Last Saturday I received a Citi MasterCard in the mail. I was stunned - I hadn't applied for it. Was it a scam? I already have a Citi MasterCard. I checked the account numbers and they were different; my current card doesn't expire for another year anyway. I couldn't figure it out, and I didn't know whether I should keep it - hey thanks! a spare $5,000! - or cut it up.
This morning I Googled "unsolicited MasterCard" and discovered that I'd received it because I haven't used my Macy's charge card in over two years. Hah - I never used it at all! It was also unsolicited, in a sense. I had had a Filene's credit card for probably 25 years. When Macy's bought out Filene's, they sent me their card. I have never liked Macy's. I remember years ago walking by the Filene's jewelry counter and seeing small, delicate, refined and elegant jewelry, then walking into Macy's and seeing large, clunky, hideous jewelry. That summed it up for me. I never bought anything there, and I have no intention of starting now.
The whole situation appalls me. How dare they?!?! It ought to be illegal to send major credit cards to people who didn't apply for them. According to the USA Today article I found, 3.5 million of us got these things. Obviously, Citi (who bought the unused Macy's credit card accounts last year) wanted the interest we weren't generating, and came up with this highly unethical way to make money off of us. It makes me want to cancel my existing Citi card - but I won't, because there's a caveat in the article: If we close the Macy's account without obtaining an equal amount of credit elsewhere, our credit scores could drop. I already closed the Macy's account. If I now closed my existing Citi account, it could really hurt my credit.
In an interesting coincidence, yesterday I actually did obtain an equal amount of credit elsewhere. I went down to Sears to buy some Lands End clothing, and allowed the clerk to talk me into getting a Sears charge card - which is now a MasterCard, too. So for about 12 hours, I was the not-so-proud owner of four MasterCards. (The fourth one was recently issued by my bank; I got it because I wanted a Rewards card.)
Monday, October 1, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Smug
I got paid yesterday - the end of the two-week period of utter brokeness (is that a word? The spellchecker doesn't think so. Of course, the spellchecker doesn't like to be called a "spellchecker", either, so can I go by that?) that follows my mortgage payment. So last night I went out and bought four books. Today I bought yarn to crochet an afghan for my daughter for Christmas, and had a delightful shopping spree at Trader Joe's.
And there's another celebration, and the realization of a minor goal: I used my new credit card to fix my old car. I got a new bumper and replacement horn - which turns out to be a high-pitched little squeaker. I liked the sound of my old horn better. Anyway, the bumper on my car, a 1999 Saturn composed largely of plastic, has been dangling for years. Some of it had broken away and it couldn't be rebolted, at least not easily. Last winter I snagged it on a snowdrift and pulled away the right side. The piece of plastic over the tire broke off, too. I had the bumper and plastic piece tied onto my car with a length of clothesline for about seven months. I knew it was going to be expensive to fix, so I kept putting it off. So it feels really good to get it fixed.
When I started this blog, I was trying to decide whether to trade in my car. I chose to keep it, and I'm glad I did. It's nice not to have car-loan payments.
I've also been dealing with my desire to move closer to Boston. I live in a poor city just to the north of Boston - Lynn, Lynn, City of Sin, etc. There is nothing in Lynn. It's not a bad place, but it's not home, either. I've lived here for four years now, and from the beginning I've wished I could pick up my house and yard and drop them in my old neighborhood in Somerville.
I started looking at condos online, and drove by a couple of them not far from my son in Arlington (MA, in case somebody's reading this and wondering which one. He lives in Arlington Heights - I think there's another one near Chicago.). Anyway, last night my car wasn't ready yet, so I took the bus out to my son's apartment. Total commute took me a good half-hour longer than my current commute to Lynn, the one that tires me out and was a strong contributor to my desire to move. So I won't be moving to Arlington. The 77 bus down Mass. Ave. is enough to thwart any lingering desires to live there.
But I still want to move. For the time being, I'm postponing any active pursuit of this goal until next spring.
And there's another celebration, and the realization of a minor goal: I used my new credit card to fix my old car. I got a new bumper and replacement horn - which turns out to be a high-pitched little squeaker. I liked the sound of my old horn better. Anyway, the bumper on my car, a 1999 Saturn composed largely of plastic, has been dangling for years. Some of it had broken away and it couldn't be rebolted, at least not easily. Last winter I snagged it on a snowdrift and pulled away the right side. The piece of plastic over the tire broke off, too. I had the bumper and plastic piece tied onto my car with a length of clothesline for about seven months. I knew it was going to be expensive to fix, so I kept putting it off. So it feels really good to get it fixed.
When I started this blog, I was trying to decide whether to trade in my car. I chose to keep it, and I'm glad I did. It's nice not to have car-loan payments.
I've also been dealing with my desire to move closer to Boston. I live in a poor city just to the north of Boston - Lynn, Lynn, City of Sin, etc. There is nothing in Lynn. It's not a bad place, but it's not home, either. I've lived here for four years now, and from the beginning I've wished I could pick up my house and yard and drop them in my old neighborhood in Somerville.
