Weary of Financial Advice

It seems that everywhere you turn, advice on dealing with personal finances flows. From news stories on television and talk radio to ads in the media, everyone is advising how to save money in “these tough economic times.”

I grow weary of it all. However, I realize that most folks have little financial discipline. They carry huge debt, don’t save, and live paycheck to paycheck.

I think what set me off on this rant was an interview that I watched on TV news recently while preparing dinner. The interviewer was speaking with a young married couple who have a small child. They live in a typical middle-class neighborhood. Both parents work. The child’s grandmother provides daycare.

Okay, all well-and-good. Then the woman chimes in, “oh, I save a lot of money now by changing what we do for dinner. Instead of going out to eat as often, I stop by (insert name of fast-food chain here) and bring dinner home!” Like she discovered penicillin, the extols the “virtues” of bringing take-out home to eat. Does anyone besides me see what’s wrong with this picture?

The interviewer compounded the aggravation of the silly story by complimenting her on her choice to “eat at home more often.” And then the yuppie Dad says, “and I can even have leftovers to snack on later.” Oh, puhleeze….

I heard a report on the radio that people are changing their habits about lunch. Yep, instead of going to a restaurant every day, some buy … you get it … fast food and bring it back to the office.

Throughout mainstream media, reporters tend to miss the mark entirely. All of the “advice” that I hear is not helpful, and actually promotes some really bad and expensive things to do.

For my partner and me, our views are different. Perhaps it is because we both are children of parents who lived through the Great Depression. We are frugal, but not cheap. For example, we always eat a home-cooked meal every evening. We do something that seems to be unusual (at least as far as main stream media observes): we go to the grocery store once a week and stock up on foods that we use to prepare a well-balanced meal for dinner AND for lunch AND for breakfast that we pack to take to work each day.

We believe in having breakfast, though with our schedules, we bring breakfast to work and eat it upon arrival. And for three meals a day, seven days a week, we are spending about US$100 per week on a full range of fresh vegetables, meats, poultry, fish, and other goods. That’s about an average of US$2.38 for each well-balanced meal for two adults.

I should say, though, that my partner’s “avocation” or interest in grocery stores helps here. He cuts coupons, and when we prepare our shopping list, he reviews the store’s weekly ad for what’s on sale and matches sales with coupons. By using the store’s loyalty card (which gets you the “sale” prices) and coupons, we save an average of US$50 every single week on our groceries. Seriously — that much. The investment of time in reviewing the ad, making a list, matching coupons is definitely worth it.

And don’t get me started when all the yuppies start yapping about not going to Starsucks “every” day — that they’ve “cut back” to fewer visits each week. I bring a can of Coke Zero to work with me in the morning for my morning Caffeine shot, and drink water throughout the day otherwise.

Another thing has bothered me is all the advice on saving on utilities. Suddenly yuppies have “gone green” and are discovering CFLs (compact fluorescent lights). Heck, we’ve used them for over a decade. And if I hear advice to install a programmable thermostat one more time, I’ll scream. We have four such devices for the four separate heating/cooling zones and have had the thermostats and zones since the house was built. We heat or cool only the rooms that we occupy at different times of the day. Our utility bills for heating and cooling are 1/3 what our neighbors are paying.

Don’t even mention about paying down credit card debt. We never carry a balance, thus, we never incur finance charges. My partner and I both think the same way: only charge what you can pay for when the bill comes due. We use credit cards, but only for major ticket items or for internet purchases — but not for small charges. We still pay cash for most in-person transactions, including groceries. It’s a well-researched fact that when you spend cash, you’re less likely to spend as much. With plastic, you never really “see” the money.

Well, now you know my “secret.” I have never adopted — in fact I have strongly rejected — the yuppie outlook on personal finances. Or in other words, my partner and I still hold true to the values our parents taught us. We save for a rainy day, we don’t carry debt, and we buy only what we can afford and pay for.

So thanks anyway, Suze or whoever… we’re doin’ just fine. Go help those yuppie-wanna-be’s out there who have their financial house in disarray and priorities out of order.

