My SHINY Nickels

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Moment of the Week: A Case of Mistaken Identity

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DisguiseEvery so often I like to look back on my week and see what things I accomplished, things I didn’t accomplish, humorous things that happened, etc.  So this is another “moment of the week”, a sort of brain-dump if you will, of things I think are worth sharing.  You’re welcome.

 

Normally my bagel Friday is rather uneventful.  I head to the Panera Bakery-Cafe near my house, and grab a coffee with a whole-grain bagel, toasted, topped with Reduced-Fat Blueberry Cream Cheese.  I find a quiet table and relax for a few moments, eating and checking my email.

But today was different.  I walk into Panera, and get in line.  As I wait, I start scanning the restaurant, reviewing the seating possibilities.  As my gaze starts to pull back, I realize this older gentleman sitting at a table is smiling at me.  I recognize him.  It’s a family friend, Chuck, that I’ve known since I was a kid.  I smile back and wave.

Eventually I get to the front of the line, place my order, and head to the coffee station.  As I’m getting my coffee just the way I like it (black, with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a splash of half-and-half, in case you’re wondering), I see Chuck smiling at me again, so I smile back, and give him a finger (not THAT finger) saying I’ll be over in a second.  He nods.  My pager buzzes, telling me my bagel is ready.  I go to the counter, grab the plate and head over to talk to Chuck.

As I get increasingly closer to his table, he starts grinning, and then I realize something.

IT’S. NOT. CHUCK. 

It’s a complete stranger.  I stood there at his table, holding my bagel, in painful silence.

Eventually some awkward conversation ensued.

 

Pseudo-Chuck: “Good morning.”

Me: “Good morning.”  [insert uncomfortable laugh]

Pseudo-Chuck: “Whatcha got there?”

Me: [another umcomfortable laugh] “Oh, just a bagel.”

Pseudo-Chuck: “Looks good.”

Me: “Yup. So, um, okay…I’m going to get started on my bagel then.  It’s really callin’ my name, so…” [yet another uncomfortable laugh]

Pseudo-Chuck: “Oh.  Okay.”

 

It was P-A-I-N-F-U-L.

(Side note:  I’ve done something similar only one other time that I can remember, years ago at my office.  I was heading down a long, narrow hallway towards the restroom when I saw a co-worker I knew coming towards me, at the other end.  I yelled out, “I DON’T THINK I’M GOING TO MAKE IT TO THE TOILET IN TIME!!!”, referencing an inside joke we had.  I didn’t get a response.  Turns out, as we got closer, it wasn’t my co-worker.  We passed each other in silence.  He’s probably still wondering, to this day, why I loudly announced my need to use the restroom.  Once again, awkward.)

 

Anyway, back to my story…

The conversation ended.  Pseudo-Chuck looked around, I looked around.  Doo-dee-doo.  As I shuffled away and found a table in the far, far back, one thing kept repeating in my head:  “Must. Wear. Glasses.”

My Experiment: I’m Declaring War on STRESS

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whack_a_moleUPDATE!  (Scroll down if you want to read the results of my experiment…)

Do you remember that arcade game called “Whack-a-Mole”?  Growing up, I loved it.  The mole pops up, you WHACK it.  Just as you’ve finished sinking that one back in its hole, another mole has popped up.  WHACK.  There’s no preparation, no time to think, it’s just one “WHACK!” after another for a solid frenzied minute.  The timer goes off, and you drop the cartoonishly large mallet in a display of exhaustion.

I’ve figured out that my life has started to feel like Whack-A-Mole.  I’m far too “reactive”.  I move from one issue to the next, whacking each crisis back into its hole.  And this reactive way of life causes STRESS…which in many cases is COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY.  Why do I live like this?  Day after day after day?  At it’s core, that constant daily stress makes me unhappy.

Some struggle with paying their bills on time.  Others put off school projects until the last minute.   Maybe you can’t seem to get dinner on the table before soccer practice so your family stuffs their faces in the car.  Me?  It’s the mad dash to get the kids off to school in the morning.

So, like I do with nearly every other problem I’ve come across, I analyzed it.

It seems logical that stress first thing in the morning sets a bad tone for the entire day.  And every morning that I get my kids ready and out the door to school, it’s a little bit chaotic.  Why?  How can I alleviate some or maybe (gasp!) ALL of the stress?

Here’s how my typical weekday morning looks:

The alarm clock goes off at 6:30am…I hit snooze twice until 6:48am…I finally pull myself out of bed…figure out my son’s clothes for school, crossing my fingers that there’s clean socks and underwear in his drawer…get breakfast on the table…make the kids lunches (x3)…get backpacks packed and zipped up…make sure at least an attempt occurs at toothbrushing…everyone in the car by 7:30am.