I started looking at condos online, and drove by a couple of them not far from my son in Arlington (MA, in case somebody's reading this and wondering which one. He lives in Arlington Heights - I think there's another one near Chicago.). Anyway, last night my car wasn't ready yet, so I took the bus out to my son's apartment. Total commute took me a good half-hour longer than my current commute to Lynn, the one that tires me out and was a strong contributor to my desire to move. So I won't be moving to Arlington. The 77 bus down Mass. Ave. is enough to thwart any lingering desires to live there.
But I still want to move. For the time being, I'm postponing any active pursuit of this goal until next spring.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Random thoughts
It was 40°F. when I got up this morning. Less than two weeks ago, we had a day when the temperature was near 100°F. No wonder I have a sore throat and a runny nose! When I was driving to the subway station this morning, I saw several kids walking to school with no coats. I was thinking, where were their mothers when they left the house this morning? But then I thought about my sons (my daughter's always cold) and what they'd say if I told them to wear a jacket - "Awww, Mom..." And then they'd go off without one. Two of the four coatless kids I saw this morning were girls, so it's not just the little boys any more, if it ever was.
The major headline in the Globe this morning concerned Governor Deval Patrick's proposal to bring casinos to Massachusetts. I'm not thrilled with the idea, but it probably won't affect my life one way or the other. I don't buy lottery tickets (I just pick up the ones that blow into my yard from the nearby convenience store, all losers, and throw them out since you can't turn them in any more). I've never been to Foxwoods or Mohegan Sun, although I'm not against the idea - if I had friends to go with and enough money to spend, I'd love to do it once in awhile. Actually, I dream of a trip to Las Vegas, just once, if I had a like-minded boyfriend... we could see the Elvis impersonators and other Vegas fixtures, visit the casinos, revel in the overdone glamour...
I've had Season 1 of Medium out from Netflix over the past week. I always wanted to be psychic. I think I have the potential. Or maybe I'm just good at picking up little details, like the guy on Psych. That's how the TV "psychics" do it. I used to love to watch John Edward (the medium, not the presidential candidate - he's John Edwards) manipulate a crowd. He just fascinated me. I can read Tarot cards, and a lot of that is watching how the person you're reading for responds to what you're saying. I would love to meet a real psychic. And how would I tell they were real? I don't know.
The major headline in the Globe this morning concerned Governor Deval Patrick's proposal to bring casinos to Massachusetts. I'm not thrilled with the idea, but it probably won't affect my life one way or the other. I don't buy lottery tickets (I just pick up the ones that blow into my yard from the nearby convenience store, all losers, and throw them out since you can't turn them in any more). I've never been to Foxwoods or Mohegan Sun, although I'm not against the idea - if I had friends to go with and enough money to spend, I'd love to do it once in awhile. Actually, I dream of a trip to Las Vegas, just once, if I had a like-minded boyfriend... we could see the Elvis impersonators and other Vegas fixtures, visit the casinos, revel in the overdone glamour...
I've had Season 1 of Medium out from Netflix over the past week. I always wanted to be psychic. I think I have the potential. Or maybe I'm just good at picking up little details, like the guy on Psych. That's how the TV "psychics" do it. I used to love to watch John Edward (the medium, not the presidential candidate - he's John Edwards) manipulate a crowd. He just fascinated me. I can read Tarot cards, and a lot of that is watching how the person you're reading for responds to what you're saying. I would love to meet a real psychic. And how would I tell they were real? I don't know.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Thoughts on 9/11
This is the Pearl Harbor of my generation, the day that we lost our innocence. We felt removed from all the violence, separate and above it all. Terrorism was something that happened somewhere else in the world, across the ocean, well beyond our view. Until September 11, 2001, when it happened here.
When I walked into the lobby of the medical school this morning, there was a poster for the lecture they give every year in honor of the young woman, a PhD candidate in immunology, who was lost on 9/11 along with her husband and three-year-old daughter. They are the faces of 9/11 to me. I can't say that I lost my faith, because I never really found it in the first place, but whenever I think that there might just possibly be a caring God within my reach, I think of them. I don't want to have any kind of faith in a God who allows young families to be killed in his name. If God didn't intervene on 9/11, why would God ever care about my petty and insignificant pain?
In July of 2001 I brought my two younger children to Washington, DC. (Older son had a job and couldn't join us; besides, he'd gone on a school trip in the eighth grade, one that was no longer given by the time my daughter reached eighth grade. Younger son was going into eighth grade that fall.) We visited the Capitol, the Treasury, the Smithsonian - all the high points. We had a wonderful and memorable time. And in the days after 9/11, my daughter said to me that she was so glad we'd gone then, because it'd all be different now. She was thinking of the added security, I think. She now attends graduate school in the DC area; we visited DC last summer, and it really wasn't any different from the way we remembered it. (We didn't go to the Capitol or White House.)
