From the Archives, Edition 7

A bit of background before I share this amazing letter from my sister Char (age 11) to Grandpa Padden.

My grandpa made a deal with all us grandkids: don't watch TV for a year and you'll get $250 (some of the first-responders / his favorites got $500 — the lucky ducks).

Now, if you were to set me that challenge today, I would laugh in your face. But back then, $250 was soooooo much money. If you consider inflation and the worldview of a child's not-yet-fully-developed brain, $250 was the equivalent of $250,000. It was more money than I ever thought I'd have in my life.

We all did it. And it wasn't just no TV, but also no movies (with the exception of those watched in a cinema). I distinctly remember my cousin Albee sitting behind the television set and listening to the Olympics during her year sans tube. Even that was considered a grey area and potential breach of the contract.

Anyway, that's the context of this letter. Read and enjoy.

There's a lot to love about this letter, but mostly this: "Maybe you could send it to me in an envelope or something like that."

BAahhahahhaaha!

Way to really spell it out for him, Char. Just in case he doesn't know how the mail works. 

I love this because I recognize the tactic as something I do all the time—to this day—in emails when I'm trying not to be too pushy. She even threw a smiley face in there! Long before emojis existed, people still used smiley faces to say, "I'm using a nice tone. Read this knowing that I'm using a nice tone" :)

Also, it's great that she only asks for $25 of the total $250. After all, she's a reasonable woman. She's willing to put him on a payment plan. 

Surfs up!

Goodnight,

Margaret

Change

I've got ten minutes to write this. Haven't left it this late since I started my Year-28 Challenge all those moons ago.

No time for chitchat. Let's dive straight in. Tonight's post is all about change. Not change in the Obama sense, but in the coins / currency / cash money sense.

A few stories about change.

1. Today I was faced with the mind-numbing task of separating a large tub of miscellaneous change into pounds, euro cents and US coins. It was terrible! Turns out, pennies look the same in every currency. Those were the hardest. You'd be surprised how similar the Queen and Abe Lincoln look. Not only was the sorting tedious, but it made my neck sore and my hands smell like metal.

2. One time in college I was walking to the grocery store to use the Coinstar machine when a homeless man sitting on the curb asked me if I could spare any change. Reflexively, I said no. But I was holding a jar full of quarters, dimes and nickels! He must have thought, "What a lying biznatch."

3. Get this. At the HSBC on Princes Street you can throw all your change into a machine and it goes straight into your bank account. Unlike Coinstar, it doesn't take a percentage of your money. When I first discovered this, I was in awe. I've since heard that some Seattle-area banks have these machines now too. Sorry, Coinstar—you're no longer needed. You've been pushed out of the robot coin-counting market. I'll see you in hell.

That's it. 11:59pm. I've done it!

Margaret

P.S. OK, now for some change in the Obama sense. Tuesday marks the start of a major life change—moving back to America! Tonight I said goodbye to my good friends Igor, Jakub and Kaley. They're tied with Danny Glover as some of the finest people I've ever met. If anything were to have kept me in Edinburgh, it would have been them. Until we meet again, Divas!

The official 'You Know You've Made It' checklist

Where were you when you first heard your band's song playing on the radio?

I was in a malt shop just outside of Tucson. I still remember the waitress tapping her toes on the linoleum.

OK, I kid. But how about metaphorically speaking? When did you know you'd 'made it'?




I actually haven't 'made it' yet. There are still a few milestones I need to reach.

But here's the official criteria:

• You buy name-brand laundry detergent (e.g Tide). Bonus points for fabric softener.

• You sleep on a mattress that you bought yourself.

• People stop to ask you for directions because you look smart, friendly and respectable.

• In negotiations, you say "no" with the genuine intention of walking away from the deal.

• You own multiple blouses. 

• You listen to multiple podcasts.

• You enjoy multiple Thai dishes (not just Pad Thai). 

• You booked your next haircut appointment whilst paying for your last one.

• Matching socks. Every day. Even on weekends. 

• There are at least four champagne flutes somewhere in your home right now.

I'm about 65% there. I've got the blouses, but not the mattress. It's good to have goals. 

I asked Andy what he would add to the list and he said "you make money from other people's work". That's a good one, but it didn't match the quirkiness level of the others, so I left it off. 

I Google Image searched 'smug' and this smug man appeared.

