Get out of debt

Perpetually, I used credit cards for convenience and routinely carried balances out of perverse laziness. Then, at a certain magic point, usually at the 8 or 9 hundred-dollar range, the balances would suddenly leap forward and mushroom crazily out of control into 2k, 3k, 4k and up. I always wondered how this mysterious alchemy occurred. I didn’t seem to be charging more per month.

Wellllll, it’s a little thing called interest.

The thing is, the bulk of my charges were for $50 or less. Gas, bars, restaurants, trinkets. Almost always, I had the money, but just didn’t have the cash at the point of purchase, so I charged it. Women don’t carry wads of hundreds like men – it’s not encoded into our genes. Evolutionally, women are check writers.

But let’s face it, lots of place just don’t take checks. Hello big balances, and financial serfdom.

The debit card was the solution I was waiting for. Anything that’s not a business expense, plane ticket, or something I need a paper trail for, like big appliances that credit cards will warranty, I charge. The rest goes on the debit card. I carry a pen and the debit card IN my checkbook and have trained myself to write down every debit, as if it were a check. Bookkeeping is a breeze because the money comes out within a day or two. I always know where my balances are. Now, I never pay interest on Starbucks like a damn idiot.

How-to:

1. Next time you’re at the bank, ask for a debit card application. Fill out and send

2. Get a pen that will affix to your checkbook

3. Move all convenience charges to the debit card

4. Start paying down your balances without racking up new debt

At $60 an hour, I contemplated why I seemed to feel no intellectual resistance to paying that outrageous price. I finally decided the environment was so relaxing that it had been engineered precisely for that purpose; to lull my rational brain into paying these exorbitant rates without complaint.Her house was the most soothing place I’d ever been — now, I wanted to know why.

So I did a reverse-engineer and tried to figure it all out. For $60, I could at least pick up some design tips.

The house was an average cottage on a small tree lined street, nothing to write home about. The strange feeling that caused me to fall asleep each time on her work table seemed to begin a few feet from the door. What was there?I retraced my steps.

Aha! Windchimes.She’d heavily salted the area. Not the obligatory single set of chimes, but at least three sets so they interacted and created a symphonic sound that came in through (open) windows.

Assault of smell/sound/flickering candles on entering.My senses were immediately engaged in her waiting area.Small mirrors strategically placed told me I was in the clutches of a Feng-Shui master; incense burned in a small dish; several inexpensive tall religious candles burned in brightly colored glass.The chimes mingled with a very faint CD playing some natural sounds like waves or crickets chirping. Wickedly clever.

Getting naked. Putting on a robe indicates a formal or ceremonial change of status; every time I slipped into something “more comfortable” for treatment, I was cuing myself to expect the same soothing result.The mind can be so pathetically predictable.

Natural fabrics. I lay down on a linen covered soft work slab, for lack of a better term. Gauzy fabric breathed in and exhaled out of the house with the breeze while that perennial windchime concerto played through my subconscious. While I dozed, the acupuncturist would cover me with a light cotton blanket. Bliss.

How to recreate the acupuncturist’s pleasure palazzo

CD of classical music, new age, or rain sounds
Several windchimes hung strategically

Incense (try something exotic like myrrh)

Mexican religious votives

Tiny mirrors to move chi (place in corners of room)

Kimono or robe for lounging

Gauzy fabric or cheesecloth to drape on curtain rods. Let excess puddle on floor.

Keep windows open whenever possible.

Start. Stop. Glug. Suddenly my mouse demanded the hand and eye coordination of a Swiss watchmaker. What was this resistance? I’ve given my mouse everything. Now, ingratitude?

Yes, it’s a $5 piece of plastic. But I feel a Constitution-Granted Right to get at least two years out of a mouse before buying another. Cruelly I tossed the mouse against the wall, hoping to shock it into submission, but acting like it was only an “accident” while I reached for a Cheeto. “Get your act together,” I snarled. “Start gliding, baby. Glide! Glide!”

Nothing.

My surly mouse and I continued our standoff until I was advised by a computer expert that stuff builds up inside mouses. And you have to periodically clean them.

“Do you have a cat?” he said. “I guarantee you’ll find cat hair in there.”

He was right. Cat and mouse – imagine.

How-to Deal With Your Balky Mouse

1. Turn mouse over.
2. Twist off the plastic plate on top of the trackball.
3. Pop the trackball out; don’t stress — you won’t break it.
4. Use your finger or nail to wipe off the three rollers inside (you’ll see lots of black gunk on them).
5. Replace trackball and cover.

Enjoy smoothly gliding mouse. Sigh with contentment at your satisfying wizardry and impress all your guy friends by showing them “neat” computer trick. And that was the end of my mouseke-tears.

“Oh, nothing,” I say. “Or just something teeny-tiny.” I do mean that, usually. Or maybe what I really mean is: I don’t want you to feel you HAVE to do something, and I don’t want it to be a BURDEN, but if you INSIST, I’d like something, I just don’t know what.

