Live Like a Mensch

Back in December, I got the following email from J:

"Ok, you are going to think I have lost it for this but..... Groupon has a deal for auto detailing in Indy. I wanna make Eldar shine! Show me a new vanity car that depreciates thousands a year and I'll show you a beautiful blue brick of timeless (ahem) styling, excellent capability, and classic technology. Anyway, how cool would it be to have the detailers working on a 93! rather than the usual suspects?

Could you purchase the $99 treatment?"

How could anyone say no to such enthusiasm?  And, a part of me appreciated the quirkiness of having J's 1993 Volvo 240 station wagon sitting in a line to be detailed along with BMWs and Lexii.   Because J and I base our senses of humor on the song "One of these things is not like the others."

Photo courtesy of Rudolf Stricker

The Groupon expired after six months, so we had some time to plan our trip down to Indy.  J wanted to wait until spring, since it would defeat the entire purpose of the exercise if we simply got the car (the car named Eldar) covered in salt after it was detailed.

I promptly forgot about it, but J was thinking and planning and anticipating with great pleasure.

Until he looked at the details of the Groupon sometime in the last month.  Apparently, the auto detailing place is only open from 9-5 Monday through Friday.  Our original plan of heading down to Indy in two cars on a Saturday to spend the day doing something fun/getting Eldar detailed was thwarted.  Because with J only receiving so many days off a year, taking a one of them to get his car detailed is kind of lame.

Well, no problem.  I suggested that we go down to Indianapolis on a Sunday and drop the car off and have a fun day.  They could do the detailing on the Monday, and we could come back and pick it up after hours.  No need to even see them.

When I called to make an appointment for this past Monday, I was told they couldn't fit Eldar in before Wednesday.  Which meant we'd have to be a one car family for at least three days.

I think this was the point at which J said he was starting to regret having bought the Groupon.

We decided to go to the Indianapolis Children's Museum in just one car on Sunday anyway, and figured we'd just head there and back twice more this week.   It's not like it's that far. 

(Note: It's that far).

Which brings us to Wednesday.  I dutifully entered the detailer's address into the GPS and headed south, with J following me in Eldar.  We made it to Indianapolis without incident, and then wandered up and down the appointed street for a ridiculous amount of time trying to find the address.  In exasperation, and starting to believe that there actually was no auto detailer--the Groupon deal was just a money-making front for some sort of illicit conglomerate that didn't actually do anything--I finally called and asked what the heck they were next to.  After neither the detailer nor I recognized the things the other was describing as being on the appointed street, I was informed I was on Street Name East, when I wanted Street Name West--and those two streets were not actually connected to each other.

We were able to find Street Name West, but again, the address itself was nowhere to be found.  After driving up and down the street three times, we finally narrowed down where the address had to be and discovered the address number included in a tiny sign in front of a business park.  The name of the auto detailer was also written on this sign, but it was in something like 0.8 point font.  This company did not seem to want to be found.

We dropped off the car, and the detailer convinced J to let them buff out the scratches in the paint for a small additional fee. Since the only thing more fun than one long drive in a car, is a second one when the baby is awake and annoyed, we turned around and went home.

We picked Eldar up yesterday, expecting to see an incredible transformation.  The Volvo was going to be as good as new--or at least, as good as detailing can make a 19 year old car.  Unfortunately, we found that the detailer had done a job best described as meh.  Eldar was adequately detailed within an inch of his life.

To recap:

J had bought a Groupon coupon for an auto detailing that was an hour away.

We'd have to drive down there twice, using up the round trip gas three times (since one there and one back we'd be in two cars).

The company was only open banker's hours Monday through Friday, necessitating either a day off or schedule re-jiggering to allow us to be a one-car family for a few days.

Considering how difficult it was to find the auto detailer, the fact that J's car was the only one in the lot to be detailed, and the fact that the detailing was only okay, it seemed as though auto detailing was not exactly the main thrust of this company's business.  It's possible the money spent could have been better used on a teenager willing to clean the car with a toothbrush.

The detailer was able to upsell J on an additional $50 to buff out scratches.  Because we weren't deep enough into Groupon's clutches.

