MiCasaLoca

Rich People

Today Mari Carmen asked Daddy and I while we were bumping our way in the Land Rover to a Girl Scouts meeting,

"Were you on welfare when you were poor?"

Funny, I answered her question and it wasn't until later that I wondered why she had asked what she had...and why she asked it then at that moment.  I wondered what she was thinking at that moment, but instead I wanted her to have the answer that she sought. 

Of course, the question is more like,

"Who is considered poor" in America.  There are many varieties of "poor" people in the United States.  It has always been an interesting and controversial subject.  Is a person poor if they do not have any money in their savings account, but each month, they spend $35 on new nails and $60 on Starbucks while talking on their $50 a month cell phone? A coworker of a friend complains about how little money she has, yet this is her current lifestyle.  John and I weren't poor;  we didn't have a lot of money to waste so we lived very frugal lives.  We were happy;  we had a roof over our heads, a car that chugged up hills and through snow, and enough food to feed a king.  We were rich compared to people in many different countries.  What is poor in our nation?  I know there are a lot of different answers...and I will probably blog in the future about this very interesting and complicated subject.

As I was thinking about this subject for some time now (and have been wanting to blog about it...but there's only so little time to blog), I came across a interesting  calculator on a guy's blog in Japan.  The guy observes Japan in such a way that an outsider would that I was surprised to find that he was born there;  I had been certain he was military or a transplant of some sort.  Anyway, his blog has a neat calculator that determines if, in fact, the Japanese are richer....Are they?  I do not believe so.  If I lived there, would I be eating McDonalds?  I try to avoid it here...if I was there, I would live off what the natives eat-that's where the question of wealth should be, I think.  How much does their rice cost in comparison to ours?  That's more of a determining factor...how much does their average "every day" items cost in comparison to ours?  When I was in Germany, if I bought German products made by Germans for Germans, it was very cheap.  But, if I tried to buy an American product, the price went up very quickly.  I got some great dress shoes for a very low price for their quality...they were made in Germany and were "in style" for Germans (some of their shoes were so far out that I wanted to buy a pair to wear here in the U.S. just for shock value, but I would rather have the attention on my face than my feet!). 

Microwaves to Moving to PackRats

While I was outside to rescue my poor dogs from a miniature pincher, my chocolate milk almost boiled over...not in the microwave, but on the stove. We have lived here for nearly two months without a microwave and I have actually become quite familiar with the idea that everything has to be heated the "old fashion way." Now, this does not mean that we aren't buying a microwave. Once we figure out where will put one and what kind we need, I am sure we will buy one. It does seem like a bit of a waste to heat the oven for 10 minutes and then heat just one muffin. Our gas bill was a bit high compared to the townhome, but then I have to remember that we heat the house and water with gas and we dry our clothes with gas, whereas the townhome was equipped to just heating the water. I should expect our electric bill to be lower...whenever it comes...which should be any day...unless we never switched it over to our names. There's so much to be done with a move that sometimes the task becomes overwhelming. I suspect that it will be around March before I finish unpacking all the boxes which leads me to question,

"Where did all this stuff come from?" I know that in the beginning we could blame our family for all their generous material donations, but I know that we aren't able to do this anymore as it has been years since this has occurred. And I am realistic. A lot of our "stuff" is what we need to live with as we need it every day. But still...it was a nightmare when we packed up the truck and ran out of room! I am not one to brag and this cannot be defined as such. It's more a "gasp" of horror. Our new (old) house is somewhat bigger than the townhouse (but not by much). Things fit better in our new place, but then there's the mountain of boxes beckoning me. In fact, the more I write about it, the more I get the "itching" to go unpack...at least I could donate some of it. I have always wanted to think of myself as a light traveler. I'M NOT AND NEITHER IS MY FAMILY! Mari now wants to collect bottle caps. If she finds anything of hers, she wants to keep it, even if it is something she hasn't played with in years. And with the new addition, I know we are going back to PHASE 1 of baby toys...

Over the years I have learned the Pledge of the Pack Rat. Basically, the pledge is topsecret and if I write it down, I could possibly put my family in danger, so I am only going to review the "Official Rules of the Pack Rat" authored by the expert, me.  These rules have been formulated from years of observation of others around me.

