fireworks a major line-item in your budget every July? Do you get sparklers and call it good? (Do you live in a State where Sparklers are the only thing that’s legal?) Do you keep the kids up till midnight and brave the crowds and mosquitoes and enjoy your local fireworks display? (Do you ignore the whole thing and go to bed early?)

I wish you all a wonderful 4th of July filled with lots of fun and fellowship and meat on the grill. May you all enjoy the holiday without breaking the bank! Regardless, please share in the comments how much you splurge (or not) for the holiday. Inquiring minds do want to know. I will be updating our total as soon as I know it. Stay tuned.

Related posts:

1. “Oh, Say Can You Spend?”
2. The Cost of a Road Trip.
3. Are Your Kids Getting What They’re Asking for from Santa?

Absolutely beautiful day in Ohio. The humidity dropped exponentially overnight.

Just in time for our impending road trip to Kansas: Land of Heat and Humidity.

Ick.

July is not the best time to visit Kansas. Only August is worse.

I blame this trip on my cousin, who’s getting married. Even though we’ve visited Kansas in July more times than I’d like to remember. And in August. I really don’t know why we do this. It’s a habit I’m thinking of stopping. Until the next wedding. Anyone reading this in Kansas? Fall is beautiful, really. So is Spring. And Winter weddings really shouldn’t be underestimated.

What’s up with people always getting married in the Summer, anyway? Why is that the tradition? Is that just an American thing? I’ve never really pondered that before…

We got married in May. I don’t think I ever mentioned it, but we celebrated 16 years last month.

We got a new bed. And slept in it. That’s what happens when you’ve been married a while: you get excited about sleeping. And not waking up with a sore back. We were quite pleased.

I don’t mean to sound grumpy. But I just re-read this, and I’m reminding myself of a curmudgeon.

That’s a funny word, curmudgeon. I don’t think I’ve ever used that one before. Cantankerous, yes. But not curmudgeon.

The Nature Park was spectacularly beautiful today. I took lots of pictures. The kids loved creeking and discovering things like tadpoles and fossilized rocks and deer that aren’t skittish when you creep in close.

Yes, creeking. I think my teenager and his friends made that word up.When I was growing up in Kansas, we called it a crick. (Or is it crik?)

Peter slipped and fell in the water and got his shirt wet.

After that, he walked like Frankenstein. Or a zombie, I couldn’t decide which. (Is there a difference?)

Someday, I will take the kids out and leave my camera at home. And try not to say to myself, “Oh, I wish I had my camera.” But today, I’m glad I had it. The little kids are good sports about it, always willing to pose, when I want them to.

Oftentimes I don’t.

We leave for Kansas in two days. I’ve done nothing to get ready. If you’ve read this far, thank you for procrastinating with me.

Are you so lucky as to have a wonderful, free Nature Park nearby? Or arboretum? Or some other such wonder to experience for merely the price of showing up in The Great Outdoors?

Please, don’t tell me if you do and have never gotten around to enjoying it. Just go, now. And carry no regrets that it took you this long.

Just don’t let it take you so long again.

Related posts:

1. It’s (unofficially) Summer!

I swear, sometimes I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.

The library is free, right? Unless, of course, you don’t return your books on time? (Or at all?)

And yes, I do get email notices telling me that I have some items that are coming due. And are overdue. And This is the Final Notice and all of that.

Like I said, I really don’t know what my problem is. My inbox is in a shambles, if that’s any excuse. Hello, electronic clutter. You are not making my short list of to-do’s anytime soon. I have much more important things to do right now. Like sell a house. And read to my kids. And read some books myself. Yes, the ones that are still overdue. I’m paying for them; might as well get my money’s worth.

$27.40 = What I paid in fines just this month.

That is not, by any means, all that I have paid since the beginning of the year. I refuse to look that up right now.

If I recall correctly, last year I declared a moratorium on the public library for this very reason. I’m not quite sure when I started slinking back there again…

And yes, I’m also fully aware that there are “systems” we can employ. We had one working for us at one time: a designated spot for library books; a pile for ones coming in and ones going out. I’m not sure when that fell apart. Perhaps when I started staging this house to sell? I’m thinking that potential buyers are just going to have to deal with a few piles of books out in the open, because this lack-of-a-system system isn’t working for us.

Anyone care to fess up to owing their public library more than a few dollars of their own? Come on, make me feel better. You know you want to.

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1. Library books aren’t free when they’re overdue.

Riding bikes is great frugal fun for the whole family!  Once you’ve accounted for the cost of the bikes, of course…

John recently posted this ad on craigslist:

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I’ve been consumed with laundry, yard work, showings, friends, and… Life!

Regularly scheduled programming will recommence shortly.

I hope you all are enjoying your summer!

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