Don't be like Eldar.  Don't let Groupon hijack your brain.

Amazon Card Giveaway Update:

Have you entered my giveaway yet?   I will be giving away an Amazon gift card to one lucky reader who comments on this post by noon on May 31.  The randomly chosen winner will receive a gift card--and the denomination will depend on the number of miles I run between now and 5/31!  I will load $0.50 per mile on the gift card.  Here are the numbers so far:

Miles Run Today: 3

Total Mileage for Giveaway: 12

Gift Card Amount: $6

Goal: 37 more miles

For the third time in four days, LO, J and I will be heading down to Indianapolis this afternoon.

You may be wondering why we would make an hour and fifteen minute drive so often in one week--and it is because our brains have been hijacked by Groupon. 

Not to worry, I will blog all about the Groupon hijacking tomorrow.  Today, though, I want to discuss the futility of trying to keep a nearly 2-year-old from whining about being bored on a drive when his parents ask each other "Are we there yet?" approximately once every 2.78 minutes.  (By the way, the correct response when an adult asks this question is "I know, seriously!"  The correct response when hearing this question--or the toddler version of "Eh?" spoken with a questioning whine--from a child is to offer a pita chip, a sippy cup, or a toy car.  Neither classification of response is particularly satisfying).

I have always known that I have a fairly short driving attention span.  I can have fun driving for about two hours, provided I have some kind of music/audio book to entertain me.  Add to the length of the drive, or add to the frustration of the drive (like when we ran into an accident on the way home yesterday), and I start considering abandoning the car to complete the rest of the journey on foot.  At least then I wouldn't be bored.

J used to have a much better driving tolerance than I do, but I've worn him down.  Sometimes marriage means you take on each other's best qualities, and sometimes it means you turn your spouse into someone with your same bad habits.  Guess which one seems to have happened more often in my case.

Unlike yesterday, when we drove to Indy to drop off J's car (because it was a deal on detailing his car that helped Groupon to hijack our brains) and then turned around and came right back, today we will actually have some fun in Circle City.  We'll be having dinner in the Broad Ripple area, which is one of our favorite parts of Indy.  We plan to enjoy the lovely May evening on the porch of a brew pub, and then head back to Lafayette with J's newly detailed '93 Volvo 240 and my dirty hoopty caravaning up I-65 together.

I'm a little concerned, though, because this setup means I'll be alone in my car with no one but LO to ask about the relative thereness of our yet. Somehow, I doubt he'll be willing to hand over his chips, sippy cup, or cars.

Amazon Card Giveaway Update:

Have you entered my giveaway yet?   I will be giving away an Amazon gift card to one lucky reader who comments on this post by noon on May 31.  The randomly chosen winner will receive a gift card--and the denomination will depend on the number of miles I run between now and 5/31!  I will load $0.50 per mile on the gift card.  Here are the numbers so far:

Miles Run Today: 5

Total Mileage for Giveaway: 9

Gift Card Amount: $4.5

Goal: 40 more miles

Mileage for the year: 150

 (Yes, I realize that this is a chimpanzee which is an ape rather than a monkey, but I still feel as though this makes for a rather apt self portrait of a self-proclaimed number monkey who writes.)

Donna Freedman, one of my favorite personal finance writers/bloggers, once described herself as a number monkey.  She was referring to her (and other bloggers') habit of checking, re-checking, and then once again re-re-checking the number of page views she got on her blog.

I really liked the term number monkey, because it summed up how I tend to look at life.  For a word-nerd lifelong English major (and if you think you can't major in English in the real world, I would say you haven't met my overflowing bookshelves), I find it a little odd how much of my life I gleefully reduce to numbers.  I, like Donna and other bloggers, spend an indordinate amount of time on Google Analytics trying to determine just how I got two readers in Slovakia to check out my blog, while also wondering how I can get those Slovakian readers to multiply.