Making it in the car by 7:30am happens, but it’s a fly-around-the-house, nail-biting, non-stop-circus EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.  As soon as the school taxi arrives back home, I flop on to the sofa in an exhausted heap for a few minutes before logging on to work.

Now that I (and you) can take a wide-angle look at my morning, the problems and points where stress could be alleviated are glaringly obvious.

 

(1)  “I hit snooze twice”

If I’m hitting snooze, that means I’m not getting enough sleep.

START GOING TO BED BY 10PM

 

(2)  “Figure out my son’s outfit”

Why am I waiting until that morning to figure this out?  (More importantly, why isn’t HE figuring this out?  He’s in 5th grade. But that’s a battle for another day. Sigh.)

CHECK THE CLOTHING SITUATION THE EVENING BEFORE AT 7PM; RUN A LOAD OF LAUNDRY IF NECESSARY

 

(3)  “Get breakfast on the table”

This can’t be much more efficient, but with more time in the morning, my children will actually have time to CHEW their food, instead of inhaling it.

GET CEREAL / BAGELS / FRUIT OUT AND ON THE COUNTER THE NIGHT BEFORE AT 7PM

 

(4)  “Make the kids lunches”

I don’t know why I don’t do at least some of this the night before.  Well, actually I do know why.  It’s because the night before I’m getting the kids through their bedtime routines, and then I don’t feel like doing things like “lunch prep”.  So I browse other personal finance blogs. It’s my “me” time, okay? But this is going to change.

PACK ALL NON-PERISHABLE LUNCH ITEMS  THE NIGHT BEFORE AT 7PM

 

(5)  “Get backpacks pulled together”

This only takes me 5 or 6 minutes, but it’s just one more thing I can do the night before and get off the morning list.

PULL BACKPACKS TOGETHER THE NIGHT BEFORE AND SET THEM BY THE DOOR, AT 7PM

 

Now that I can see where the issues are, and most have to do with time management, I’m going to do a little experiment.  Let’s put on our lab coat and goggles and get started.

 

For one week, starting tomorrow, I’m going to follow the 5 recommendations I listed above.

 

This means at 7pm each weeknight I will pull together my son’s clothes for the next day, do a load of laundry if I need to, get the breakfast items out on the counter, pack the non-perishable lunch items, pull together the kids backpacks and set them by the door, and be IN BED by 10pm.

My hypothesis is that getting to bed earlier will equate to more sleep at night, causing me to actually get up when my alarm goes off at 6:30am, instead of hitting snooze.  At that point, I’ll already gain 18 minutes of time that I was previously snoozing away.  That, along with the other time-saving measures, should provide for a relaxing morning routine.

The truth is, my family deserves the best from me.  And if I’m spending my mornings yelling, “Where’s your left shoe?” from the back of the house, or giving a death stare when my son tells me he’s left his backpack at home, that’s not the mother I want them to remember when I pull up to the school and drop them at the curb.  That’s not the mother I want them to remember when they’re waving goodbye as they head off to college.

I’ve only got so many years left in this stage of life; where I get to help them with their homework and hear about their day at the dinner table each night. Soon enough they’ll be gone and starting a new chapter in their own book.  So here’s to making a life change for the better.  Managing a part of my life that causes me to be a person I’m not proud of.

I already have a suspicion that by the end of this week, I’m going to feel FANTASTIC.

 

*************************************

UPDATE!   Tuesday May 6th

Monday morning went well.  I didn’t snooze my alarm, and the morning was calm.  I felt like June Cleaver.   But…last night I couldn’t fall asleep.  I was in bed at 9:50pm, and I laid there tossing and turning until after 11pm.  Ugh.  The longer I’m awake, the more frustrated I become, and the more frustrated I become, the longer I’m awake.  So I ended up using BOTH snoozes this morning.  I know, right?!?  But, here’s the awesome thing.  Because I had put so many other time-saving measures in place, we still had a leisurely morning and got off to school beautifully.

I’m hoping that as the week goes on, my brain will start to adjust towards going to sleep earlier, so I don’t have trouble every night. We’ll see…

 

ANOTHER UPDATE!   Friday May 9th

What a difference a week makes.  Last night I fell asleep at 9:20pm and got a full night’s rest.  I’m not exaggerating when I say that managing just that one stressful area of my life, made a difference in the way I felt each day.  I’m no longer starting my day in a stressful panic.  Instead it was a calm, peaceful environment,  moving from one task to the next, until everyone was ready for school, with time to spare.  Which seemed to set the tone for the entire day. I think I’ll even start playing classical music; it would serve as a fitting backdrop to our now-pleasurable mornings.

This life change will definitely be integrated into my daily routine, and become my new normal.  It’s almost sad when I look back and realize how comfortably miserable I was.  Change is good.