Boot Goal Realized

After receiving two pairs of patrol boots that I had always wanted last week, and then finding a place to store them when not on my feet, I saw that my storage areas were almost filled. I also realized that my goals for motorcycle boots were completed.

That’s it… as far as I can foresee, the motorcycle boot acquisitions are done.

I have one more space to fill, with a pair of Olathe Buckaroo Boots that I saw at Kleinschmidt’s last year… and whenever that happens, I’m done. Seriously.

My partner is taking bets, though, and the current odds are 10:1 that my 2009 “boot acquisition prediction” will not hold. Care to get in on the bet?

Banish Ties!

My partner said this morning as we were getting ready to go to work, “you look nice!” as he looked at me in a shirt and tie, dress slacks, and boots, of course. (I don’t own any shoes, nor will I.)

I should be happy with receiving a compliment. He is always so supportive in so many ways.

But I just h-a-t-e neckties. I really do. I always have. I don’t like how they look. I can’t stand how they feel. Even with a properly-fitted shirt, wearing a tie still makes me feel like I’m being bound. And I am definitely not into bondage whatsoever.

My statement about feeling “bound” is a metaphor. Perhaps my feelings of revulsion toward neckties has more to do with how I rebel against conformity. I have strongly resisted being forced through society’s pressures to conform to a certain style of dress, manners of behavior, ways of being. I see a necktie more than anything else as a symbol of conforming to society’s old-fashioned pressures.

Alas, I love my job. Part of keeping that job is having to go along with what the boss wants, and what the employer expects. After all, I was recently promoted to a fairly high level position. That promotion was based mostly on what I know and what I can do, but I know they wouldn’t have put me in that position if I did not conform to their expectations of dress when we meet with people from outside the organization, or our organization’s members.

Thank goodness they don’t extend those expectations to footwear. Seriously, if somehow they insisted that I had to wear dress shoes, I probably would quit. But my boots are shined, look fine with pants over, and not a one of my co-workers or bosses have said anything about what’s on my feet.

Yesterday when I facilitated a meeting with law enforcement leaders, I had to wear a shirt & tie. Fortunately, I could do the symbolic thing of wearing a jacket in the first moments of the meeting, then taking it off and placing it on the back of a chair. Most other men did the same, except for a few. There are always a few — like my twin brother — who wear a jacket and tie and say they like it. Poor fellas….

As the meeting went on and I was becoming very “engaging” (or some say “hyperactive”) to maintain attention, the tie was loosened and the top button was undone. Again, this is acceptable during a meeting… to loosen up as it progresses, particularly if you’re running around as I do when I facilitate a meeting. (Some call me the equivalent of a game show host as active as I am during a meeting.)

Today, I have a meeting at a federal agency, so once again, I had to put on a tie and have a jacket with me. I put the tie on at home, and wore it to work. But as I was catching up on my morning email, I just felt more and more confined, restrained, and restricted. My usual free-flow morning creativity was just gone. I had to finish writing a proposal, but my thoughts weren’t gelling. This was serious!

So I reached up and yanked the tie off, and unbuttoned my collar. I stepped out to get some water and take a short walk around the office. When I returned ten minutes later, I was in a completely different state of mind. The rest of that proposal just flowed from my brain to the fingers on my keyboard. I think it’s a winner — and all because I took that damn tie off.

I know, some of the readers of this blog (hey, Maf) think suits & boots are an enjoyable appearance. I’ve heard that from others. That’s fine, I am glad you enjoy it. I just don’t. I never have. Yuck. Just ask my twin brother: I got the “jeans” genes, and he got the “suit” genes.

I know it’s all in my head. But that’s just how I am. Men’s neckties should be banished from the world. We all would be more comfortable, too.

Posted in Job

What the Sheriff Said

I facilitated a meeting today at my office in which several county sheriffs, police chiefs, and their respective staffs participated. It was a worthwhile and interesting meeting.