But, of course, obsessively checking to see just how many people have viewed a particular page on my blog is not the only way I am a number monkey.  No, I take my number obsessions to new heights.  At the risk of having the greater internet (which has certainly seen some weird things) tell me "Dude, you are WEIRD," here are three of the ways I let my number monkey tendencies carry me through each day:

1.  I create debt payoff thermometers.

I know others do this, but I derive an incredible joy in coloring each tiny increment towards $0.  It's this bad boy that led me to sending another $20 to my student loan this month, because I was just a hair over $9000 owed, and darn it, I wanted to pass another milestone so I could add it to the thermometer.

2.  I count down the number of seconds I have to run to finish the next mile.

Photo courtesy of Beyond silence.

So, there are 900 seconds in 15 minutes.  When I'm slogging through a particularly tough mile and half or so on the treadmill, I'll count down the seconds ("900, 899, 898...") until I've reached whatever goal I've set.  When I mentioned this habit to J, he shook his head and asked me "OCD much?"  But I find the countdown both soothing and motivating.  It also helps me push past goals I've set--even if I've promised myself a break at the end of the 900 seconds, I'll start over with another 900.  Becuase it's really not that long.

I have to admit that this is a fairly weird number monkey habit.  And it is kind of a crutch for my running.  But darn it, those 900 seconds are a heck of a lot easier to deal with than 15 minutes.

3.  I calculate percentages in my head.

This isn't just about the fact that I can calculate percentages in my head.  (Which is really just about me taking 10% and then multiplying it).  No, I spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about the percentages of each paycheck I earn through my writing.  20% goes to retirement, 35% goes to taxes, 3% goes to LO's 529, and the remainder (42%) goes to the money kitty.  (Something like a number monkey, except that it's not really a feline).

For most non-number monkeys, just knowing these percentages would be enough.  This is why G-d invented calculators, after all.  But for me, I love determining in my head how much each account will get while I'm also doing other things, like running, driving, taming lions, or other day-to-day activities.  I particularly love it when the amount is not easily divisible--like a recent payment I received for $353.  I'd come back to those percentages over and over again, just to check my math.  Heaven!

Any other number monkeys out there?  Or are Donna and I the only ones?

By the way, don't forget to enter my interactive giveaway!   I will be giving away an Amazon gift card to one lucky reader who comments on this post by noon on May 31.  The randomly chosen winner will receive a gift card--and the denomination will depend on the number of miles I run between now and 5/31!  I will load $0.50 per mile on the gift card.  Here are the numbers so far:

Miles Run: 4

Gift Card Amount: $2

Goal: 45 more miles

Mileage for Giveaway: 4

Mileage for the year: 145

Photo courtesy of Brandon.wiggins

We have reached the time of year when I most enjoy running.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing, flowers are blooming, days are longer, and more people are out and about.   It's a very good thing that now is when I most feel like running, since I am dreadfully behind on my 500 mile challenge.  I had originally planned to run 42 miles each month, but I have only broken the 42 miles in a month marker once this year.  

Still, I am hoping to reach 250 miles by the end of June.  If I am halfway through the year and halfway through my challenge at the same time, I'll feel pretty good about tackling the second half of my challenge.  It's not going to be easy to get there, though.  Here is where I stand as of today:

Miles run in May: 23

Miles for the year: 145

Mileage breakdown: Week of May 1-8:  12 miles total, with one 3-miler, one 4-miler and one 5-miler

Week of May 9-15: 11 miles total, with one 2-miler, one 4-miler and one 5-miler.

I think that I can potentially run another 40 to 45 miles this month, bringing to 185-190 miles for the year, which will only leave me 60-65 miles to run in June to catch up with my halfway deadline.  That's certainly doable, especially during my favorite part of the year.  It's doable, but then again--yikes! So, I've decided that I could use some help with motivation.  That's where you and the Amazon giveaway come in.

For every mile I run between now and May 31, I will load $0.50 on an Amazon gift card to be given away to one lucky winner on May 31.  Each mile I run makes your gift card bigger--and gives you more reason to cheer me on.

To enter, write a comment on this blog post by May 31 at 12 noon.  The lucky winner will be chosen randomly and alerted via email.

Between now and then, I'll keep a running tab--no pun intended--of my miles at the bottom of each blog post.  I'm even going to start the giveaway with today's miles (all four of them!) to get the ball rolling, so that gift card already has $2 on it.  Let's see just how high we can get this prize!