So what happens? You get stuff you don’t want. Or you don’t get anything.

Reality: People are going to buy you things to show they care. Human beings express themselves materially; it’s just a quirk they have.

So, you need a list. You need an answer to that question and not off the top of your head. What you really need is a registry, a thing engaged couples know is the best part of getting married.

Creating the Registry

1. Pick your favorite store & it needs to be online so people can order things for you remotely. Amazon, Macy’s, just about all major stores offer this service.
2. Set up a registered wishlist or registry account with login and password.
3. Download Amazon’s plug in for its Universal Registry, which lets you save anything from any store to one list.
4. Sit down for 30 minutes and have fun browsing. Click all the mundane stuff you need for your house or self but never bother to buy (and never remember to ask for). Include fun items that seem frivolous, but you’d secretly love. Now you are getting into the spirit.
5. Alas, your wishlist won’t sell itself so you will need to tell others about its existence. The mass mailing notification that some stores offer is a tad cold. So just drop the hint the next time you’ve got a birthday or other gift giving occasion coming up. Something along the lines of Oh it’s so silly, I finally broke down and made a list somewhere so I could remember what I want….Nudge nudge.
6. Update your list on a yearly basis.

The beautiful part is, Givers receive a very great service. They get what they really desire: a little direction and input. Getters receive the goods. What’s not to love.

The problem is, I’ve fooled around and worked a whole bunch of people into my daily rotation. Much as I adore them, staying in touch can be incredibly time-consuming and it’s multiplying exponentially. At this point I could easily lose my entire workday simply answering emails (again, also like sixth grade when I tried to lose algebra by writing notes the whole time).

I’m looking for balance. Although email is recent technology, really it is just the old Phone Call At Work in sheep’s clothing. I must think of it that way and not write the finely crafted endless email replies I long to; otherwise I shall drown in a steady sea of FWDs: and You’ll Like This and OH My God, He and What Do You Think…?

Fun as it is, a day is still as finite as ever. And you have to prioritize. Recognize email for the delightful little addictive drain it is. Life coaches often advocate checking email twice a day for important messages only and then answering it at a designated time once a day. It’s good discipline.

Email Tips

• Keep messages that require a response in your In Box and don’t clear the message until that action is complete.
• Set mail preferences to delete messages on exit (you can lose time wandering through old stuff nostalgically).
• Print what’s important and quickly move the message to delete or archive.
• Practice the art of non response; more messages than you think can be safely ignored.
• Keep it simple and short (mostly). One paragraph, max.
• Consciously choose your pen pals, rather than uh, being chosen. Did we say that diplomatically enough? You know the offenders in your life.
• Have several formatted emails that you know by heart ready to go – the touch base, the I haven’t heard back from you on that thing yet prod, the discreet let’s take that discussion out of my work email and into a web based situation.

Since 1986, the nation’s bohemian cognoscenti have converged on a remote desert location to pal around with other artistes and have a little hi-concept fun. The Burning Man event is what results; the nation’s only interactive, bring-your-own-survival-gear, art-intensive, de facto be-in that takes place largely outside of prying eyes.

The Place:
Black Rock Desert, north of Reno, Nevada. High Rollers: landing strip, yes.

Time:
August

Theme:
“The Body.” And expect to see lots of it.

Why:
“Burning Man”? The giant scaffold monster of an idol dominating the skyline, that’s why. You don’t get Nicholas Cage with this version (gratuitous Wicker Man remake reference.

You’ll need:
Survival rations: water, food, shelter, clothes, tampons, anything else you need to live.

Tickets:
Via credit card or buy them at the gate.

This is not a spectator event, warns the website. (Oooh, aren’t you deliciously nervous). Commerce-free, you better bring what you need cause you can’t buy anything except coffee and ice unless you make nice with the trippy neighbors. People will dress insanely, mess with your mind, put on plays, twirl fire, engage in mind-altering performance art, you name it. Each encampment is expected to aid the collective metropolis by creating something extraordinary that others can participate in. Bikes are recommended.

When They Burn The Boy Down:
Saturday night. Get naked.

No, it is not rattling chains in the attic, getting on my nerves. It is a more personal haunting. I’m about to revisit the Ghost of Me Past, courtesy of my upcoming twentieth high school reunion. And while my head is still spinning, I’ll then have to square that vision with the Ghost of Me Present. At the same time, I must bludgeon others over the head with the message that yes!, I’ve truly become the superior specimen of all that early youthful promise. I have, I have. Only one night for the sales job, so no pressure.

Everyone I will encounter has a tiny clock in their head which stopped dead at graduation all those years ago. I’ve been arrested, mid-sentence, in their minds, as they have been in mine. No progression, no changes, frozen eternally at gum chewing, sarcastic seventeen, cut down in my non-prime. Every teenager in my memory is about to morph into an adult. Eighty women in a room, all trying to stifle anxieties about what they have become. Curious to compare their wrinkles, their abs, their husbands, their careers, their children, their lack of children. All peering into a funhouse mirror that reflects back only their previous, more primitive selves. Yes, it definitely sounds like a nightmare, but it depends on your point of view.