*************************************

 

Do you have anything that causes stress?  Does it bring out the less-desirable sides of you?   What can you do to change it?

mySHINYnickels.com…My First 60 Days as a Blogger

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It’s been 60 days since I started this blog.   There were moments of elation, confidence and liberation mixed and mingled with moments of self-doubt, discouragement and vulnerability.  I realize how dramatic that sounds, but in no way was I prepared for the emotions that resulted from writing in a public forum like this.  One thing I’ve already learned is that when you put yourself out there for anyone and everyone to see, it causes a level of introspection like I’ve never experienced in my 35 years of existence.

Who am I?  Is anyone interested in what I have to say?  What is my role in the blogosphere?  Will people read?  Will they like me?  Do I sound arrogant/off-putting/whiny?  The incessant inner monologue almost consumed me at times.

I played with the blogging idea for years before actually committing to it 60 days ago.  I wasn’t sure that I had much to say, but then it struck me.  I have a  passion and I have a story.   We started living smarter, demolished our debt, and started saving…which led to really LIVING.  I soon realized that over the course of our financial journey, I had gathered so much good information, it wasn’t right to keep it to myself any longer.   I knew we weren’t the only ones living a “financed life”.    From behind the wheel of a financed car, we drove to our mortgaged-to-the-hilt house, all while wearing clothes we probably bought on credit.

We couldn’t be the only ones, could we?  And having come out the other side with a newly found financial security, and a quality of life never before experienced, it was time to share.  But…within a few minutes of purchasing www.mySHINYnickels.com, I was already thinking…”I’m committed now. What have I done?”

But I decided to just…start.   I began writing.  And as the weeks went by, I saw my readership slowly increase.   As of this moment, I’ve had over 6,000 page views across 48 different countries.  What?!?  For a little newborn blogger like me, those numbers surpass my mind’s comprehension.  I’ve had many people contact me through the site…asking questions, offering words of support and some telling me that I helped light the fire to get their finances on track.  Most are complete strangers, who, through one channel or another, found my blog.

No one knows where this will go, or what will come of it, but I’ve already reaped more benefits than I imagined.  Thanks for joining me.

 

P.S.  Don’t forget…if you want to be one of the first to know about a new post, enter your email in the subscription box on the left-hand side.  You’ll never be spammed.  Pinky swear.

 

 

 

 

 

‘Expectations’ is a Dirty 12-Letter Word

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Yup.  That’s a dirty word in our house.  (And you counted the letters, didn’t you? Busted.)  Anyway, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always had expectations.  I guess you could say it borders on OCD, or could at least be classified as some minor form of it.  If things don’t line up the way I think they should or would, my insides cramp.  I get flustered, my pulse increases and I get a little…um…”snippy”.

On a chilly Saturday afternoon, about a week before this last Christmas, my husband and I had plans to go shopping and knock those final gifts off of our kids’ list.  I was already looking forward to our day together, even the Friday night before.  There was a little spring in my step, and I believe I may even have whistled while I did the dishes that night.  I really enjoy our time together, and had mentally laid out the next day in my mind.  Sleep in…pull on our “casual-Saturday-chic” clothing…stop and have a quiet Starbucks date…head out to the stores…have lunch at our favorite cafe…drop by the bookstore to browse…head home.

Saturday started out promising…we slept in.  But it went haywire from there.  Soon after waking up, our daughter prances out to the family room and announces she needs a prom dress.  My husband and I both say in unison…”Today?”  She looks around coyly.  “Yes, it has to be today because I’ve got cheer on Monday and Tuesday and then Wednesday is Youth Group and then…”  She continued her well-laid-out argument, and I admit, I stopped processing the words I was hearing.  In my head, she began to sound like an adult from the Peanuts cartoons.  “Wah-wah, wah-wah-wah.  Wah-wah-wah-wah.”

Don’t get me wrong.  I love her.  But her nickname around here is “Last-Minute Louie” for a reason.  Everything is needed today, or due tomorrow. She never could have known my plans for that afternoon, but in one sentence, an entire day’s worth of expectations were obliterated.  I wasn’t happy.  The three of us head out to the car.  My whole demeanor changed, and my husband called me out on it as we pulled away.  I didn’t want to make our daughter feel bad, certainly not.  But I couldn’t help but be…DISAPPOINTED.  I had an idea in my mind of how our day was going to go, and it didn’t happen.  Well, I take that back.  We ended up with 3 out of 6.   I slept in (there’s 1), pulled on my Saturday-chic clothes (there’s 2) and went to some stores to look at prom dresses (that kind of counts as 3).   I guess a 50% success ratio isn’t too bad. (That’s my pitiful effort to be positive.)

Last-Minute Louie in “the” prom dress. Her smile made it all worth it.