Please, leave a comment here to win the ever-increasing Amazon Gift Card.  And may the odds be ever in your favor!

  Photo courtesy of Crazycomputers

For my second ever Mother's Day, I requested that the entire Mensch family amble down to The Children's Museum of Indianapolis.  Because nothing says maternal love like showing your toddler the 6-inch razor sharp teeth of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Between the baby play room, the real steam locomotive that is so big it had to actually be built into the museum and will rest there forevermore, the Legos, and of course, the aforementioned dinosaurs, a good time was had by all.  And that was barely scratching the surface of all the museum has to offer.

However, on the way into the museum, a recording playing on continuous loop admonished us (and all the other patrons) to sign up for a family membership.  The ticket booth made a similar pitch.  I was putty in their hands, since there was so much cool stuff to see, and I loved seeing my little one enjoying himself.

Unfortunately, I seem to have some sort of brick wall in my head where the simple calculation of cost of membership divided by one time cost times number of planned visits per year--that is, cm/1c x vpy = it's still cheaper to pay as you go--seems to throw me into a delusional state wherein I think time flows muuuuuch more slowly.  For some reason, I overestimate the visits per year (because we always have free time every weekend) and no matter what, I assume membership is best.  Even when I've seen it burn me before.

This is why J and I make a great team.  Last summer, when the water park that is literally across the street from our neighborhood opened for the season, I spent a ridiculous amount of time and brain space trying to determine if we would visit it often enough to justify the $100 season pass, considering it was just $14 for all three of us to go for the day--and $7 if only LO and I went. 

The water park is just across the street, I reasoned.  It's practically like stepping into our back yard.  Of course we'll be there most days over the summer.  We only need to go as an entire family 7 times to make membership worthwhile.  My goodness, we'll knock that out before the 4th of July!

J listened to my reasoning.  He, to his everlasting credit, did not make fun of me.  He did not point out the amount of effort necessary for packing up, transporting, unpacking, repacking, returning home, and then laundering all of the required baby gear one must have for a quick jaunt to the pool.  (If you've never done it, just know that some graduate degrees take less time.)  He didn't even take the calendar down from the wall and point out all of the events we already had planned for the summer, and which were written on said calendar in my handwriting.  No, the ever-practical J simply proposed that we go to the water park as often as we liked over the summer, and decide afterwards if it would make more financial sense to become members in 2012.

As of Labor Day, 2011, we had gone a grand total of twice.  Score one for J.

So, when the siren's song of The Children's Museum of Indianapolis started scrambling my brain (which J could sense because a distinct burning smell accompanied my far off look into potential futures), J said "Let's treat this like we did the water park."

It's good to have a plan.

One of the unanticipated joys of marriage is the money dance.  You know what I'm talking about.  When you have a great idea for the use of your shared money.  Only you need to get spousey on board.

For example, J knows that I am already mourning the loss of my hoopty, the Mazda 626. 

It has been a faithful pile of crap for the six years that I have driven it.  But I will be moving on to greener pastures soon--a 2002 Honda Accord that my parents will be selling me.  The Accord has fewer than 35,000 miles on it, all the options, and is a real grown up car.  It is also an automatic, which is the main reason why I am sad to see Old Mazda go.  Driving a manual shift car was a hard-won battle for teenage me, as I am not particularly mechanical.  Now that I can drive a stick shift, it feels like a chapter is closing to drive a real grown up car with an automatic transmission.  (Don't get me wrong.  I'm THRILLED to be buying Grandpa and Bubbie's car from them at a price I can't refuse.  There's just a tinge of sadness to say goodbye to my skull-topped stick shift.  [That skull shifter was actually a gift J gave me when he was in the doghouse one time, which tells you all you need to know about me and J's understanding of my quirks.  It definitely got him out of the doghouse]).

In any case, J pitched me the following idea to help me overcome my stick shift malaise.  We should buy a Mazda Miata for the summer, and sell it when the fast-driving season is over.

Photo courtesy of Bull Doser

I told him I'd think about it, which he and I both knew meant I hated the idea.  Buy a car that we don't need and don't have space for just to sell it at a loss several months later?