And maybe that's a good thing. The world changed, but we can still lead normal lives with bright spots in them. I still can't watch any of the 9/11 movies or TV specials; it's much too soon for me. I'm a depressive (gee, have I ever mentioned that here?), and it's all too easy to send me into one of the dark places in my mind. But a couple of years ago, I put my daughter onto a plane bound from Logan Airport to Los Angeles - the same trip the planes that hit the World Trade Center were making - and nothing unusual happened. The world changed, yes, but it didn't end. Planes still fly. People still laugh. Gardens bloom, and trees turn bright colors in the fall. Children grow up, and more are born every day. We don't forget what happened, but we learn from it, and we try to assure it will never happen again.
When I walked into the lobby of the medical school this morning, there was a poster for the lecture they give every year in honor of the young woman, a PhD candidate in immunology, who was lost on 9/11 along with her husband and three-year-old daughter. They are the faces of 9/11 to me. I can't say that I lost my faith, because I never really found it in the first place, but whenever I think that there might just possibly be a caring God within my reach, I think of them. I don't want to have any kind of faith in a God who allows young families to be killed in his name. If God didn't intervene on 9/11, why would God ever care about my petty and insignificant pain?
In July of 2001 I brought my two younger children to Washington, DC. (Older son had a job and couldn't join us; besides, he'd gone on a school trip in the eighth grade, one that was no longer given by the time my daughter reached eighth grade. Younger son was going into eighth grade that fall.) We visited the Capitol, the Treasury, the Smithsonian - all the high points. We had a wonderful and memorable time. And in the days after 9/11, my daughter said to me that she was so glad we'd gone then, because it'd all be different now. She was thinking of the added security, I think. She now attends graduate school in the DC area; we visited DC last summer, and it really wasn't any different from the way we remembered it. (We didn't go to the Capitol or White House.)
And maybe that's a good thing. The world changed, but we can still lead normal lives with bright spots in them. I still can't watch any of the 9/11 movies or TV specials; it's much too soon for me. I'm a depressive (gee, have I ever mentioned that here?), and it's all too easy to send me into one of the dark places in my mind. But a couple of years ago, I put my daughter onto a plane bound from Logan Airport to Los Angeles - the same trip the planes that hit the World Trade Center were making - and nothing unusual happened. The world changed, yes, but it didn't end. Planes still fly. People still laugh. Gardens bloom, and trees turn bright colors in the fall. Children grow up, and more are born every day. We don't forget what happened, but we learn from it, and we try to assure it will never happen again.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Little update
Why am I so sleepy today? I keep dozing off on the couch, where I've been sitting with my bad knee elevated. It's ninety-something outside, and my little cat Zoe is stretched out in the sunny patch on the carpet - what is it about cats and sunshine, even on the hottest days? I have the air conditioning on, and I'm very comfortable. Apparently, so is Zoe. I'm just trying to forgive myself for falling asleep and dozing away the afternoon. Cats never worry about sleeping too much.
All week long I get up at 5:30 a.m. and go off to work. I go to bed at about 10 p.m., often later, and this past four-day week I had trouble falling asleep most nights. I had at least one four-hour night. That'd be part of the problem, I guess. I'm the coordinator for two medical-school courses (three during spring term), and since classes are starting, it's required a lot of coordinating. No wonder I'm tired. There was a picture of three of our first-year medical students in the Boston Globe today! The White Coat Ceremony, in which incoming medical students receive their short white lab coats, was yesterday.
Thursday night our handbell choir season kicked off. During the rest of the year, we'll meet on Wednesdays, but this one time we met on the same night as the singing choir so that we could practice a piece together to perform on Sunday. That's why I didn't have a spare minute to write on Thursday. And Friday? No excuses; I just didn't write.
All week long I get up at 5:30 a.m. and go off to work. I go to bed at about 10 p.m., often later, and this past four-day week I had trouble falling asleep most nights. I had at least one four-hour night. That'd be part of the problem, I guess. I'm the coordinator for two medical-school courses (three during spring term), and since classes are starting, it's required a lot of coordinating. No wonder I'm tired. There was a picture of three of our first-year medical students in the Boston Globe today! The White Coat Ceremony, in which incoming medical students receive their short white lab coats, was yesterday.
Thursday night our handbell choir season kicked off. During the rest of the year, we'll meet on Wednesdays, but this one time we met on the same night as the singing choir so that we could practice a piece together to perform on Sunday. That's why I didn't have a spare minute to write on Thursday. And Friday? No excuses; I just didn't write.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Songs I'm embarrassed to admit I like
Songs I secretly like, but don't want to admit to:
- "I'll be", by Edwin McCain. Soppy and overdone, but hell, I would love to have somebody that much in love with me...
- "Collide", by Howie Day. How many movie/TV ads used this song? It got ridiculous after awhile. I'm not even sure what the lyrics mean. But it's pretty and romantic, and I have a pretty, romantic side.
- "Malibu", by Hole. Courtney Love can't really carry a tune, but (through whatever electronic manipulations it required) she managed to get through this one fairly well. This song just reaches a place inside of me. The first time I heard it, I thought, I could have written that. I have a tendency to fall for the crazies, I guess.
- "Unwritten", by Natasha Bedingfield. My daughter will tease me when she finds it on my playlist... What can I say? It makes me feel more positive about myself, and I need that.