One day not too long after this occurred, when faced with yet another disappointment, my husband looked me straight in the eye, and said, “You know what the problem is? You’re not any less lucky in life than anyone else.  You just have far more expectations than the rest of us, so the odds are that some of yours won’t be met.”   Damn, I hate when he’s right.

Since that day, I’ve had several opportunities to let my unmet expectations get the best of me.  Many (but not all) of those times I’ve managed to change my outlook.  I’ve tried to be more like the GPS in my car.  Friend cancelled at the last minute?  Recalculating.  Driver doesn’t merge in the every-other-car pattern like everyone else?  Recalculating.  Dinner didn’t turn out as expected?  Recalculating.   I’m learning to work within the parameters I’m given, and make the best of the situation.

In fact, with a goal to retire in 7 years, that flexibility is crucial.   Because investing plans don’t always go as expected.  The stock market may not meet our projected returns.  We may not reach our savings goals every year.  Instead of focusing so hard on that magic number “7”, I’m learning to set aside my rigid, unforgiving expectations.  Maybe we’ll reach our goal on time.  Maybe we won’t.   But either way, you can call me Garmin…that reliable ‘ol GPS just finds the next best route given the situation, and so will I.

I Hate “SUBMIT Button” Remorse

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My fingertip hovered over the “SUBMIT” button for much longer than what would be considered normal. I fretted. I worried. I walked away and came back. I knew that once I hit the button, there was no going back. No changing our minds.

We’ve decided to give up our unlimited data plans on AT&T.

I know you just shuddered too, right? (Not.)   It may sound crazy and overly dramatic, but my husband and I have been back and forth over and over, trying to decide what to do.  I guess the finality of it just bothers me. You can’t even get unlimited data plans on AT&T anymore. Only those that had them originally were ‘grandfathered in’ and allowed to keep them. We are heavy data users, but the undeniable truth is that we were paying WAY TOO MUCH STINKIN’ MONEY each month on our cell phone bill. For four iPhones, we were paying $226 per month. Aye, aye, aye. (I know.  That’s outrageous. We may be budget-minded, but we’re Apple people, okay? So shoot us.)

I kept getting these annoying little messages from AT&T to join their new “Mobile Share Value Plan”.   There must be something in it for them.  So every time I read one, my stubborn alter-ego emerged……

“I WON’T BUY INTO YOUR EVIL PLAN AT&T!!! I WILL DIE BEFORE I LET GO OF MY UNLIMITED DATA PLAN!  I AM NOT YOUR PUPPET, AND I WILL NOT BE MANIPULATED!!!”

antipuppet

I beamed with pride (at myself).  I will NOT be a drone.   I will NOT give in to slick advertising.   I will stand valiantly atop the unlimited data plan hillside, with my “I WILL NOT SURRENDER!” flag staked firmly in the soil.

Before I go any further, let me declare that I’ve officially revealed a part of my personality I’m not proud of.  That is, if I detect that I’m being manipulated somehow, I will do everything I can to NOT do whatever “they” want me to do.  And by this point, AT&T was causing my manipulation-radar to go bananas.  But after a few weeks of these annoying messages,  I decided to step back and analyze it rationally; the way you should always approach financial decisions.   I needed to think about this expense with my head, and not my manipulation-radar.

AT&T estimated that with the new “slick” plan, our bill would be about $130 + taxes/fees, including my 23% corporate discount.   And if you remember from a few paragraphs back, we’re currently paying $226 a month.  The key to the new mobile share plan, is that instead of unlimited data, our 4 devices would share 10GB per month.  The next obvious question is…is 10GB enough?  Would we go over?  Would we be in a constant state of possible-data-overage-induced stress?  I had no sense of current usage, so I went on the AT&T website and reviewed our data usage for the last 12 months.  On average, we used a little less than 5GB monthly.  So even if we doubled our data usage, we still wouldn’t reach our maximum.  (And I do realize that there is something in it for AT&T; data usage will only increase over the years, so the fewer number of customers on unlimited data plans, the better it is for them.)

At this point, I knew what we needed to do.  It only makes sense for us to give up our unlimited data plans.  So we did.  We put up our imaginary white flag of surrender, and clicked “SUBMIT”.

Am I still a little uncomfortable with the idea that I can no longer be a wasteful glutton at the AT&T data buffet?  Yes.  Am I a little worried that my bill will not be as AT&T “estimated”?  Yes.  Am I afraid I’ll have a case of “SUBMIT button” remorse?  Absolutely.

Only time will tell…I’ll be sure to give you an update when I get my first ‘normal’ bill…

(Funny) Moment of the Week: An Awkward Conversation

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awkwardconvoI’ve figured something out the last week or so.   While this was created as a “personal finance” blog, and that angle is very satisfying, on occasion I think I’d like to look back on my week and see what things I accomplished, things I didn’t accomplish, humorous things that happened, etc.  So this is the first of many “moments of the week”, a sort of brain-dump if you will, of things I think are worth sharing.