Meanwhile, I'm trying to convince J that he and LO and I all need to go to New York City in August.  I'll be heading to the BlogHer conference and staying with a friend in Astoria, and wouldn't it be a wonderful opportunity for the Mensch family to crowd into said friend's living room and spend some time in the city that never sleeps?

Photo courtesy of Javier Carbajal

After some preliminary searching, it appears that flying to New York will cost us approximately $750, and that doesn't include whatever we'll have to pay for once we're there.  J said he'd think about it.  Which we both know means he's not so thrilled about the idea.

Now, we start the dance.  Suddenly, movies about sports cars and New York will show up in our Netflix queue.  We'll happen to bring home Rough Guides to New York and/or Miata owners' manuals.  Friends who happen to live in New York or own Miatas might stop by or call suddenly, just burning with a passion to share how much their experience has enriched their lives.  All of this will appear to be unprompted and out of the blue.

Unfortunately, the jig is up now that I've written about this.  But, things are probably going to work out, anyway.  When J asked me what I was writing about today, I told him I was going to talk about the money dance married couples make, like with New York and the Miata.  He sighed and said, "Yes, but we're probably going to New York and I'm not getting my car, am I?"

Poor, dear, sweet, smart man.

After serving the Menschkin a pickle, some hummus, and part of a turkey sandwich for breakfast, I realized that part of my dinner (and lunch and breakfast) conundrum this week stemmed from the fact that we were out of all the staples.  So, after dropping LO off at daycare today, I stopped by our local Marsh supermarket to do a little light shopping.

It was at the end of the cereal aisle that I nearly became the victim of rampant marketing.  There was a large display of reusable canvas grocery bags, over which a large sign proudly proclaimed "FREE!"  Now, I'm a bit of a sucker for canvas grocery totes, particularly when they are cute.  These were all Kellogg cereal related, and offered adorable scenes of the various spokes-suns/elves/tigers.  Since I had only grabbed two of my own grocery bags on the way out the door, I was happy to throw one of these free bad boys in my cart.  After all, Marsh gives you $0.05 off for every reusable tote you use for bagging.

That was the point at which the non-acquisitive portion of my brain started asking questions.

"Wait a minute," it said, dashing some cold water on my new bag happiness.  "No one gives anything away for free.  Read the fine print."

Lo and behold, that portion of my brain was absolutely correct.  Underneath the intelligence-dulling word FREE was a smaller notice that read "with the purchase of two Kellogg's cereals or Pop Tarts."

"Not a problem," said my acquisitive side.  "I wanted to get cereal anyway."

I waded into the cereal aisle, and started the arduous process of trying to find a breakfast cereal that meets my (admittedly ridiculous) standards for nutrition.  Generally, I only buy the kind of cereal that one could mistake for a bowl of twigs and tree bark, with a couple of unsweeted cranberries thrown in.  Those cereals cost a mint, but they don't have sugar as one of the first five ingredients--and generally they only have five ingredients anyway.  While I might happily snark down a Wendy's burger or a Domino's pizza, I try to keep the foods in the house to a higher nutritional standard.

Raisin Bran just barely met my requirements, even though the sugar coated raisins bother me.  But at least it's high in dietary fiber.

"Mmmmm!  Fiber!"

But I could not find a single other cereal that I was willing to purchase.  Not one.

Ms. Acquisitive shrugged and grabbed a second box of Raisin Bran.  That Sun guy is awfully friendly, you know.

And then I argued with myself for the rest of the shopping. 

I already have more grocery sacks than any one environmentalist needs. 

But this one is SOOOO cute.  

I really don't need two boxes of nutritionally questionable cereal in the house. 

But it's a healthier after-dinner treat than ice cream. 

I'm spending more than I intended to. 

But, FREE! And you'll save $0.05 for having another tote!

Finally, my sensible side prevailed, but only because I had to go back near that aisle to pick up the raisins I'd forgotten on the first pass-through.  Wheeling past the endcap display of FREE! bags, I reluctantly placed my cutie cute Kellogg's bag back, along with one of the two boxes of cereal.  It simply wasn't worth it to bring in an extra box of sugary cereal, plus an unnecessary extra tote bag, and pay for the privilege.