1. As soon as we throw it away, we are going to need it. -This has been so true!  There have been so many times where I have rid us of that extra something only to need it a week later.
2. It has a significant history.-Ex: I took a brick I found in the house and put it in the backyard.  It was actually a brick from John's great-grandfather's house.  Fortunately, he retrieved it before we moved.
3. It has sentimental value. -This one is tricky and I have managed to deal with it the best I can.  Basically, there's only so many things that can be considered to have this value before it becomes ridiculous.
4. It might be handy as something else. -Shame on Martha for her "homemaking shows."  Martha taught me, if you don't have an "official" storage jar, just use the next handy thing, like that teapot that has a chip in the spout.  Martha is probably in prison sewing decorations into the prision towels and growing flowers in the toliet urns.
5. It's my kids stuff.  They will have to decide what to keep. -This is a bit tough as kids can be very sentimental...as well as parents.  Of course, when there's a whole basket of broken crayons, it's time to find a good art project (like melting them down into a sculpture).

...Of course, there is light at the end of the tunnel. When our children are grown and we are old, we will slowly give away our possessions to them, sell them on Ebay, and move into a smaller place. Then, later, one of us will pass on, and the other will move into a smaller place with fewer possessions. Then I will blog of the "good ole' days" of when I had a house filled with stuff. How ironic.

Chronologies of a Land Rover Addition, or, “No, It’s Not a Jeep” Part Two

Dave was the owner of the Land Rover that we purchased this weekend. He had an 8 year old girl who was very cute, but she was not talking to John, as she was very unhappy. She looked adorable in the picture with her black soccer shorts, but the poor girl didn’t know that by posing in the pictures as a door opener, it would be one of her last dates with the rhino chaser. She loved the Land Rover and John was an evil troll coming to take it from her (not really her words). I understand. I think that there are a lot of girls who fall in love with cars at early ages in spite of all the media that portrays us as Barbie huggers. Maybe we are smarter as girls because we don’t want to fool around with model cars at an early age. Instead, we go for the real stuff. I had an early love with a two door no-air cond. sports car that my parents sold while living in Puerto Rico; later I had a love for my Dad’s blue Ford pickup truck where I carved the initials of my first love (not John, but Ken-and we aren’t talking Barbie’s boyfriend either). I also learned to drive the Ford in a hayfield at the age of fifteen and that’s quite a feat considering it was stick-shift and I had to be careful and not hit the men throwing the hay bales in the back. Then, finally, there was the mini van that I sort of took over during my senior year of high school. Talk about a classic!

My own Mari fell in love with our old black jeep Wrangler at the early age of 6 and didn’t understand why we wanted to part with the car. There were many tears and questions that we really couldn’t answer to satisfy her needs as to why the car had to go. This last Sunday I couldn’t be sure if Mari was anxious for Daddy to return because she missed him or because she was excited about the Land Rover that had a real ladder on the back "just for kids to climb on" as I had said. As we are about to honor the tradition of naming our Rover, I have to consider that as the Land Rover lost one adoring young fan, it has acquired another equally adoring fan. There should be a name to describe this wonderful girlish love of cars.

Guns and Planes

A helicopter just went over our house so low that it shook the ceiling lamp, my table that held my laptop and the floor beneath me. I was wondering if it was planning to land on my yard, and made me think of the days when I lived in Puerto Rico right next to the airport. It was so commonplace to watch the cups dance across the table when a few airplanes were told to reroute their landing by way of our apartments. I was so familiar with the sounds that it was never a question as to why I wanted to become a pilot. Now I am glad I am not a pilot as I see the commercial pilots as just glamorized taxi drivers. Those poor people must be incredibly bored-no wonder they have fought so to carry guns on board! I personally fear the idea of pilots carrying guns even though I do believe people should be allowed to own guns. All too often I have heard of guns somehow ending up in the wrong hands. I would hate to think that the gun that was suppose to protect the passengers was actually used against them, even if by accident. What if a man who supposedly looked Arabic, and who was actually Filipino, (like my brother-in-law who has been mistaken for many different races), is suffering from indigestion so he’s looking a bit upset and is pacing a little. Oh my gosh, grab the gun!! No, I am not really interested in pilots carrying guns on any plane that I am flying on.