One such humorous little gem occurred the other day, and it still makes me laugh, so I’m sharing it here.

It all started when I got an email.  The company that hosts my website, BlueHost, contacted me requesting to confirm some things about my new account.

So I called them up, and a nice gentleman answered the phone.

 

Nice Guy: “Thanks for calling BlueHost, this is Scott*. What can I do for you today?”

Me: “Hi, I received an email requesting I call you to confirm my new website.”

Nice Guy: “Ok, great. What is the web address of your site?”

Me: “Sure. It’s www.myshinynickels.com.”

Nice Guy: “Hmmm. It’s not coming up. Is this an adult site?”

Me: “Um, no……it’s just a personal blog.”

Nice Guy: “Hmmm. Ok. Let me repeat it back to you. w-w-w-dot-m-y-s-h-i-n-y-n-i-p-p-l-e-s-dot-com.”

[long pause………….]

Me: “Um, did you just spell myshinyNIPPLES.com? It’s supposed to be NICKELS, like the coin.”

[Another awkward, painfully long pause]

Nice Guy: “Ohhhhhhhhh ok, that makes more sense. Yup, here you are.  Sorry ’bout that.”

 

Then I pressed MUTE, and laughed. Hysterically.  Like in a crying-so-hard-I-can’t-see-because-my-tears-are-clouding-my-vision kind of way.   I managed to un-mute just long enough to squeak out ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers for the rest of the phone call, in between fits of laughter.  Then, finally, it was over.

Poor Scott, I’m sure that was far more awkward for him than it was for me.  And I’m 99% sure that he went home that night and told his [girlfriend/wife/mom] about it.

People often wonder what their purpose in life is.  Why they were put on this planet.  I’m starting to believe that my sole purpose in existing is to provide humor by way of awkward moments.  You’re welcome, Scott.  You’re welcome.

 

* Name has been changed

Guest Post by Mr. Nickels: Don’t Forget to Be Happy on the Way to Happiness

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unhappy-smiley

I’m not the talented writer of the family, but what the heck. I’ll give this a shot. Just know, if this flows and makes sense, Mrs. Nickels did some editing.

 

The Information “Sponge”

Gaining control of your finances as a couple is hard. Having to do it on your own without support is even more difficult. It has already been an adventure, and over time, our plan has continued to evolve. At first, it felt like a daily struggle. Obviously getting rid of the debt was the number one priority, then we started putting big chunks of our salary into retirement accounts.

Mrs. Nickels’ first wake up call was the catalyst that initially sent us on this wild ride, and being that she, by profession, analyzes statistics/finances, it was obvious to me that she should be in control of our retirement plan. And, it turns out, Mrs. Nickels is an information sponge. When she gets an idea in her head, she will read, read, and read more, in a never ending cycle. Then the Googling begins and she reads even more. I do have to say, when she wants something, she’s all in. (I’m lucky she wanted me).

Going Overboard

Then it happened. What I like to call the “Suze Orman” effect. We had a basic plan of what we wanted to do and we were diligently putting away money for our future. Then Mrs. Nickels read one of Suze Orman’s books. (Not a good idea.) It scared the crap out of her.  All of a sudden, so much money was going into our savings, that we were basically broke.

I probed to find out her thought process behind this move. She was scared. She was under the impression that if we didn’t feel the pain of saving, we weren’t saving enough. With no goal, we didn’t have a clue as to how much we should be saving, or how long it would take us to be financially independent. After some discussion and research, we arrived at a goal. Mrs. Nickels did some Excel magic and we had a timeframe to meet a goal that we were both happy with. And, we didn’t have to cut back to eating only three days a week to reach it.

Your goals and priorities need to be clearly defined. They may change, but not having a goal can lead to those “What the heck are we doing?” moments. Sure, we could live an extremely frugal lifestyle and reach our goal that much faster, but at what cost? What would our lives be like? Is it worth it to reach our goal but have no happiness along the way? It’s not worth it to us. We decided that we need to have a life while saving for a financially free life down the road.

Going Overboard (the other direction)

There are bad ideas that come out of thinking this way also. Soon after starting my new job, I got it in my head that we could afford to get me a new car. I always liked the BMW Z4. I started looking and saw the new body style for the first time. What a SWEET ride! I wanted that. We talked about it and came to the conclusion that we would make a large down payment and could afford the monthly payments while reaching our goals.

It would mean that our goals would be reached a year or so later, but we were already planning to retire early, what’s another year? Then I took a hard look at the numbers. Mrs. Nickels had put together a detailed spreadsheet of our retirement plan. After the realization of what this car would really cost, I quickly moved past my selfishness and made the right decision for us.