I was a little sad at the time, but now I feel almost as if I've kicked some butt.  Yeah, that's how I roll Snap, Crackle, and Pop.  I don't let intelligent marketing or breakfast cereal elves into my head.

The Keebler Elves might be a different story, however.  Those Fudge Stripe cookies are delicious.

This might sound like nonsensical advice, but I have just discovered that using the internets to order delivery is like going to buy a gallon of milk when you're ready to gnaw off a hand.

As you may remember, LO and I are by ourselves this week.  LO has been feeling under the weather, and he's been kind enough to share his cough with me.  This led to a 3 1/2 hour co-nap this afternoon after a mostly non-existent lunch.  I woke up ravenous, and LO felt about the same way.  Since I didn't want to wait the amount of time it would take to cook before I could provide my hungry little boy something to eat (rationalize much?), I decided to check out the freaky fastness of a certain sandwich delivery chain:

Photo courtesy of Ed!

After placing a reasonable order, I got out the peanut butter, the raisins, a sliced apple, and the last of Monday's Chinese food to tide us over for the wait.

Therein lay the first problem.  Apparently, Jimmy Johns is one of the very few believers in truth in advertising.  I didn't time the delivery, but it was certainly less than 20 minutes.  Which, if you listen to stomach scientists (that's a thing, right?) is about the amount of time one needs to go from full on red alert FEEEEEEEED ME to "I don't know.  I might be a little peckish."  (Provided there is a sliced apple, raisins, peanut butter and some broccoli with garlic sauce in between).

And then I encountered my second problem.  The amount of food that seemed reasonable when I was placing the order is a heck of a lot more food than one woman and a half-pint toddler can easily consume in TWO sittings.  (For reals--what made me think I needed a sandwich, a pickle, a bag of chips, an order of lemonade and TWO cookies?)

Since J's business trip will continue until Friday, I guess I should just be grateful that I have tomorrow's dinner covered.

I'm willing to take bets on whether that second cookie will make it until Thursday.

Last night, LO and I were reading the perennial favorite Pat the Bunny, which is now one of the young man's favorite pre-bedtime reads.  In particular, he loves the opportunity to play peek-a-boo with Paul, and when Paul's Mummy holds out her ring.  I had the thought that perhaps I should show LO the real world application to what he's reading, in good former English teacher style.  So, I slipped off my engagement ring and held it out to LO, saying, "Can you put your finger through the ring?"

Photo courtesy of Jeff Belmonte

LO, without so much as a how-do-you-do, grabbed the ring out of my hand and strode purposefully into the other room, giving me plenty of time to wonder if anything good could ever come of my educational impulses.  I caught up with him crouched over his piggy bank, attempting to deposit the beautiful, jewel-tipped and hollow coin.  He was pretty understanding about my retrieval of said "coin," which makes me think he knew all along that it didn't really belong in with his 529 plan.

It also probably helped that I was laughing and hugging him, since it was so dang cute.

Photo courtesy of dslrninja

J is out of town this week for a business trip.  As much as he did not want to go--he'll be in a small town in Illinois for a week working 12 hours a day, which is just about anyone's idea of fun--I was really sad to see him head out.  Single parenting a toddler, even for a week, is one of the lesser known methods of prying secrets from military spies.

I do pretty well in the morning and afternoon.  The problem hits around 5 pm.  This is my normal low-energy time, and add the idea of having to put together dinner for myself and LO, and you have a recipe for eating a home-cooked nutritious meal of greasy takeout every night.

Tonight, it's Chinese.  We've got the noodle food group, the saucy food group, and the deep fried filled dumpling food group covered.

Tomorrow night, we'll probably order pizza, making sure we cover the all important cheesy-covered bread group.

I really would like to round out our dinner selection a little more with other vitamin-infused foods, but unfortunately, no one has yet started a company that will deliver a hot fudge sundae within 45 minutes.  (Which I simply do not understand, because they would be a millionaire!)

So, at the end of J's business trip, poor J will be exhausted and ready to come home, and LO and I will be in danger of getting Rickets.

I'm just glad he'll be home before the Scurvy sets in.