In honor of the law enforcement officials coming to the meeting, I wore my new All American Patrol Boots that I received last week to the office. The boots were great for a number of reasons. They have lug soles for traction on the icy sidewalks outside; they look great, and almost “shoe-like”; and they are very comfortable so as I am walking around facilitating the meeting, standing for hours, my feet don’t hurt.

Several of the attendees arrived early. I talked with them as they got their coffee and settled into a seat. I noticed one county sheriff wearing a uniform with Dehner bal-laced patrol boots. Before I could say anything, he came up to me and said, “Are those Dehners?” I said, “no, these are made by All American.”

“Never heard of ’em, tell me more.” We had a nice, long conversation about tall patrol boots. Several of the other sheriffs and chiefs joined in the conversation. I had to control myself when he asked, “how tall, lift your pants?” … which I did. Then “cool! Those are nice! Where can I get them? How much did they cost? Are they comfortable? Do you wear them when you ride [your motorcycle]?”

Wow… who woulda thunk. And this is my job! (Actually, in providing full disclosure, I am not a sworn peace officer. I work with law enforcement officials among other local leaders for various activities that I do at my place of employment.) What a nice way to begin a meeting!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

My Dad would have been 98 years old today. Happy birthday, Dad! I know you’re up there thinking about me… and your family.

I didn’t have much time with him — not as much as my older siblings, anyway. Not because he didn’t spend time with all of us, but because he died when I was 12 years old.

My Dad was a diplomat, both at his profession and at home. He was quiet, but we knew what he liked, and didn’t. He liked his kids to get along… so my sister had to stop pulling my hair in the car as we drove cross-country. (Yeah, right… one reason why I drove with Mom more often.)

Dad liked order, but wasn’t rigid. For example, when it was time for dinner, all of us had to be seated, napkin in our lap, and wait until he served himself before we could serve ourselves, pass the bowl, make sure everyone had everything, then begin to eat. But the conversation around the table was loud, raucous, and we often talked over one another. Dad loved it when everyone asked questions, talked about the news of the day, added on to the other’s thoughts, and shared. I often remember watching him sit back from his chair at the table and just watch all of us be a family. I could tell he was very proud.

My Dad loved to get a small boat out onto the reservoir and pretend to fish. He had all the equipment, but it was evident to us if we got to go with him that he just wanted to sit and enjoy the serenity. “Don’t scare away the fish!” was a common expression to get us kids to shut up. I learned from that … what serenity was … and to be patient while being peaceful. That’s a hard lesson for a kid to learn!

I recall two incidents that mortified me, but later became the stories that the family brings up as adults at the most inopportune times. One was the time that Dad took a sister and me with an aunt visiting from Oklahoma to the reservoir, just to walk around on a nice Spring morning. He showed her the boat, and I hopped onto it. He asked me to get out, which I did. But then the boat began to float away, so I reached to grab the rope — and you guessed it — I overreached and fell into the water. Everyone was highly amused except me (at the time).

Another time was when Dad had docked the boat and asked me to lock it up. I did that diligently. Then he asked me to hand him the keys. I got cute and tossed the keys at him — and the keys went into the water. I never could throw anything. The car keys were on that ring. Oh gosh… what a mess. Dad tried fishing with a stick to find them, but no luck. It was getting dark, and we couldn’t see. He walked about a mile to use a phone to call his brother to bring us the spare keys. Man, I was in the doghouse for a week.

Being in the “doghouse” meant, to us, having to live with knowing that we had disappointed our father. It was a horrible feeling, because we knew how much he loved us, and how much he cared. He would never yell, scream, curse, or lay a hand on us, even if we messed up. He would just give us “that look”… and we knew. He taught us what “expectations” were, what “standards” were, and how to try to achieve having a good life every day by demonstrating how he lived to the standards he set for us.

Dad would read with us. He would speak in other languages with us, and encourage us to learn about the world. His world was huge. He even helped us have the most creative “show-and-tell” experiences while we were in school, with real people!

One more story about Dad, in closing. He so loved my Mom. I could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, and in the many things he did for her every day. One night, after he thought we all were in bed, I heard some waltz music. I looked out over the banister, and saw Dad dancing with Mom, then gave her a big kiss when the song ended. Just the the two of them. Their love was complete, solid, and strong.