- "In the house of stone and light", by Martin Page. I guess he's a one-hit wonder. This song came out during the time in my life when I thought new-agey stuff might be the cure for what ailed me. Yeah, I've still got a few crystals, too.
I'm sure I'll think of more at a later date.
- "I'll be", by Edwin McCain. Soppy and overdone, but hell, I would love to have somebody that much in love with me...
- "Collide", by Howie Day. How many movie/TV ads used this song? It got ridiculous after awhile. I'm not even sure what the lyrics mean. But it's pretty and romantic, and I have a pretty, romantic side.
- "Malibu", by Hole. Courtney Love can't really carry a tune, but (through whatever electronic manipulations it required) she managed to get through this one fairly well. This song just reaches a place inside of me. The first time I heard it, I thought, I could have written that. I have a tendency to fall for the crazies, I guess.
- "Unwritten", by Natasha Bedingfield. My daughter will tease me when she finds it on my playlist... What can I say? It makes me feel more positive about myself, and I need that.
- "In the house of stone and light", by Martin Page. I guess he's a one-hit wonder. This song came out during the time in my life when I thought new-agey stuff might be the cure for what ailed me. Yeah, I've still got a few crystals, too.
I'm sure I'll think of more at a later date.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
September
So far I'm writing for an audience of one - myself. Not that that's a bad thing, exactly... I keep hoping I'll be discovered, but hey, if I'm writing at all, that's good. It doesn't have to be witnessed.
Last night after I came home from work I watched the entire second season of Weeds. I was up past midnight. It's a long weekend, and I can sleep late (i.e. past 5:30 a.m., my usual rising time) for three mornings in a row. I don't subscribe to the premium cable channels, so I can't watch the third season of Weeds yet. It's only up to the fourth episode according to their website, so it'll be a while before it's out on DVD.
And today begins a new month. In some ways, at my age, it's depressing to turn another page on the calendar, because I recognize that there won't be as many more pages to turn, and I'm still not the person I want to be. My time is running out, and I still haven't found the love of my life. I still haven't written the great American novel - I haven't written any publishable novels. In fact, when I participated in NaNoWriMo last November and finished my novel, it was the first one I'd ever completed. It's fluff. It's cute. (My kids know that if I call something like a book or a movie "cute", I don't like it.)
But it's September, and that's a time of beginnings. I could try to sing this year. I used to sing very well. I started singing in choirs when I was nine, and have usually participated in at least one choir my entire life since then. I'm a soprano, and while I'll never win any prizes, I've done a lot of solo work and received many compliments on my singing. It had always been my experience when I attended a new church that members would suggest that I join the choir. People who knew me liked to stand near me in church because of my singing. Until now. At the church where I'm currently ringing handbells, nobody has ever suggested that I join the choir. Nobody has complimented me on my singing. Nobody has noticed my voice at all. Have I deteriorated that much in just a couple of years? It's shaken my confidence.
So I wouldn't go to a choir where I'd have to audition. But I could go to a community chorus and just get singing again. Sometimes that seems like a good idea. But I'm afraid. In the most recent community chorus where I sang, my depression led me to drop out of the group before a concert one year. (I blamed it on my gall bladder surgery, so nobody held it against me.) I just couldn't make myself go to rehearsals any more. I disliked the music, but I feel that if I were a good person I'd have sung it anyway. I don't trust myself to make commitments any more.
But I'm doing better. I've stayed with this handbell choir for four years now. I've played music I don't especially like, because we're usually also be performing other pieces that I love. It was hard to force myself to go to rehearsals sometimes, but last year, when my younger son moved in with me, he joined the handbell choir, too, and after Christmas we pulled my older son into it, too. Now it's a weekly family outing. We go out to dinner at Panera, usually, and then over to rehearsal. We also went to the area conference in June, where we had a wonderful time.
Rehearsals start this week, and we're performing next Sunday. Yep, September is a time of beginnings.
Last night after I came home from work I watched the entire second season of Weeds. I was up past midnight. It's a long weekend, and I can sleep late (i.e. past 5:30 a.m., my usual rising time) for three mornings in a row. I don't subscribe to the premium cable channels, so I can't watch the third season of Weeds yet. It's only up to the fourth episode according to their website, so it'll be a while before it's out on DVD.
And today begins a new month. In some ways, at my age, it's depressing to turn another page on the calendar, because I recognize that there won't be as many more pages to turn, and I'm still not the person I want to be. My time is running out, and I still haven't found the love of my life. I still haven't written the great American novel - I haven't written any publishable novels. In fact, when I participated in NaNoWriMo last November and finished my novel, it was the first one I'd ever completed. It's fluff. It's cute. (My kids know that if I call something like a book or a movie "cute", I don't like it.)
But it's September, and that's a time of beginnings. I could try to sing this year. I used to sing very well. I started singing in choirs when I was nine, and have usually participated in at least one choir my entire life since then. I'm a soprano, and while I'll never win any prizes, I've done a lot of solo work and received many compliments on my singing. It had always been my experience when I attended a new church that members would suggest that I join the choir. People who knew me liked to stand near me in church because of my singing. Until now. At the church where I'm currently ringing handbells, nobody has ever suggested that I join the choir. Nobody has complimented me on my singing. Nobody has noticed my voice at all. Have I deteriorated that much in just a couple of years? It's shaken my confidence.