Chronologies of a Land Rover Addition, or, “No, It’s Not a Jeep”

This is the beginning of a series of entries about our newest addition to our family. As I tend to introduce stories in the middle and then later fill in the details later, I have decided this would the best approach rather than bore myself writing in all the details of how, why, and what before getting to the "juicy" details. These details are really for car, history, and number fanatics as the rest of the world falls asleep over stories about cars.

Before I begin, let's drool over a picture of our new addition.  Here is John and Dave in front of the 1974 Series III 109 SW that will take us on many camping (and hiking) adventures. 

Just for funsies, here's another picture of John demonstrating what it is like to have your ears fall over in 10 degree weather.  Note the placement of the driver's seat.

John came home tonight at 9:30. He had a weekend of adventure, starting by flying out to Iowa, a little-known state that I believe none of our family members, including ancestors, to have ever been to. Mari was very upset that she wasn’t able to go to this other country that Daddy was "gonna get to go to." We explained to her several times that Iowa was one of our 50 states. We didn’t mention that it was a Red state; she probably would have insisted that we not purchase the vehicle from a Bush supporting state, regardless of the idea that perhaps the seller was Democratic. In fact, we would probably have had to lie to her and tell her that he was pro Kerry before she wouldn’t have let John out of the house. I am not sure where Mari decided to become so passionate about politics except that John and I are very passionate about certain ideals, anyway, so it's probably natural for her to pick her own "soap boxes" to stand on and "preach" from.  Personally, I don't care if The Home Depot supports the RNC as long as their employees are friendly and can help me find the best bird feeders and 2x4's.  I would hate to see the RNC lose support as I think our country needs at least two large organizations pointing fingers at each other, blaming the other for everybody's greed and mistakes.  Democratics...Republicans...sometimes the line is so blurred I am not sure which side I am stepping on.  Still, I really wouldn't lie to Mari about the Land Rover's previous owner's political stance, but teach her to be open-minded.  I am tired of labels for each side.  Can't a Christian be a Democrat?  Can't an African American be a Republican?  I should think so.  Anyway, I digress....   

Initially, John and I wanted to travel together to see the vehicle; better still, the three of us wanted to make the trip to Iowa but it was a bit cost-prohibitive, so in the end, it was decided that John should go as he was the best expert on Land Rovers. I was second in line as I can at least recognize a good car from a bad one, and Mari was third as she desired anything that could be "climbed" on.

Unfortunately, after a wild weekend of cleaning the house with Laura, I wasn’t able to start the entries about our Land Rover and John is now home, looking handsomely rugged. He is tired, and wants to go to bed; funny enough, someone smells like gasoline in here and it’s not me.  I mean, I was only in the Land Rover for 20 minutes.  Mari is very excited about the idea that the vehicle will always smell like gas;  she loves the smell of gas. 

In the dark, the Rover looked great.  I was suprised by how comfortable the interior was.  And the amount of head room was suprising compared to the 109 Rover that we saw in Philly.  Maybe it had something to do with the seats or the fact that we were in the dark.  It was also immaculate, minus John's half empty soda bottle.  Don't tell John this, but I could see a lot more than an additional baby car seat.  I could see a toddler seat fit in just nicely next to a baby car seat.... 

Well, since the guy says he's tired-why, I don't know, I mean, after all, he only drove 24 hours.  Gee, complain complain!  So we are off to bed and I will have to blog some other night.

The selfish part of blogging this whole experience is that it guarantees that John will read my blog, finally, without my constant asking of him. My biggest writing advocate doesn’t have me under his favorites on his email at work. Aughhhhh!!!!!!

Chicken Dinner

A few weeks ago I made a delicious chicken soup. The chicken was put aside and forgotten in the back of the fridge where it froze. Tonight it was discovered, thawed in the oven, and served in a bowl as part of Mari’s dinner. Here’s the result of that conversation.

"Honey, eat your chicken." I had put salt on it.

"But it’s hard," whined Mari.

"It’s hard?" Here’s some time to stall. I had actually thought we had eaten dinner earlier in the evening, but Mari was hungry again.