Well, Happy Birthday, Dad! I miss you, am thinking of you, and love you very much. I try today to live as a man that you wanted me to be. I always cherish your memories, your devotion to family, your solid work ethic, and most of all, your love.

Remember, life is short: if you are fortunate enough to still have your Dad around, let him know you care. Pay a visit, give a call. Show those you love that you love ’em.

Nesting

“Nesting” is a term that has been used more often since September 11, 2001, and the decline in domestic and international air travel that followed. While air travel is up significantly since then, what also is “up” are three things that no one likes: higher ticket prices; hassles, in general, getting through airport security; and the niddling fees tacked on to air tickets (the “homeland security fee” is another name for a federal tax), as well as nuisance fees tacked on by the airlines at the airport: from baggage fees to pillows to aisle or emergency exit seats.

I’m not that old… just past the half-century mark… but in a “previous life,” and in a previous job, I traveled a lot. I mean A LOT — some years, over 100,000 actual air miles every year. While most of my travel was domestic (within the U.S.), there were times when business would send me to Central and South America, Europe, Asia, or Australia. Tinian, Rota, Saipan, Guam, Samoa, Vanuatu… off the beaten-track locations as well. Overall, I’ve tallied 56 countries on my “been there” list, and cherish (almost) every visit, everywhere.

I would save up airline miles for my partner and me to take some really wonderful trips. Our wanderlust brought us to Canada, Europe, Australia, New Zealand, South America, and various interesting places right here in our own country.

But that was back in the day when…

  • Airline miles actually were useful
  • You could “upgrade” affordably to business class when going far, such as to our favourite locale Down Under
  • Checking bags and getting through security didn’t take forever
  • My partner could travel — due to his disability, now he can’t

While I did take a trip to Arizona recently — using airline miles — that was the first trip “for fun” that I have taken on an airline in four years. Who knows, it might be another four years hence that I take a “fun trip” that requires air travel.

Meanwhile, we enjoy “nesting.” We have built a marvelous retreat at home. Our back yard was transformed into a park, where we can rest on our double hammock, watch the squirrels play high in the trees, and listen to the babbling brook while the wind blows softly through the leaves.

At night and in winter, we retreat to our basement, which we finished together as a joint project. While I have done a lot of home renovations in my lifetime, there’s nothing that quite describes the feeling you have when you are doing work for the home in which you live, and know that the results are something you will enjoy for a lifetime. Our basement hideaway with its many built-in amenities is quiet, comfortable, and entertaining.

For many reasons, nesting has become our “travel choice.” And it ain’t that bad, after all. Less stress, you get there immediately (LOL!), and it saves a lot of money. And when I develop that urge to get out, I hop on my Harley and ride. That brings me joy to see my home, my neighborhood, my community, my county, my state, and my country from a perspective few see. I can live with that.

Life is short: enjoy your life and your surroundings. I sure do.

March "Storm of the Century"

This is a photo taken from my office window in Washington, DC. That’s Massachusetts Avenue out front, and you can barely make out North Capitol Street with which it intersects. You can usually see the dome of the U.S. Capitol building behind that ugly old hotel in the foreground, but today, because it’s SNOWING with the wind blowing it sideways, you can’t see that far.

OMG, from the hype of the television weather weenies, you think the world will end. “The March Storm of the Century!” they’re all hyperventilating. Well, if all the snow accumulates from what’s predicted today to all of 3 to 6″ (7.5 – 15cm), we will have more snow is some areas of the DC Metroplex than we had in our last “large” March snowfall in 1999. So, technically they’re right — so far, it IS the “March Storm of the Century.”

Schools are closed, frantics are frantic, and you can’t find a roll of toilet tissue or a liter of milk at a grocery store within 50 miles. So far, I am the ooooonly one in the office (as of 7:30 — usually a half-dozen folks are here by now). The U.S. Government is open, but allowing unscheduled leave and not charging leave to people who are up to two hours late. That’s probably why I’m here alone so far. My office “follows the lead” of the Government. My co-workers are probably taking advantage of extra snooze time.

