Over the past few days I've been picking up my copy of The Complete Tightwad Gazette and coming up with some really good ideas to save money. It's not like we're hurting or anything - we can buy pretty much whatever we want - but we did get set back some due to the wedding, and I'd like to grow a bigger cushion since our lease is up May 31 and we're probably going to hire movers to lug our stuff into our new place. Not to mention the costs we'll have with security deposits and trying to repair the carpet in our apartment (the cats have torn it up some).
So I've been visiting some money-saving sites and analyzing our finances, and I've determined that we spend a lot of money needlessly. We're very dependent on convenience foods, like frozen dinners and potato chips, which are mucho expensive if you think about the per-serving price. For example, we bought a large bag of Lay's Baked Potato Chips at HEB last week for $3.39. That bag will yield about 8 servings. So each little baggie of chips that I take to work is costing me 42 cents. Compare that to the humungo bag of pretzels I bought at Family Dollar today for $1. The pretzel bag is packed really tightly, unlike the potato chips, so I figure it'll get us through 15 lunches, at least. That adds up to 7 cents a serving at the most. Why spend 35 cents more?
I'm not saying that I want to live a miserable tightwad existence with no fun. But I do think that our money could be spent more wisely. I'd rather eat average-tasting, fairly cheap dinners 6 nights a week and then have something really good at a nice restaurant on the seventh night, instead of sorta-good dinners every night. I want to save our money so we can spend it on the things that we really want, like a king-size bed and new bedroom furniture to replace the godawful stuff we have now. So here are some of my resolutions:
Buy detergent, soap, cleaners, shampoo etc. at Family Dollar or Dollar General (it's the same stuff for a lot less $$)
Pack lunches to work every day instead of going out (this goes for both Mark and me)
Limit Starbucks to one grande latte a week and make more lattes at home with the new espresso maker we got as a wedding present
Make cheaper dinners - chicken, pasta, casseroles, etc. Make sure to use up all leftovers.
Make homemade granola bars instead of the prepackaged ones (better-tasting and less expensive)
Grow tomatoes on the patio
Keep a grocery pricebook
For those of you who aren't familiar with the concept of a pricebook, I'll tell you. For the next month or so do your weekly shopping at all the different grocery stores you can. Save your receipts. Then get a loose-leaf binder and make a separate page for each item (tomato sauce, peanut butter, whatever). There should be six columns: Date, Store, Brand, Size, Price, Unit Price. Fill in all the information for each item on its page. Pretty soon you'll have a quick reference as to which store has the best price on pasta, which has chicken breasts for the least amount of money, and so on. Then you just shop for those items where you can find them the lowest. I've only been doing it for a couple of days, but I have been told that it can save you money, even when you factor in the cost of driving around (visit the grocery stores one right after the other to make it more time-efficient). Oh yeah, and save the grocery circulars...Store A may normally not offer the best price on cereal, but one week it may have a "loss leader" sale that beats all of its competitors. It's all about paying attention.
I know a lot of this sounds nit-picky, but dammit, there are a lot of things that I want to buy and if we could cut down on the unimportant things, we'd be able to afford them and STILL have a lot of money left over. I want a new bedroom set and a new car. And we also want to start saving for a house. Mark will graduate next year and we'll probably be moving to Houston or something to live for a while.
Oh yes, FITNESS STUFF...I didn't go to yoga last night. I had a lot of stuff to do, such as buying tomato plants at Home Depot, and Mark convinced me to go tonight with him instead. I do miss yoga, but I'm afraid that after being away so long I'm going to embarrass myself by falling. Like I did when I first started out.
Wow. I'm sure some of you have been wondering if someone else has taken over this journal. Wedding stuff one day, war talk the next. I apologize to anyone who has been coming here to read about diet and fitness.
As you might imagine, my weight loss has stagnated somewhat due to the fact that I hardly exercised the week before and the week of my wedding. But I'm getting back on track and I feel better than ever. Tonight will make the fifth straight night that I've worked out (tonight's yoga for me). I'm eating granola in the mornings and a turkey sandwich with fruit for lunch. Yogurt is today's mid-afternoon, pre-workout snack. I think we're eating baked chicken for dinner. No more restaurant food - partly because we need to recoup our losses from this wedding and partly because it makes me feel like crap. OK, so I did have a grande caramel macchiato (nonfat) from Starbucks this morning. Sue me. Mark went to Taco Cabana yesterday, so we're even now.
