Book Review: Small Change

Through work, I had an opportunity to attend a library conference this week and managed to score many advanced reader copies of to-be-published books. This was a popular (and frugal!) way to bring home "guilt travel" gifts for the kids (and Mr. Poorhouse) without spending a dime.

One of the books I picked up was Small Change by Sheila Roberts. The author herself was at the St. Martin's booth signing copies. (Did I ever mention I have a little collection of signed books? It started back in the days when I had money and bought books instead of borrowing them from the library).

Anywho, Small Changes is really a self-help book thinly disguised as a novel. It follows three friends in financial straights: our heroine Rachel is reeling financially and emotionally from a divorce and is caught in the trap of trying to buy her children's affection; her friend, one-time rocker Jess has never had a job, and both her husband and son are facing unemployment; and pitiful Tiffany drowns her infertility sorrows by running up credit card bills on things she doesn't need and can't afford.

The women band together in a support group, getting wise about money and finding ways to increase their incomes and decrease their expenses. Of course, they live happily ever after and go on to build their emergency savings accounts in case a rainy day should strike again. The story is almost a morality play for financial control.

And it contains good tips, particularly for women who do not have to work full time. For them, the recipes for cordial and home-made jams to give as gifts instead of over spending on unwanted mall tschakas may make sense. Each of these women learn to transform their personal strengths into a way to make or save money.

For those who can't stomach a self-help book, this novel makes the advice easy to swallow.

All Hail to the Boys and Girls Club

Photo: jen_maiser via Flickr

The search for affordable kids' activities continues. Despite our longterm best efforts (we started when they were just babies) Prissy and Paul don't swim. As we say at our house, this is a safety issue, and therefore non-negotiable. But what to do? All the pools in our town are private, have a waitlist, and require a several-thousand dollar initiation fee, sponsorship by an existing member, and expensive annual fees. There is no public pool.

A friend of mind mentioned that the local Boys & Girls Club give swim lessons free. Free. I wasn't sure I believed it. Our kids belong to a different B&G Club, which is a bargain for other reasons (reasonable summer camp fees), but charges for swim lessons.

My friend turned out to be right. For the price of an afternoon off from working waiting in line for 2 hours (there is no online registration), I got my kids into lessons.

Of course, that just began the battle, as Paul wanted nothing to do with swimming. So I did what any harried working mom would do. I bribed him. The reward? A trip to Dunkin' Donuts after every swim lesson. Nevermind the irony of following a healthy activity with a supremely unhealthy one. Guess what? After the first lesson, he LOVED swimming, and even, on occasion, declines the bribe trip.

But it gets better. It turns out that this particular club ALSO has free dance lessons. So Prissy, who had to stop her ballet/jazz/tap lessons when the unemployment fairy first visited our house three years ago, is now happily dancing jazz one evening a week. For (yes) free. And instead of $50 or more for costumes, we paid $5 for a tie dyed T-Shirt. Instead of shelling out $45 for family recital tickets, we sat on risers in the common room at the club for nothing. And I have to say, she had just as much fun, and I think learned just as much as when she was in the pricey dance studio.

Yay.

The digout continues

Photo: krossbow via Flikr

I'm not just talking about the 20 inches of snow that that got dumped on us today. No, I mean the excruciatingly slow process of digging out of debt.

There are hopeful signs. I suspect that as soon as I file my 2010 federal taxes my back taxes due the IRS will be behind us. Our car payments will end in May. Through frugal alternatives and generous gifts from friends, my kids are starting to have a life again.

My daughter goes in for her first orthodontist appointment tomorrow. We're saving thousands of dollars by going to a university dental school instead of a private doctor.

I'm a month away from retiring my last 29% interest balance on a credit card (thanks for nothing, CitiBank).

I finally got the courage to look at our credit scores. We're actually in the A or B category in almost everything, but we get an "F" in debt utilization. But at least we know the worst.

I've increased my 401K contribution to 12%. (I'll be 50 this year, so retirement looms).

I got the washing machine fixed, and even had the piano tuned for the first time in over a year.

Many of our kids' presents this year were hand made, refurbished or otherwise bargains. We even managed to send Christmas presents to our distant family this year.

Mr. Poorhouse and I are both in stable jobs. And Mr. Poorhouse has begun to take absolute delight in clipping coupons.

I've become a fan of The Fly Lady, who is gradually helping me to develop sorely needed neatness habits. I'm thinking she will also save me money in the long run but helping me to plan meals and find stuff that I would otherwise buy replacements for.

And yet...

We're so weary. It's going to be at least another 3 years until we're completely debt free. Unless of course we end up having to replace the 10 year old minivan in the driveway before then. 

I haven't managed to lose weight or increase my exercise. In fact, my weight is taking its toll on my knees, and I'm starting to worry about that. I don't have the money to join a club that has a pool where gravity might cease to be my enemy. I'm in a Catch-22. Can't exercise because of the pain--Pain because I weigh too much. 

So, everything is the same, but not so dire. Stamina's what we need now. 

Am I my mother?