"Yeah, it’s haaarrrrddd." This time, the word "hard" had several syllables added and the pitch went up and down. Rory eyed the chicken, her nose dangerously near. Maybe if we aren’t looking or if we just forget the chicken was there at all....

"Baby, pretend it’s jerky. You like beef jerky-well, this is like having chicken jerky."

"But I don’t like beef jerky. You said the beef gets jerked around." Of course, I had only been joking, but she remembers everything. "I don’t want to think that the chicken was jerked around before it got to me." Rolling of eyes- this time mine.

In the end, the dogs and cat had a nice after-dinner treat.

Mischief

We have a great life. We do. I am love with my life.

There are, of course, just a few mishaps that shake things up a bit. There are little things that really aren’t a big deal to us.

Let’s take last night for example. It was Friday, cold and raining. It had rained all day and our really wet "no-grass" yard was a big mud yard. And the dogs did need to use the restroom. And the leashes that were supposedly in the car, weren’t. In fact, they were MIA. So I had to just let the dogs run out and go. They came back in through the kitchen where I pinned them in until their muddy paws could dry up a bit, or more importantly, the kitchen floor could become black with mud instead of the rest of the house. This wasn’t a big deal at all except I was very tired and we had just gotten home. So I, being the smart Mommy, decided to leave the dogs in the kitchen while I go upstairs and snuggle with Mari for awhile, hoping to catch a bit of energy. About 20 minutes later I come down to a kitchen floor covered with dirty guinea pig shavings. Echo had gotten into the shavings that were in a small garbage bag waiting to go out. Whoever says that people who have dogs don’t know what it is like to have a kid have never had dogs. Echo is great as he has really re-taught me to baby proof the house again.

This weekend has disappeared before it really began. Already I could see the time whittled away before I could start it. The lack of energy and tiredness is not a diet issue; I eat better than a meat eater, watching what I eat to make sure I have a balance. I guess it is just part of being pregnant except that I really can’t remember. I should take a half day during the week just to catch up on some of the things around the house, assuming I won’t come home and just go to bed.

Owen Charles Harris

Owen Charles Harris entered our world on Sunday, November 7, 2004.  His proud parents, Stacy and Brett, and his sister, Aslan, welcomed his little person into this world after waiting for over 9 months for him to arrive.  Family on all sides rejoices at his arrival and phone calls are made.  What a glorious day and what a tremendous responsibility for the parents.  So many decisions, and then we question which are the best for our children.  What we are doing now will help determine how our children will survive adulthood.  It is a wonderful joy to have children and a bit of an adventure as well.  I don't believe a person can truly "grow" completely without being responsible for children as then that's when the real learning begins!

Instructions for the Insanely Late People Part One

In my family, there is a genetic trait for us to be late. I am not sure who is exactly to blame, but I have come up with a solution to being “on-time.” My daughter says the solution is to get up early, but this is not so simple for people who are doomed to be late. My method works and has worked very well for me up until very recently when I moved and needed to revise my schedule. Fortunately, Mark (my employer) has been quite forgiving at my few mishaps, but his patience shouldn’t be tested. Therefore, as I draw up another plan for myself, I felt it would be nice to share this pseudo schedule for others. Now, of course, it is very important to remember to edit the list according to what is priority. For example, one would not try to “potty” the dogs if there were none living in the house. This seems very obvious, but recently I was speaking to someone and I had this conversation.

Me: [talking about making a schedule] “You tell him that for two afternoons, say Monday and Thursdays, you will be going to the pool as soon as he gets home, say 5 p.m.”
Friend: “Oh no, I can’t go at that time. The rush hour is terrible!”

Sadly, my friend had missed my point...or maybe I hadn’t been terribly clear in my point. I was trying to stress that this friend should set a time each week to go to the pool, but instead the friend was too focused on the details.