Surprisingly, I only gained a pound over those 2 weeks. I haven't checked the scale lately, but I'm sure that extra pound is either gone or mostly gone by now. Cool.
My goal for the rest of this year is to get my eating under control. I don't know what it is. Wait, I do. I have no willpower. I love food and if something delicious is within arm's reach, I'm all over it. I also have a husband who eats whatever he wants and pressures me to do the same. We HAVE to have a frozen pizza for dinner every Friday, according to him. He makes me feel ridiculous (not to mention jealous) for eating salad or fish while he chows down on a large pepperoni. I've gotten him down to a thin crust pizza instead of pan, which helps, but that greasy cheese ain't doin' my body any favors. He does grill chicken breasts a lot, though, which I like.
Last night we hurried home from the gym so we could be near a TV when Saddam Hussein's deadline was up. Sure enough, about halfway through dinner came the opening salvos, the garbled phone calls from CNN reporters, saying that bombs were starting to fall over Baghdad. Sitting silently over my pork chop, I started to get that feeling in my stomach. The feeling that I got on September 11, as I heard over my car radio of the bloodshed in New York. It starts in your stomach like a rock, and then radiates outward, causing your back, arms and legs to shiver with dread.
I know that it's pretty likely we'll win this war, and I know it's not going to be a Vietnam-style fiasco. But my heart is breaking nonetheless. Partly because I was totally against this war from the get-go, and partly because I'm thinking of all those people that you never hear about on CNN. The military wife who's told that her husband won't be coming back from the Middle East. The Iraqi family that was minding their own business when they were decimated in a "targeted attack" by the U.S. The 18-year-old American soldier who loses his legs in a skirmish. These are the people who are affected most profoundly by this war. Not George Bush, not Saddam Hussein...this war will be a distant memory to them 10 years from now. No, it's these people, the ones who become involved in the conflict whether they like it or not. The ones who are asked to risk their lives for this war - a war, that, in my opinion, is being fought for weak reasons at best.
But, point being, I was reminded of Sept. 11 as we sat there, remote in hand, frozen to the TV. I was living alone back then. On that day, I got up around 8 a.m., as usual, and started preparing for work. I turned on one of my HBO channels - I had a really nice digital TV package at the time - and half-watched a movie or something as I got dressed, ate breakfast and fed the cats. I didn't know that anything had happened until I got in my car for the short 5-minute hop to work. There was no music to speak of - only frantic broadcasters reporting the slaughter, the destruction, the grief. As soon as I got to the newsroom, I was sent out to local schools to ask them about their safety precautions. The rest of the day went by like a blur. I called my mom and Mark for no real reason, just to tell them I loved them. I honestly thought that it wouldn't be long until more bombs started dropping and a big mushroom cloud wiped us all away into nuclear oblivion.
When I got home that night, I didn't eat dinner right away like I normally do. I sat in my living room, totally dark except for the bluish glow of the TV, and watched CNN for hours. My emotions were paralyzed. I felt neither grief at the tragedy nor happiness that no one I loved had been involved. Until one small, fairly insignificant news report that I'm sure no one else remembers. A CNN reporter was standing on a streetcorner in downtown New York. Anywhere from 20 to 50 people were lined up behind her. Almost everyone was carrying flyers bearing photographs of WTC workers and pleas to call if you had any information, if you had seen them anywhere. When the reporter finished speaking she turned the mike over to the crowd. One by one, they turned their tearful faces to the camera and begged for help in locating their brother, their mother, their cousin. That's when the tears started to flow for me, because their voices seemed so hopeful, but behind their eyes you could see that they knew it was hopeless. I remember that the reporter started to cry too.
For the next couple of days, my TV didn't stray from CNN. Finally, for my own mental health, I wrenched myself away from the news and tried to watch normal things. My routine went back to normal, but my life would never be the same.