So I wouldn't go to a choir where I'd have to audition. But I could go to a community chorus and just get singing again. Sometimes that seems like a good idea. But I'm afraid. In the most recent community chorus where I sang, my depression led me to drop out of the group before a concert one year. (I blamed it on my gall bladder surgery, so nobody held it against me.) I just couldn't make myself go to rehearsals any more. I disliked the music, but I feel that if I were a good person I'd have sung it anyway. I don't trust myself to make commitments any more.
But I'm doing better. I've stayed with this handbell choir for four years now. I've played music I don't especially like, because we're usually also be performing other pieces that I love. It was hard to force myself to go to rehearsals sometimes, but last year, when my younger son moved in with me, he joined the handbell choir, too, and after Christmas we pulled my older son into it, too. Now it's a weekly family outing. We go out to dinner at Panera, usually, and then over to rehearsal. We also went to the area conference in June, where we had a wonderful time.
Rehearsals start this week, and we're performing next Sunday. Yep, September is a time of beginnings.
Friday, August 31, 2007
You've got to give me credit...
I have a new credit card, my second. This is a major milestone for a couple of reasons. As a divorced woman, I had to develop a credit rating separate from my ex-husband's. This took awhile. When I left my marriage for a "trial" separation, I had several department-store credit cards that I'd gotten when I was married. I could still use them to buy clothes for myself and the kids. My credit rating score showed that I was responsible for half the mortgage payment on the house we jointly owned, so I never met the qualifications for any major credit cards even though my ex picked up the tab for the whole thing.
One day I was in the Gap with my daughter, and I decided to see if I qualified for one of their credit cards. I was so tickled when I was approved! It was the first card I had ever gotten on my own. It's been easy to keep that one paid off; I have a great pair of Gap jeans, but let's face it, I'm a little old (not to mention a little large) for most of their fashions. Last summer my daughter got her own Gap card, so I haven't used mine at all recently.
Eventually my ex and I sold the house and I bought the place where I live now. I was able to get a mortgage, and I feel very lucky that I didn't let anybody talk me into an adjustable-rate mortgage! One realtor referred me to a mortgage company (I think it was Countrywide) where the guy did just that - told me he could get me a monthly payment about equal to the rent I was then paying. Uh, sure. What happens a few years down the road when the payment suddenly balloons? I went somewhere else and got a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage at a rate which seems very low compared to what's out there today.
Anyway, the first time I applied for a credit card I was turned down; my debt-to-income ratio wasn't good enough.
Last summer, I was very close to paying off my car loan, so I applied online for a MasterCard and was approved! I was delighted. I promptly put a fairly large sum on it getting my car fixed up so that I could drive my daughter down to College Park, MD, where she's going to grad school. Our hotel bill went onto the card, too. I had to replace my computer last Christmas (life without a computer? Unimaginable!), and that went onto the MonsterCard (as I always call it, even though it probably isn't as funny as I like to think it is). Pretty soon I was a lot closer to the credit line than I wanted to be. I'm trying to pay it off, but it's not going to happen right away, and what if the bumper finished falling off my car, or the refrigerator quit? I wanted to have enough of a cushion to absorb any unpleasant surprises.
Applying for this second credit card was an outgrowth of the decision process about whether we should move, or I should buy a new car... that whole thing I discussed earlier in this blog. Once I had another car loan or a higher mortgage, my debt-to-income ratio would be out of whack again. So I decided to get a card now, while I still could.
I activated it this morning. It's still empty. I'll enjoy the feeling while I can.
One day I was in the Gap with my daughter, and I decided to see if I qualified for one of their credit cards. I was so tickled when I was approved! It was the first card I had ever gotten on my own. It's been easy to keep that one paid off; I have a great pair of Gap jeans, but let's face it, I'm a little old (not to mention a little large) for most of their fashions. Last summer my daughter got her own Gap card, so I haven't used mine at all recently.
Eventually my ex and I sold the house and I bought the place where I live now. I was able to get a mortgage, and I feel very lucky that I didn't let anybody talk me into an adjustable-rate mortgage! One realtor referred me to a mortgage company (I think it was Countrywide) where the guy did just that - told me he could get me a monthly payment about equal to the rent I was then paying. Uh, sure. What happens a few years down the road when the payment suddenly balloons? I went somewhere else and got a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage at a rate which seems very low compared to what's out there today.
Anyway, the first time I applied for a credit card I was turned down; my debt-to-income ratio wasn't good enough.
Last summer, I was very close to paying off my car loan, so I applied online for a MasterCard and was approved! I was delighted. I promptly put a fairly large sum on it getting my car fixed up so that I could drive my daughter down to College Park, MD, where she's going to grad school. Our hotel bill went onto the card, too. I had to replace my computer last Christmas (life without a computer? Unimaginable!), and that went onto the MonsterCard (as I always call it, even though it probably isn't as funny as I like to think it is). Pretty soon I was a lot closer to the credit line than I wanted to be. I'm trying to pay it off, but it's not going to happen right away, and what if the bumper finished falling off my car, or the refrigerator quit? I wanted to have enough of a cushion to absorb any unpleasant surprises.