Now this list is actually quite detailed. I think too often genetically “perpetually-late people” unfortunately skip out on the details. My mother, who is incredibly organized, allowed herself a two hour window to get ready for church on Sundays. Unfortunately, she never drew up a list of what needed to be done versus what could wait and she didn’t prioritize or delegate responsibilities. She would be the one, for as long as I could remember, except for a few exceptions, who got my sister and I up, picked out my clothes, pushed us to brush our teeth and put our shoes on, and get our things ready for church. I think Dad was responsible for the breakfast bit. Then Mom would close up the shutter windows-in case Puerto Rico decided to have a blowing rain shower-clean out the cat box and feed the cat-put away a load of laundry-do the breakfast dishes-pick up in the living room-take a 40 minute bath-dress-apply makeup-sweep the kitchen floor-and put lunch out to thaw. Obviously, this made us very late. Meanwhile, Dad sat on the couch and grumbled about how late we were going to be, looking up from reading his newspaper. Now Mom had tried delegating, but her patience and teaching strength was limited as the few times my Dad did have the task of dressing me (when I was little) he managed to botch it up royally, like putting my shoes on the wrong feet and other more embarrassing details that are best left un-blogged. Hopefully I won’t be disinherited from my family, or more importantly, my Dad will not retaliate by refusing to finish my walking stick for having shared this family secret. Dad deserves his own entry in this “workshop of writing” that is nicknamed a “blog” because he was and is a fantastic dad. (Phew! Have I dug myself out of the hole I have created? Using childhood examples can be dangerous even if it means complimenting one parent).

Instructions for the Insanely Late People Part Two

Ok, on to the now famous list.
The 1st step is to make a list of activities that have to be done every morning, regardless.
The 2nd step would be to try to figure out how long each activity takes. This part can be modified later as I have learned that I thought it took 3 minutes to lock up the house and walk to the car, but with Mari it actually takes about 8 minutes.

A. Wake, put on slippers. (2 min.)
B. Dogs go potty. (8 min.)
C. Feed dogs, cat. (8 min.)
D. Wake Mari who complains about the smell emitting from my mouth. (10 min.)
E. Brush teeth. (2 min.)
F. Wake Mari again. (8 min.)
G. Put on pet-hair loving clothes over business clothes. (10 min.)
H. Check to see if Mari is actually getting dressed. (3 min.)
I. Pass out over Mari’s breath and make joke about selling it to the government. (30 sec.)
J. Tell Mari to brush teeth and check to make sure she is. (2 min.)
K. Make breakfast. (15 min.)
L. Eat breakfast. (15 min.)
M. Pack lunches in bag. (4 min.)
N. Dogs go potty again. (10 min.)
O. Lock doggies in basement in crates w/ appropriate bones. (5 min.)
P. Gather bags and coats. (5 min.)
Q. Tell Mari to go through door. Lock door. (5 min.)
R. Walk to car, load kid in car. (8 min.)
S. Drive to Mari’s school. (15 min.)
T. Drop Mari off. (5 min.)
U. Drive to work. (10 min.)
V. Park. (5 min.)
W. Arrive at work to make tea before 9 a.m.

Now, I know this list looks tedious but it is actually quite helpful in narrowing down what needs to be done versus what could be done. It also gives an idea to what time one should actually wake up in the morning to allow oneself enough time. I mean, whoever would think that it would take a modest 2.5 hours to just feed a few mutts, get dressed, and go to work. Only...that’s not all that’s going on. This method was invented when I was going to full time school and part time work. There seemed to be no time for homework and once I drew up all the activities that had to be done in the day, I realized there weren’t any real chunks of time for homework except on the weekends. That was troublesome and something I should have considered before signing up for classes. I have since eliminated many of my “have to” activities so I can make time for homework (for when I am in school).

Some people have a knack for just being on time, but then there’s the rest of us who need a little extra push. Obviously I don’t follow this schedule exactly to the minute, but now I have an idea as to what time I need to get up. I could very well (and have in the past) printed an abbreviated schedule to post to help me keep track of my priorities. Here’s the modified schedule.
1. Wake up at 6:30.
2. Pets potty and fed.
3. Wake Mari.
4. Dress.
5. Make and eat breakfast.
6. Pack lunches and bags.
7. Potty dogs and put in crates.
8. Lock up.
9. Arrive at school.
10. Arrive at work at 9.

Here I have eliminated the extra 13 steps, but I know that I have a 2.5 hour window to work in. This method guarantees a person to not be late and once the listing begins, its’ amazing how one can use it for say, going to a party, or attending a church meeting, or making it to a doctors’ appointment on time!