Having washed my hair the night before, I bounded out of bed at 6:15 a.m. on the dot and began getting stuff together to take to the church. Our first appointment was at 7:45 a.m. with Kelly, a stylist across town that had been recommended to me. She would be doing my hair as well as Stephanie's and Katherine's. Katherine and I stumbled to the salon with bleary eyes and arrived about 5 minutes late. Seeing that the hairdresser was not there (NO ONE was there), I feared that she had come in and left already. Calls to her home and cell phone went unanswered. Finally, she showed up at 8:05 a.m., with no explanation as to why she was late. I felt like speaking up but we were running late already and I figured that arguing would take up valuable time. She put Kat in rollers and then began working on my hair, which I requested that she do in a Grace Kelly-like hairdo that I had seen on Sarah Jessica Parker. Around 8:45 Stephanie showed up. We hung around the salon, all done up in rollers and bobby pins, while I frantically watched the clock. It was inching toward 10 a.m., the time we were supposed to be at the mall for makeup, and most of us were still a long way from being done.
Around 10:05 a.m. we were finally finished - my strands shellacked into place with heavy-duty spray and my sisters with so many bobby pins in their heads that they could have set off a metal detector. I paid the hairdresser (accidentally giving her a $50 tip, but that's another story) and we dashed off to NorthStar Mall, about 5 minutes away. By this time it was about 10:15 - the girls were 15 minutes late for their appointments at Dillard's Estee Lauder counter, me late for my appointment at Saks' Lancome counter. I dropped them off at the curb and then rushed around looking for a space in the parking garage. I dashed into Saks and was informed by my makeup artist from Friday that she had strep and she couldn't do my makeup for fear of infecting me. She called over another woman, Janet, to step in. Janet did do a lovely job, but she also took forever, and time wasn't something that I had an abundance of. Pictures were supposed to start at noon and by the time she finished it was 11:30. The church was WAY across town. I ran to Dillard's and picked up my sisters. Fancy hair and all, we literally ran through the mall (getting cat calls and shouts of, "Is that for the prom?") and began our trek across town to the mission. Wouldn't ya know it, traffic was heavy. Before long Mark, my mom, and everyone else began calling on their cell phones, apparently assuming that we had decided not to come.
Finally we made it to the church and dashed into the bridal room. Bear in mind that although we had our hair and makeup done, none of the three of us were wearing the proper attire. I quickly jumped into my dress (thank God there were no petticoats or anything like that), veil and shoes - it all took about 3 minutes. By this time I was almost in tears because it was time for the pictures to start and there was a huge knot in my strand of pearls. Also, my bouquet only had 12 flowers, when I had paid for 18. I truly understood the meaning of the phrase "going bridal." With the help of my mom and the very nice photographer, we got everything fixed up and went to the courtyard for pics. That helped me calm down a little. I needed to pee the entire time but I figured I could go after the photos and that they would hold back a little on starting the ceremony while I visited the restroom.
I was wrong.
After a brief consult with the priest, I started toward the ladies' room when I heard the strains of the prelude music wafting through the church. Shit. But music or no music, I had to go, and come hell or high water, I was going to. Only problem was, to get to the ladies' room I had to pass by the back of the church. All of my guests would be able to see me. No matter. I ran through the courtyard like a madwoman, looking very much like this, but without the horse. I must have been quite the spectacle to tourists (the mission is a national park and tons of people visit every day). I peed faster than I've ever peed before and managed to quietly slip in the back of the church just in time to see my sisters walk down the aisle. And then the tears welled up again.
I'd been telling myself all weekend not to cry, don't cry, you don't want to be a blubbering baby at your own wedding. And I thought I would be successful, but about halfway down that short aisle, I could feel the tears rising, a knot in my throat. This was IT. This was the real thing. I hadn't lived in my parents' house for many years, but this kind of made it official. I couldn't go home again. I'd never sit on my dad's lap again and do coloring books, like we used to do. He wouldn't be taking me fishing on the weekends. I guess I always thought in the back of my head that I'd be able to do that, if I really wanted to. But no. If I wanted to color with someone, it would be Mark. I know it sounds stupid, but it always comforted me, and now everything would be changing.
I won't bore you with details of the short ceremony, except that the priest had us recite the wrong set of vows. (It included a line about children, which I didn't necessarily want in there...too much pressure.) My friend Deann did Ave Maria beautifully, and I got through it without tripping or anything. Afterwards we did our reception at La Fogata, a really nice Mexican restaurant, and everyone seemed to have a good time. I was never so relieved as during the moment when we left the restaurant and headed back to our hotel. Whew. It was finally over.