A Balancing Act

For our situation, it’s all about balance. There are things we could cut out to save even more money, but we aren’t willing to give up those things to shave just one more year off of our working lives. At the same time, most material possessions aren’t worth extending that working life either. We are constantly having discussions about our plans and where we want to be. Right now, the majority of our investments are in stocks, but we are considering moving into peer to peer lending and/or real estate. Are we willing to be landlords? Is the risk too high for peer to peer lending? These are questions we ask ourselves and discuss almost daily.

Communication is key to our success. It would suck to reach our goals and hate each other when we arrive. Our plan is to start our new financially free life the same way we started our married life. Happy and wanting nothing more than to be together. Being best friends and enjoying life.

Would You Rather Have Money in the Bank…or Look Like You Do?

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A few weeks ago, while sifting through an old memory box, I came across one of my childhood diaries.  It looked so aged; the bright pink and blue pattern on the cover had faded over time to dull pastels.  But the sight of it brought me right back to that time. 1987.  I was 9 years old.

I couldn’t help myself.  I cracked it open.  I began to read the excited, innocent and often dramatic musings that I wrote as a young girl.  One entry struck me.  It read:

“Dear Diary,

Yesterday was the best day ever.  We’re so rich.  My parents bought a new Camry, and my brother and I got a bunch of new toys. I also got a new pink sweater from Mervyn’s.  It’s SO CUTE! [entry continues…]”

Logic as a 9-year-old was that if we’re buying these new things, then we must have a lot of money.  But, we really didn’t.  My parents were financially responsible, so the fact that a new car coincided with a couple of new toys and a sweater was purely coincidental. It provides an interesting peek, however, into how I perceived wealth and money at that age.  A new car, toys and clothes were indicators that we were financially set.   But the reality was that while we were not living in poverty, we were not wealthy either.  We were a typical middle-class family with my dad as the wage-earner and my mom who was the stay-at-home parent.  We always managed to have enough, but we were far from rich.

The day I wrote that diary entry, I remember well.  I recall the excitement I felt.  But my feelings were connected to something greater than the thrill of newly-acquired material possessions.  I couldn’t have really known, or even described the greater sense of relief I felt, but looking back now, buried under the excitement was a calm peace that comes with financial security.  It may have been an illusion, but I felt it nonetheless.

Has Anything Changed?

This retrospective look back at my view of prosperity at 9-years-old got me thinking.  26 years later…what are my perceptions of wealth now?  What does it mean to be successful/prosperous/wealthy?  I can already say for certain that I’ve passed through several “stages” during these last 26 years.

In my late teens, being well-off meant your parents bought you a brand new car for your 16th birthday, and at anytime you could request a small lump sum of cash for a trip to the mall. You would not be questioned as to whether your household chores had been completed, as you had none.  Then came the “house-poor” 20’s.  I had a well-paying job; it was a race to see how much I could acquire, and I figured that the bigger the house, the more successful I must be.   Cars, a larger home, TVs,  nice furniture…check. Going into my 30’s, I began outsourcing various tasks I found unpleasant.  A weekly cleaning service was hired, a gardener began to take care of the yards, a trip to the nail salon every week or so, an expensive hair stylist, and a monthly restaurant expenditure of $1,500 a month.

What those years represent is the chasing of a feeling.  The constant, relentless pursuit of that moment when you feel that you’ve arrived and you’re finally living in abundance.  But despite the fact that I was surrounded in nice things, in a spacious suburban home, with hired help taking care of less-desirable tasks, that moment didn’t come.  I was still viewing prosperity through the glasses of a 9-year-old girl; if I just acquire enough, it will mean I must have lots of money.  It will mean I’m financially secure.  But, I wasn’t.  I had cars, but no money.  I had nice furniture, but no money.  My kids were in private preschool, but I…had…no…money.  While my gardener mowed my lawn, he probably had more in his checking account than I did.

Do You Feel Successful Now?……How About Now?……Or, Now?

But what I find interesting, is that during all of the mad, crazy spending I never felt “prosperous”.   It was just my life.  Even though our bank statements showed some nice deposits, it showed withdrawals at the same rate or faster.   Every month was just another run on the hamster wheel.  Money comes in, money goes out, without anything meaningful to show for it.  Annual pay increases would come, and…nope, still didn’t feel financially secure; and they were often spent before they were earned.