Applying for this second credit card was an outgrowth of the decision process about whether we should move, or I should buy a new car... that whole thing I discussed earlier in this blog. Once I had another car loan or a higher mortgage, my debt-to-income ratio would be out of whack again. So I decided to get a card now, while I still could.
I activated it this morning. It's still empty. I'll enjoy the feeling while I can.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Apple season
Today I had a Ginger Gold apple with my lunch. The apple season is officially underway!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Here's what I should have written yesterday.
My original goal with this was to write something every day. Obviously, there are going to be glitches. I was much too busy at work to do anything quite this personal, and when I finally got home, my internet connection was down. (Comcast, as my older son loves to say, was being Comcastic.) Besides, the Red Sox were playing the Yankees... Yeah, we lost, but tonight we'll show 'em!
I hope that one of these days, I'll be able to sit down and write commentary on some odd item that I saw in the news. I'm always seeing things I want to write about, but I never had a good place to do it before. This is where being fearless comes into play. I've always been afraid to express opinions, because somebody might disagree with them and be nasty to me. I want to conquer this fear. I want to express my opinions freely and fearlessly.
Yankees Suck! Johnny Damon is a turncoat!
See, now, that was easy.
I hope that one of these days, I'll be able to sit down and write commentary on some odd item that I saw in the news. I'm always seeing things I want to write about, but I never had a good place to do it before. This is where being fearless comes into play. I've always been afraid to express opinions, because somebody might disagree with them and be nasty to me. I want to conquer this fear. I want to express my opinions freely and fearlessly.
Yankees Suck! Johnny Damon is a turncoat!
See, now, that was easy.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Why I don't have a personal ad any more
Awhile back, I took down all my personal ads. (or at least all that I can remember putting up. I probably have a couple on obscure websites I've forgotten about.) Why? Because I wasn't meeting the right kind of guy, mostly. I was tired of the crazies, the volatile ones who would talk to me online and then vanish if I didn't say or do exactly the right thing. I never met any of these guys, fortunately - and there were a string of them.
And the guys I did meet! One of the last dates I had was with a guy who sneered at me when I told him I'd like to remain just friends. "I have enough friends," he said witheringly. Yeah, he was a jerk. But he was typical of the kinds of guys I was meeting through the various online sites. That's when I gave up on online dating. It was January 2004. I haven't had a date since.
What I'd like to say in a personal ad:
No smokers, no SUV-owners, no drug- or alcohol-abusers, no cat-haters, no Yankees fans. Must be employed. (I dated a couple of unemployed leeches who were looking for a woman to sponge off of.) I'd prefer a divorced guy with kids. Must pay attention to personal hygiene. I'd prefer somebody who doesn't drown himself in cologne - I like a light, pleasant cologne, but I've known guys whose scent lingers after they leave a room. Must be intelligent and enjoy conversations more than arguments. Must have a sense of humor and be able to laugh at himself. Must be liberal in politics and religion. Non-religious is fine. (I'd like to put myself into the "spiritual but not religious" category, but these days I'm not even especially spiritual.) Must be looking for an equal partner. No one-night stands.
And what would a guy get if he dated me? Well, I'm middle-aged, middle-class, divorced, and overweight. Cute, though, and smart, and good company. I'm looking for an equal partner, not somebody to support me financially. Emotional support is always welcome! I haven't even gotten into what we might have in common - a fondness for reading, especially sci-fi; love of all kinds of music; things like that. I don't want somebody just like me - that'd be boring. I'd like somebody who I could learn from, and who would be happy to learn new things from me.
And that's why I don't put up an ad. Too many negatives, too specific, I don't know. I'm painfully honest and won't lie about my age and weight just to get attention. Yeah, I'm old and fat. Deal with it. I look, feel and think like a much younger person, so there!
And the guys I did meet! One of the last dates I had was with a guy who sneered at me when I told him I'd like to remain just friends. "I have enough friends," he said witheringly. Yeah, he was a jerk. But he was typical of the kinds of guys I was meeting through the various online sites. That's when I gave up on online dating. It was January 2004. I haven't had a date since.
What I'd like to say in a personal ad:
No smokers, no SUV-owners, no drug- or alcohol-abusers, no cat-haters, no Yankees fans. Must be employed. (I dated a couple of unemployed leeches who were looking for a woman to sponge off of.) I'd prefer a divorced guy with kids. Must pay attention to personal hygiene. I'd prefer somebody who doesn't drown himself in cologne - I like a light, pleasant cologne, but I've known guys whose scent lingers after they leave a room. Must be intelligent and enjoy conversations more than arguments. Must have a sense of humor and be able to laugh at himself. Must be liberal in politics and religion. Non-religious is fine. (I'd like to put myself into the "spiritual but not religious" category, but these days I'm not even especially spiritual.) Must be looking for an equal partner. No one-night stands.