I WILL post pictures, I swear...just gotta get them into electronic form first. Our photog only works with film.
We interrupt this retelling of Jen's wedding for a brief movie review...of The Ring. Let me tell you, that movie scared the bejeezus out of me. And I'm not normally one to go hiding during a scary movie. Basically, it's about this eerie videotape, and whoever watches it dies in exactly seven days. Yeah, I know, it sounds stupid, death by VHS. But it really was scary, mostly because it puts a creepy spin on everyday stuff. I never knew a wooden chair, a ladder and a tree could be so frightening. The acting - well, it was pretty good, but the star's performance (Naomi Watts) leaves something to be desired. I don't know, I just wasn't feeling it from her. But the kid who played her son was super creepy. After I got home I was scared to turn the lights off. Mark had to remind me that it was just a movie and I should stop being a baby. But anyway...if you like being scared, this is definitely for you.
Anyone who's ever said that they were really busy on a particular day obviously didn't know about the day before my wedding. I did so much crap that day that my legs should have run themselves right out of my hip sockets. I woke up around 7 a.m. that day and packed for San Antonio, throwing casual clothes, dressy clothes and everything else into my suitcase. Then I had to load up the bridesmaids' dresses, my dress, my veil, my shoes, my pew decorations and anything else I might need. I swear, the Biosphere scientists packed lighter than me. After much contemplation I decided that there wasn't enough room for the centerpieces and left them in Mark's care (he was coming down later with Steve, his best man).
Then it was on to San Antonio - but not without my sister Katherine and my father, who were going to accompany me and check into their respective hotels. Our first stop was the tuxedo shop, where my dad tried on his getup and then loaded it into my packed-to-the-gills trunk. Then we went to Northstar Mall across town, where a nice lady at Saks Fifth Avenue's Lancome counter practiced doing my makeup. After the makeover I bought $52 worth of product and agreed to meet her back there the next day.
From there we ran uptown to the photographer's house/office, and I had a quick 10-minute chat with her about which family members were going to be there and what exactly I wanted photographed. After that we headed towards downtown so I could unload some stuff at my bed & breakfast - and that's where the trouble started. We got terribly, hopelessly lost, and probably would have given up and checked into Motel 6 had it not been for the nice B&B clerk, who mercifully gave us directions (we turned out to be about 3 minutes away from it). By then it was nearly time for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner on the south side of town. We changed into our clothes faster than a paid hooker and dashed down to the rehearsal, which started at 5. My mother was not there. She had stayed in Austin visiting with my grandfather until 3:30 p.m. The musicians were not there either - Mark had told them to be there around 5:20. Which would have been fine, but all of a sudden this drunk priest comes up and says that we HAVE to be out by 6 p.m. so another wedding party can rehearse. Shit. Hearing this, I promptly laid my head down on the front pew and didn't get back up until everyone showed up, around 5:30. We rehearsed a few times with the music..and as soon as I began to walk down the aisle with my dad I got teary. I know, it's really stupid, but this was like a BIG affirmation that I wasn't my father's girl anymore.
Anyway, tears aside, we exited the church by 6 and I rushed with my mom back to my hotel, so she could see it and so I could get the book of readings for Mark's mom (who was supposed to do a reading during the ceremony). Then we dashed uptown to Old San Francisco Steakhouse for the after-rehearsal dinner. I was doing fine until after the entrees - and then I crashed. Absolutely, positively screeched to a halt. I was so tired, I could have crawled underneath the table and gone to sleep for the night. It got so bad that my mom asked Mark to drive me to my hotel and Steve to follow in my car. So I rode with Mark and Katherine rode with Steve (she was staying with me; Mark was going back to Austin for the night). I was nervous about the next day, but I hit the bed like a rock and was asleep before I knew it. My last night as a single woman and I was dead to the world at 11 p.m.
Name: Jen Location: DFW, TX Occupation: Journalist WHY this stupid blog?: To lose the 20 pounds I've packed on since high school and to entertain you with stories about my fabulous life. Current Weight: 138 My Goal Weight: 115 Pounds to Go: 23