Image by Andrea Hughes via Flickr

Sometimes when I catch myself in the mirror, I feel like I'm looking at my mom.

She's been gone nine years now. We had a long distance relationship for all of my adult life. I had a six month old baby whom she had yet to meet when she died unexpectedly.

We had turned that odd parent/child corner where I worried more about her than she did about me. She was a breast cancer survivor. The treatment had left her with diabetes. She still drank. We don't know why she died. Could have been the alcohol, could have been allergies to mold in her condo.

Mom was the most successful practioner of denial I ever met. She lived beyond her means. She never had a real job, though she dabbled in a few pyramid schemes. Her career was as an army wife. She was good at it, too. When it ended in divorce afer 30 years she couldn't or wouldn't submit to the structure of a regular job. She was an artist, and a free spirit. She couldn't pay her taxes on time, so she didn't. She figured something would happen to make it all right. And as often as not, something or someone would rescue her.

So how did straight-A, rule-following, structured me turn into somebody with a $20K overdue tax bill?

The apple falls not far from the tree?

Except I know that I'm the only one piloting the rescue chopper in my life.

Miss you mom. Wish you could see how much your grandchildren are like you. Prissy wants to be an artist. Paul is learning to play the guitar. They both love to sing as you did.

Hope you are happy. I'm working on it.

Would that we could take the best parts of our parents and leave the rest.

Middle school clubs are such a deal

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I don't know why it is that middle schoolers, at least the kids at Prissy's school, have such a great choice of afterschool clubs that cost, well, nothing. All the activities for younger kids--drama, soccer, music--are really expensiver around here.

But Prissy participates in the engineering club, the knitting club, the photography club, and the drama club every day for an hour or so after school, at no charge to us.

And, on days when there are no clubs scheduled, she can safely hang out at the youth center, conveniently located in  her school building. The cost of that is just $40 a year.

Maybe this is a slight compensation for the fact that childcare for kids over 13 is not tax deductible.

I know the school gets a private grant to pay advisors for the clubs.

As an example of what a great deal we are getting, Prissy was in a play last night. The last play she was in cost $150 to participate, plus "optional expenses" like the gala tickets, performance tickets, basic costume wardrobe, the DVD of the performance, etc. etc. etc. While we got a grant for half the participation cost, the extras add up big time.

But last night's place cost nothing. No participation fee. No white tights and black shoes to purchase.  No tickets to buy. No DVD. No raffle to contribute to. Nothing. Nada.

Such a deal.

And, there were only 12 people in the play, they all had speaking roles, and they all got way more experience than they would have in a larger production.

I haven't got anything against larger productions. But the drama club is such a deal.

Another extravagance

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

I think I'll rename this blog "Polly Whinges."

The seal on my environmentally-friendly front loading Bosch washing machine has disintegrated. 

Where do you suppose the money for the expensive repair is going to come from?

Just call me Job.

Confession--the crazy leftover lady

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OK, this isn't good. There was a whole plate of leftover sandwiches from a catered work event I attended today. I looked at them and calculated they could feed my family for a day or so. So I brought them home, carrying them waitress-style through the parking lot. At least I left the brownies. Nobody here needs them.

How long before I turn into the crazy lady who stuffs her purse from the buffet?

Bounce

Image by ~Prescott via Flickr

Meeting the mortgage payment is a tricky proposition chez Poorhouse.  I have an automatic payment set in my online banking system. But since the mortgage is due monthly and the paychecks are bi-weekly, and since the mortgage payment is more than my paycheck net, I often have to make adjustments. The good news is I have a 15 day grace period, and things are better so that I'm often paying the mortgage before that grace period expires.

The bad news is that my online banking system goes into "processing" mode a few days before the payment is scheduled, so if I forget to go in far enough in advance when I have a bad month (like when I have to fork out an extra $2300 for car repairs-grrr), and change the date, it's too late to make a change, and everything goes boing boing.

And my bank is not stupid.  They boing the biggest check first, so that all the other little payments will also bounce. At $39 a pop.

It never ever ends.

I think I may be something of a culinary genious

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Or so said Bridget Jones. Our slow cooker is still getting a workout, though we are getting a little tired of the pot roast/stew and root veggies combo.  Last week we had a pot roast and Mr. Poorhouse's famous mushroom gravy.

But the genius came the next day when I sauteed some shallots, added leftover thin sliced pot roast, leftover mushroom gravy, a bit of light sour cream, and voila, had a quick beef stroganoff. We served it over whole wheat noodles and with my favorite spring treat--sauteed fiddlehead ferns (in more shallots and garlic.) Hmmm.

Saving Money on Braces

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After my post whining about the cost of braces, a friend gave me a brilliant idea for saving money on braces. Dental schools offer orthodontia at a discount.  I'm not sure what the savings might be, but I suspect 10-20 percent. I'd be interested in hearing from readers about your experiences.

When I was younger I did get optical care from a local university. I've got bad eyes and weird problems, and they loved showing me off to their students. I didn't mind. In that case it wasn't a financial issue. At any rate, I always felt like I got good care.