And what would a guy get if he dated me? Well, I'm middle-aged, middle-class, divorced, and overweight. Cute, though, and smart, and good company. I'm looking for an equal partner, not somebody to support me financially. Emotional support is always welcome! I haven't even gotten into what we might have in common - a fondness for reading, especially sci-fi; love of all kinds of music; things like that. I don't want somebody just like me - that'd be boring. I'd like somebody who I could learn from, and who would be happy to learn new things from me.
And that's why I don't put up an ad. Too many negatives, too specific, I don't know. I'm painfully honest and won't lie about my age and weight just to get attention. Yeah, I'm old and fat. Deal with it. I look, feel and think like a much younger person, so there!
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Book reviews
I succumbed to a come-on from Amazon.com a couple of weeks ago - buy two Random House books and get the third free. The books arrived last week, and I've finished two of them (the ones I paid for?) and started the third (the free one?). I'm going to attempt to review the two I've finished. I want to write book reviews for amazon.com; haven't dared to yet, although, let's face it, some of the ones that are up there are terrible. I could certainly do better than that!
A Walk in the Woods; Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail, by Bill Bryson.
I love to walk in the woods. One of the reasons I've been going to physical therapy for my arthritic knee is so that I can hike again. Reading this book made me wonder if - maybe wearing a knee brace - I could walk part of the Appalachian Trail... I really enjoyed this book. I've never read anything by Bill Bryson before, although apparently he's written other travel-related books. I preferred Part 1, where he and his out-of-shape and overweight friend, both in their 40s, hiked from Georgia up to Virginia, camping out and roughing it for the most part. It was inspiring, hilarious, entertaining, and it brought me right onto the trail with them. Part 2 wasn't quite as much fun. For the most part, Bryson did day hikes without his friend, and I missed the sense of continuity of the first part - every day, they'd get up and go on, no matter how tired and grumpy they were feeling. I'd recommend this book, and I think I'll be looking for more of Bryson's work.
The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth.
I haven't read any of Philip Roth's work since Portnoy's Complaint back in the 70s. (I didn't like it.) But this one intrigued me. It's an alternative history: What if Charles Lindbergh had been elected President? No, in reality he didn't run. In Roth's alternate universe, though, not only did he run, but he won in a landslide. He kept the US out of World War II, and managed to ally himself with Hitler. Roth told the story from the point of view of an eight-year-old boy named Philip Roth growing up in a Jewish neighborhood in Newark, New Jersey; I expect it overlapped his own history. It was frightening. I think it was worth reading, and I will probably read it again.
A Walk in the Woods; Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail, by Bill Bryson.
I love to walk in the woods. One of the reasons I've been going to physical therapy for my arthritic knee is so that I can hike again. Reading this book made me wonder if - maybe wearing a knee brace - I could walk part of the Appalachian Trail... I really enjoyed this book. I've never read anything by Bill Bryson before, although apparently he's written other travel-related books. I preferred Part 1, where he and his out-of-shape and overweight friend, both in their 40s, hiked from Georgia up to Virginia, camping out and roughing it for the most part. It was inspiring, hilarious, entertaining, and it brought me right onto the trail with them. Part 2 wasn't quite as much fun. For the most part, Bryson did day hikes without his friend, and I missed the sense of continuity of the first part - every day, they'd get up and go on, no matter how tired and grumpy they were feeling. I'd recommend this book, and I think I'll be looking for more of Bryson's work.
The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth.
I haven't read any of Philip Roth's work since Portnoy's Complaint back in the 70s. (I didn't like it.) But this one intrigued me. It's an alternative history: What if Charles Lindbergh had been elected President? No, in reality he didn't run. In Roth's alternate universe, though, not only did he run, but he won in a landslide. He kept the US out of World War II, and managed to ally himself with Hitler. Roth told the story from the point of view of an eight-year-old boy named Philip Roth growing up in a Jewish neighborhood in Newark, New Jersey; I expect it overlapped his own history. It was frightening. I think it was worth reading, and I will probably read it again.
Homeowning
A little bit about me:
I'm a single mom and homeowner. My house is small (two bedrooms); I share it with my younger son and two cats. I have a tiny yard where I can grow a few tomatoes and herbs.
But I want to move back to the city.
I live where I do because that's where I could afford to buy a house on my own. I'm in a very poor city north of Boston. I commute into Boston every day for work; I drive to the subway station, take the Orange Line into the city, and take a bus to the stop nearest my job. It takes over an hour most days, and then I reverse the process at the end of the day to get back home. By the end of the week, I'm exhausted.
When my marriage broke up, I moved to a perfect gem of an apartment in Somerville, near Davis Square. I could walk or take public transportation almost everywhere I needed to go. I had only one cat then; my kids stayed with their father in the exurbs until they finished high school. I still have lingering feelings of guilt over that. But I loved my home and my neighborhood. When my daughter graduated from high school, she moved in with me. (Older son had gone directly to college without joining me in the city.) She loved it, too. She went to college in Boston, and has "the hub of the universe" in her IM profile to this day.