When my spending finally caught up with me a few years ago, I had my first financial wake-up call.  I had reached the bottom of a giant chasm, and there was nowhere left to go but up.  We turned our finances around with a fierce intensity. Soon the $40,000 in debt was paid off, and then we had our second financial wake-up call.  It wasn’t long before money was being saved…at a very fast rate.  The chronic stress I didn’t realize I had, was falling away.  With every deposit into our investment account, I had a feeling of exhilaration.  And the “high” wasn’t temporary.  At any time, I could check our account, and see the progress we were making.   I was no longer chasing the high that comes with the consumption of “stuff”.   I moved from the “law of diminishing returns” to a place of increasing returns.  Returns on investments that were growing on a daily basis.

For me, feeling financially at peace didn’t lie in what we spent, but in what we kept.  For so long, we spent all of our money and energy chasing the ILLUSION of prosperity, instead of prosperity itself.

And while we spend less and save more than we ever have before, we’ve managed to simultaneously increase our satisfaction with life.   I find happiness in things where money isn’t necessary; playing board games with my children, making s’mores in the backyard, a bike ride and picnic with my husband.

The Milestone

I’ll never forget the excitement when we reached that first $100,000 milestone.  In 2 years, we had gone from $40,000 in debt to $100,000 saved and invested.  I stared at the number, took a screen shot on my laptop to capture the moment, and smiled.

100kMilestone

Sitting there on the sofa in my living room, the smile soon turned to a release of tears.  Not a flood, but just a few.  I could barely grasp what we’d accomplished, yet I could see our future in my mind; imagining where we’d be in a month, a year, 5 years.

The excitement was familiar to me; but this time it wasn’t connected to the thrill of newly-acquired material possessions.  This time it wasn’t an illusion of financial security as seen by a 9-year-old girl.  I was excited and at peace, and this time…it was real.

 

Life Stories: A Second Wake-Up Call…the Tragedy that Changed Our Lives

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If you know me well, or have at least read my “ABOUT ME” page, you know that our goal is to retire early.  Not to come squealing into the 65-years-of-age retirement finish line at the last second, but to beat that mark by a wide margin.   I’m often asked by people, “Why?”…to which I reply…”Why not?”   There is nothing that says I have to wait until Social Security kicks in to enjoy a life of financial independence.  I want to sleep in ’til noon if I like, take a bike ride with my husband in the middle of the afternoon or even travel for months at a time to far-away places.

But it takes dedication and commitment.  We all know that anything you truly want, way deep down, is worth some sacrifice.  We currently put away just over 60% of our net income into investments.  Between our extreme savings rate, and the true magic of compound interest, the balance will grow quickly.  Our target is $1.25 million dollars, and according to several calculators, we’ll get there in less than 8 years.

Now that I’ve answered the “Why do you want to retire early?”, I’ll answer those that ask, “What gave you that crazy idea in the first place?”

It was the second wake-up call.

Near the end of 2012, the day after Christmas in fact, my husband started a new job.  A few months later, he came home to tell me he’d found out something rather morbid that day.  He was told that Sam*, the guy formerly in his position, had died…at work.  Sam was in his early 60’s and was only months away from retirement.  7 months, to be exact.  Other employees recalled him coming into work each morning with a cheery announcement of how many working days he had left…he could see the day coming  where he would finally walk out the door to start the next chapter of his life.  He didn’t know that day would never come.

Naturally, I asked my husband what happened.

It’s November 20th, two days before Thanksgiving.  Sam stands up from his desk, grabs his coffee cup and begins walking down the main hallway.  Without warning…he collapses.  Coworkers rush to him, and immediately begin CPR.  He was having a heart attack.  While the efforts to resuscitate continue, the paramedics arrive.  But it was too late.  He died right there on the floor. 

Days after hearing that story, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I started asking myself things like…”Am I going to work and save for 40 years just to end up dying before I can enjoy it?”…”Am I doing all I can to reach my financial goals?”…”Can I reach them any faster?”

What was once a plan to put in 40 years with a respectable savings effort,  has become a determination to save/invest our way to retirement in less than 8 years from now.  You only have one life to live.  Are you going to (a) make changes to live life on your terms as soon as possible, (b) come squealing into the retirement finish line at 65…or (c) never have enough to retire at all?

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A few days into his new job, my husband is sitting at his desk, in Sam’s old office.  He rolls over to the computer,  and opens a spreadsheet that is sitting on the desktop.

He calls out to his manager, “What are these numbers on the right-hand side?”

“That’s Sam’s countdown. To retirement.”

 

 

* Name has been changed to respect privacy

Throwback Thursday: (One of) The Most Embarrassing Stories of My Life

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(NOTE: If you’re looking for my personal finance blog, don’t be alarmed. You’re at the right place.  But occasionally I think it’s important to set the debt and finance stuff aside so that you may have a bit of fun at my expense…by enjoying an embarrassing-but-true story from my childhood.  You’re welcome.)

Yes, that’s me. Circa 1984. Mentally do some age-progression by adding some sky-high curled bangs and lip gloss to visualize me in 6th Grade.