For one night, we get to re-experience the lost self, the shedded skin we slipped out of long ago for something more comfortable. It’s a time machine. And when the laws of physics get bent, interesting things happen. Remember, everyone’s in the time machine together – so I won’t have the Bill-and-Ted problem of encountering locals who are behaving normally and think I’m nuts. What will I say to the Ghost Me, when I bump into her?

Everything turns out okay, in case you were wondering. And it’s been way too long.

I contemplated this after finding a problem with my morning ritual. First I coated with alpha hydroxy to keep cells turning over but it makes my skin a bit irritated and red. Then, I mixed moisturizer with dab of foundation to kill the redness and also protect from sun.

I’m not dry to begin with, so I started the day already glowy.Two hours later I can fry an egg on my forehead.

I considered the options. I could wash my face at midday, but I would still have to reapply the same moisturizer/SPF all over again to protect against sun damage. Would I ever have a nice, mattified complexion for long? Or was I doomed to teeter perilously between $19 a barrel and wantonly unprotected skin? And don’t tell me powder! I demand technology.

I was about to give up but decided on one last visit to the drugstore. Inspiration struck. Did I really need the moisturizer? According to my dermatologist, still young normal-to-oily skin doesn’t really require moisturizer (which only locks in existing moisture and I’ve got plenty of that). What I really needed was sun protection.

I was engaging in overkill. The answer was clear. I needed Alpha Hydroxy lotion with SPF. The Alpha would keep my face smooth, protected against sun and wrinkles, and not add that excess shininess that was rocking my world. Had some brainiac figured this out yet, or was I holding the key to financial freedom? I would found a cosmetic empire in my spare time! Damn. Some brainiac figured it out. There it was on the shelf: Neutrogena Healthy Skin, $13.

• Gauze pads and bandages in assorted sizes
• Adhesive tape, excellent for former love interests whom you’ve abducted and are systematically torturing
• Individually packaged alcohol wipes, no, that’s what the Sambuca is for, doll
• Disposable latex gloves
• Scissors and tweezers
• Syrup of ipecac for poisoning, should you accidentally guzzle Drano
• A thermometer
• Antiseptic ointments for scrapes and cuts
• Sunscreen
• Medicine for pain, fever and hangovers, primarily
• Hydrocortisone cream for minor skin iritations
• Burn ointment or spray
• Petroleum jelly
• Antihistamine like Benadryl
• Antacid
• Antidiarrheal
• Cough syrup
• Heating pad and ice pack
• Insect repellent
• Measuring spoon for dosing
• Emergency telephone numbers
• First-aid manual

Nice concept. Try again.

There’s never been any way around the whole exercise thing. It’s how you get a great body. But there is a way around yourself if you hate to exercise. You just have to find the right one suited to your individual personality.

Personality type

Lazy
Likes to veg in front of TV or movies. Lifting Cheeto to mouth is enough effort.
Ideal: exercise built around walking, not leaping. Treadmill in front of health club TV.

Competitive Viper
Not happy unless opposition lies in pulp. Likes to high-five a lot. Admiration of others critical.
Ideal: Team sports, or any individual sport where victory can be measured in a score. Soccer, volleyball, tennis, swimming, races of all kinds.

Loner
Unwilling to be watched while exerting.
Ideal: Aerobic workout tapes used at home, an empty yoga studio.

Self Starter
Enjoys competing with self, rather than others. Likes to measure own progress.
Ideal: Sports that have recognizable stages of proficiency. Yoga, kayaking, running.

Guy Magnet
Interested in meeting someone while exercising, as a side benefit.
Ideal: Go dancing. Get thee to a co-ed gym. Or continue stripping as workout.

Restating the obvious

Body benefits include reduced PMS symptoms, improved cardiovascular function, mood lifting, sense of well being, building muscle that requires a higher caloric load (you can eat more), building bone density to help ward off osteoporosis, hopped up metabolism, blah, blah, blah. You know it. Now do it.

Breve(Brev-ay) a latte with heavy whipping cream instead of milk

Dry, more foam than milk on top of your coffee (helps keep it warm)

Non-fat, lowfat or skim milk in place of whole milk. Variant forms: skinny, skim

Latte (Lah-tay) coffee with milk

With room, space left in the cup for you to add milk or cream

With whip, decadent whipped cream on top of your coffee or frap

Drip, regular American coffee

Short, an 8 ounce cup (smaller than the “tall”)

Double adds another one ounce shot of espresso to your drink

Barista (SILL – ee)
Parsing hints: Size comes first, then the shot amount, followed by fat content/milk preference. For example, “Oh, Ms. Barista, might I have a grande double breve latte with whip, please?”

Sizes: Tall (12 oz), Grande (Gran-day, 16 oz), Venti (Vent ee, 20 oz)