Not for me — and not for my partner! We were up, as usual, at 4am. I dressed in layers and donned my Chippewa “snowfighter” boots. I prepared lunches for my partner and myself, made a quick yet hearty breakfast for the two of us, then shoveled a whole inch (2.5cm) of snow from the driveway by 5:30am. Then my partner and I “truckpooled” to the Metro. It really wasn’t bad at all, but then again, no one other than a snowplow was on the road when we were. Metro had no problem, though it traveled a bit more slowly. That’s fine — I don’t mind slow and steady.

Alas, the Cone of Dumbness strikes again.

Leather Weekend

On Thursday, I received a new pair of All American Blue Knight Patrol Boots, (photo left) followed by a delivery on Friday with a pair of traditional Wesco Motor Patrol Boots. (photo right).

The LAPD uniform and leathers came on, which I wore all weekend — including as I went about my daily activities, visiting family, doing grocery shopping for some elder buds, and even attending a meeting related to a local political campaign. One nice-looking guy at the grocery store complimented the outfit, as I stood in line to pay. He is a fellow biker, so we might go riding together when the weather breaks. One of the store clerks who I know rather well complimented me on the leathers, and said, “new boots? They’re nice!” But that was all the boot talk I heard, not that I expected anything else.

Unfortunately, the grocery store was packed because the weather predictions are for accumulating snow — so everyone and his sister was raking the store shelves bare. Good thing was that I got through rather quickly.

My partner and I are having a spirited discussion about boots — with laces (The AA boots have a bal-laced instep) and without. He says both look good on me, but from his “excitement” on Friday, I think he likes the AA boots better.

Being a true “Bootman,” I wear boots for their functionality, as well as design and appearance. I really like both of these new pairs of boots. As soon as the weather breaks, they each will get tested while riding in my leather breeches on my Harley.

I had a good weekend. Got lots of stuff done. I updated my website quite a bit, computed six more tax returns for senior friends, and did some work with my partner on our small business. We even had time to do some batch cooking of some pasta dishes and home-made sauce for the week ahead.

I enjoy hangin’ out in leather — just wish I could transport myself to my various destinations on my Harley. Soon enough, though… soon enough.

Life is short: wear your boots!

What Turned On a Non-Bootman

These are “Blue Knight” series Patrol Boots made by All American Boot Mfg. of Sun Valley, California. I have been waiting for these boots for five friggin’ months! I can’t explain why they took so long, but I am sure glad they’re here.

These are GREAT BOOTS! They are all-leather, including being fully leather-lined. The leather is thicker than the leather used for Dehner Patrol Boots, so they feel stiffer than Dehners do. I really like these boots.

My partner who isn’t really into boots said that he thought these were the best-looking boots he has seen in a long time. After I laced them, I put on a uniform, then pulled on the boots. Wow! The whole “package” came together very well.

My partner referred to me as “officer, sir!” … then not too long after, … (this is a G-rated blog, but let’s say we had a LOT of fun!)

Great boots! Hell to get, but certainly very comfortable, good-looking, and enjoyable. I can’t wait to go for a ride on my Harley with these boots on my feet. I’ll have to wait a while for that, unfortunately, as the weather and my life aren’t “cooperating.”

See more pictures of these boots on my website by clicking here.

Life is short: wear your boots!

Peeper Teasers

Over the last few days as we have awakened, we are hearing a lovely song biding Springtime’s coming: the frequent and gentle peeping of the Spring Peeper.

We must have gazillions of these little guys in the stream that runs across the back of our property in our forest.

Saturday mornings are times when my partner and I like to open the window in our bedroom a little bit, and listen to the chorus. We snuggle close in each other’s arms, smile, and think joyful thoughts. They’re saying to us, “Spring is coming! Spring is coming! Peep Peep! Look at me! I am here to welcome Spring!”

Their song brings us joy and hope for winter to pass, Spring rains to come, our trees and plants to leaf and flower.

This biker can’t wait. Thanks, little guys, for the Spring tease.