6th grade is a time of growth; you’re at the top of the elementary school food chain, but you’re still a little green, still a little naïve. You’re beginning to feel a bit “grown up”, and well, mature.  Looking back on my own 6th grade year, I was a gifted student, and quite book smart.  Spelling was, by far, my strongest subject.

But even with book smarts, I sometimes lacked common sense.  (Like the time I accidentally popped the button off my jeans while getting ready for school, and decided to secure it with a diary lock that was sitting conveniently on my dresser.  Too bad I left for school with the key still in my nightstand. Let’s just say my mother was not pleased when she had to drive down to my school to bring me the key so I could use the restroom. Apologies for the sidebar, let’s continue.)

Every spring, my elementary school held a school-wide spelling bee.  The winners from each class would compete on stage in the school cafeteria.  As usual, I was ready without a lick of studying.  I out-spelled everyone in my class, and then moved up to the school-wide spelling bee. I breezed through that competition as well, winning with the word “SUITE”.  It was official…I was the Bancroft Elementary Spelling Bee Champion. In just a few short weeks, it would be time to compete at the city-wide Sacramento Spelling Bee, to compete against the other top students in the city.

The day came. I was glowing that crisp spring morning…my principal came to the house, picked up my mom and I in his late-model Lincoln Continental, and drove us to the auditorium.  I had thought carefully about my outfit that morning…New Kids on the Block sweatshirt, cowgirl denim skirt and Keds with socks. Even then, I was a fashion icon.

I walked inside the auditorium and immediately my body filled with dread…there were hundreds of people in the crowd, and a whole lot of really smart looking kids walking around.  But I forged on,  determined to avoid last place, at the least.

The competition began, with 50 students from all over the city in 5 rows of 10, sitting onstage.

Round after round, I correctly spelled each word. Slowly I began to realize that the group of 50 had dwindled down to around 25.  A very sweet elderly woman started passing a tray down the rows; it held a pitcher of water and some cute little Dixie paper cups.  Out of nervousness and a tendency to fidget, I grabbed a cupful every time it passed.

Time went on.  I continued my winning streak.  Then I felt it…that tiny, tingly little urge that I would have to excuse myself soon…the restroom was calling.  For a while, I ignored it.  And ignored it some more.  That is, until an achy, slightly-uncomfortable feeling started coming over me…I really had to go, and I mean REALLY. HAD. TO. GO.  But something was keeping me from leaving the stage…fear.  Fear that if I left the stage to relieve my oh-so-achy bladder, that they wouldn’t let me back to the stage and I would forfeit my chance of winning.  So, in my 6th-grade ignorance, I kept myself glued to the off-white metal folding chair onstage.

By this time, the number of competitors was further dwindling and I found myself sitting among just a handful of kids.  The water continued to pass along the rows.  Then it came…the feelings of sudden and immense dread when you realize you’ve waited…too…long.

It flowed…what began as a trickle quickly developed into a steady yellow stream, pooling onto my chair, reaching the edge, and finally breaking the surface tension enough to cause spillage onto the floor.  I was now sitting in a pool of urine, yet stone-faced as to not give away that something majorly inconvenient had occurred.  It wasn’t long before I could hear whispers, laughter and gasps of horror from the few remaining kids around me.  Then they called my name…it was my turn.

I rose valiantly from my chair and walked to the podium, creating a trail of drips the entire way.  I had played with the idea of misspelling on purpose just to get me off the stage, but no, I wasn’t goin’ down like that.  With every word I spelled correctly, more and more attention became focused on me and the saturated skirt I was wearing.

Then, after what seemed like a small eternity, it was finally down to just two; myself and a boy named Miles Davis. I had already come this far, and I wasn’t backing down now.  As we both moved to the front of the stage, he stood a good 10 feet away from me.  I’m sure he was desperately trying to distance himself from either the embarrassment or the stench of pee, or both.

In the final round, Miles incorrectly spelled his word (what it was is escaping me at the moment), which opened the door for me. I took a long deep breath, and spelled the winning word, P-R-O-S-P-I-C-I-E-N-C-E.  I could hardly believe it.  I was the 1990 Sacramento City Spelling Bee Champion…wearing a urine-soaked denim cowgirl skirt and damp Keds that now squeaked when I walked.  Camera flashes began going off; I posed for picture after picture. I had never imagined my first paparazzi experience would be so humiliating.

A few weeks later, the pictures showed up in our school newsletter, the Bancroft Banner.  There I was, holding my trophy…clearly displaying a look of forced enthusiasm on my face.  At the moment those photos were taken, there were no inner thoughts of grandeur or exhilaration running through my mind. Not even close.  My only thought was “I wonder if anyone has a spare change of clothes…”