Four years ago my ex and I finally sold the house we owned jointly. I took my portion of the proceeds and bought the house where I live now. My younger son joined me here last year, and around the same time, I adopted a second cat. We were crowded for about a month, when my daughter moved to Maryland to attend graduate school. She gave the bedroom to her brother, who had been sleeping in the living room.
Financially I made the right choices. I bought a reasonably-priced house, and I have a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage at 5.5%. I couldn't get that today. My car is paid off. My son kicks in some of his income to support us. Why rock the boat?
Because I don't feel any connection to the city where I live. Because I'm homesick for my old neighborhood (where I can't afford to buy anything but a tiny condo). Because the commute exhausts me. And because I have no social life and no energy to seek one out.
This summer, my son and I decided that we'd consider moving. My older son lives outside Boston in Arlington, so we started looking at condos there. But the more I thought about it, the less inclined I was to take on the additional financial burden. I'm barely squeaking by even here; I'm not rich by any means, but I'm comfortable. I've got my broadband Internet connection, my family cell phone plan, my Boston Globe and Netflix subscriptions. We can eat out in one of our favorite restaurants once a week (Panera, Chili's, Uno). I've even started buying lunch at work a couple of times a week, instead of bringing it from home. Luxury!
So I considered improving my commute by getting a new car. I currently have a 1999 Saturn SL1, standard shift, and I love it. I also have arthritis in my left knee, the result of an earlier injury and arthroscopic surgery. It'd help me a lot to have an automatic-shift car. A couple of weeks ago, drawn in by the end-of-model-year sales, my older son and I went out car-looking. He succumbed, and now has a brand-new (2007) Honda Civic. He sold his old car (a 1998 Saturn SL2, almost a twin to my car) to his brother; now there are two Saturns parked in my driveway. I decided that once I added on the options I already have (keyless entry, cruise control, just to name two), I couldn't really afford a new car. I also love the control I have in a stick-shift car. It shifts when I want it to, not when some computer inside the car finally decides it's time.
The end result? I still live here, and I'm still driving my old car. That's the way it'll be, at least until next spring, when we might consider putting this house on the market again...
I'm a single mom and homeowner. My house is small (two bedrooms); I share it with my younger son and two cats. I have a tiny yard where I can grow a few tomatoes and herbs.
But I want to move back to the city.
I live where I do because that's where I could afford to buy a house on my own. I'm in a very poor city north of Boston. I commute into Boston every day for work; I drive to the subway station, take the Orange Line into the city, and take a bus to the stop nearest my job. It takes over an hour most days, and then I reverse the process at the end of the day to get back home. By the end of the week, I'm exhausted.
When my marriage broke up, I moved to a perfect gem of an apartment in Somerville, near Davis Square. I could walk or take public transportation almost everywhere I needed to go. I had only one cat then; my kids stayed with their father in the exurbs until they finished high school. I still have lingering feelings of guilt over that. But I loved my home and my neighborhood. When my daughter graduated from high school, she moved in with me. (Older son had gone directly to college without joining me in the city.) She loved it, too. She went to college in Boston, and has "the hub of the universe" in her IM profile to this day.
Four years ago my ex and I finally sold the house we owned jointly. I took my portion of the proceeds and bought the house where I live now. My younger son joined me here last year, and around the same time, I adopted a second cat. We were crowded for about a month, when my daughter moved to Maryland to attend graduate school. She gave the bedroom to her brother, who had been sleeping in the living room.
Financially I made the right choices. I bought a reasonably-priced house, and I have a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage at 5.5%. I couldn't get that today. My car is paid off. My son kicks in some of his income to support us. Why rock the boat?
Because I don't feel any connection to the city where I live. Because I'm homesick for my old neighborhood (where I can't afford to buy anything but a tiny condo). Because the commute exhausts me. And because I have no social life and no energy to seek one out.
This summer, my son and I decided that we'd consider moving. My older son lives outside Boston in Arlington, so we started looking at condos there. But the more I thought about it, the less inclined I was to take on the additional financial burden. I'm barely squeaking by even here; I'm not rich by any means, but I'm comfortable. I've got my broadband Internet connection, my family cell phone plan, my Boston Globe and Netflix subscriptions. We can eat out in one of our favorite restaurants once a week (Panera, Chili's, Uno). I've even started buying lunch at work a couple of times a week, instead of bringing it from home. Luxury!
So I considered improving my commute by getting a new car. I currently have a 1999 Saturn SL1, standard shift, and I love it. I also have arthritis in my left knee, the result of an earlier injury and arthroscopic surgery. It'd help me a lot to have an automatic-shift car. A couple of weeks ago, drawn in by the end-of-model-year sales, my older son and I went out car-looking. He succumbed, and now has a brand-new (2007) Honda Civic. He sold his old car (a 1998 Saturn SL2, almost a twin to my car) to his brother; now there are two Saturns parked in my driveway. I decided that once I added on the options I already have (keyless entry, cruise control, just to name two), I couldn't really afford a new car. I also love the control I have in a stick-shift car. It shifts when I want it to, not when some computer inside the car finally decides it's time.
The end result? I still live here, and I'm still driving my old car. That's the way it'll be, at least until next spring, when we might consider putting this house on the market again...
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