Image by Stefanie Schwartz via Wikimedia Commons

What about you? Have you 'made it'?

Cheers,
Margaret

Goodbye, loads and loads of money!

I paid my taxes today.

And then I cried. Big, fat, indulgent toddler tears.

For a year I've watched that money accumulate in my savings account, knowing it's for taxes but occasionally letting myself believe it was mine, mine, MINE.

When you're a sole trader, you pay all your tax in one tragic go. You go into your online banking, enter the government's bank details and click 'confirm'. It's gut-wrenching.

So, I was sitting there on the couch, sobbing, when I heard a loud knock at the door. Poop! The postman with my Yankee Candles! I froze for a second, then wiped away my tears, threw off the Santa onesie and changed into my fleece bathrobe (still unacceptable for noon on a Wednesday, but more acceptable than a Santa onesie). I opened the door just in time to catch ol' post-face before she disappeared down the stairs.

Now, with the 'Vanilla Cupcake' scent wafting through our flat, I'm feeling a bit better about saying goodbye to all that moolah. It's just money! Now that I've learned my lesson, my plan is to make zero money next year. That way I won't have to pay any tax. Simple! I'll start a vegetable garden. I'll take good care of the clothes that I already have. It will be fine.

Andy always refers to me as a clown. He calls me 'Clown Clownson'. 

Let me just point out that 'Tears of a Clown' by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles is a fantastic tune. I wish I'd written it. You just don't get truly pathetic lyrics like that anymore. Waaaah Waaah. I'm soooo sad. I'm just pretending to be happy. Booooo hooo hooo!

LOVE this song.

Remind yourself:



That's all folks!

'Annabelle: Part 2' will be up tomorrow. If you haven't read Part 1, do so now.

Margaret

P.S. Click on the 'That's all folks!' link and watch the video. So great!

Lemon bars for sale!

I've just returned from Andy's birthday eve dinner. What a rip-roaring celebration it was! In addition to homemade 'za, Char and I baked some lemon bars for the occasion. They were delicious, if not sickeningly sweet. 

As I sunk my teeth into a tangy yellow gooey rectangle of citrus bliss, I was brought back to one of my first ever business ventures. Indeed, long before I was a professional amateur blogger, I was a bone-fide lemon bar peddler. 

The lemon bars C and I made this evening. 

The business of lemon bars

My sistahs and I were in need of some quick, off-the-books cash to fuel our Rocky's habit.

Rocky's Corner Food Store is, as the name implies, a store located on a street corner in our neighbourhood. However, as the name misleads, it doesn't sell "food" so much as candy, knock-off slurpies and a vast assortment of cigarette lighters.

Walking to Rocky's is the "it" thing to do if you live in south Kenmore. It's close enough that parents can trust their kids to walk there unaccompanied, but far enough for the kids to feel free, like proper humans in society.

Rocky's — so good even the mailman shops there!

Char and Francie (11) and I (8) put our heads together. We had graduated from lemonade stands by that point. That was kid's stuff—incredible profit margins, but no respect within the industry. A door-to-door lemon bar business, however? That had potential. A few big orders and we would be in king-size candy bar territory. Heck, with a couple wads of Washingtons in our pockets, nothing in the candy aisle would be off limits!

So, we got to work. We decided to collect the money off our neighbours up front to facilitate cash flow and mitigate risk. Armed with a clipboard and a brilliant sales pitch ("Lemon bars are delicious. Can you afford not to taste one?") we hit up each house on 154th Street one by one.

The response was fantastic. Before we knew it, our manila envelope was full of moolah. Except for one minor hiccup—a lady in a blue house telling us that a half dozen bars for $4 was overpriced—the afternoon couldn't have gone better.

Now there was only one thing left to do: bake the most delicious lemon bars Kenmore had ever seen!

We burnt them.

They weren't completely charred, but they were pretty dang hard and brown. The thing is though, we had already collected the money. We'd gotten what we wanted from the deal. It was right there, crumpled up in a big envelope on the kitchen table. If we hurried, we could still make it to Rocky's before dinner.

So, we did what any soon-to-liquidate business would do. We doused the crispy bars in a half-inch of powdered sugar, wrapped them in two sheets of thick foil and set them on each customer's doorstep without as much as a tap on their door.

We felt guilty for a bit, but then let the lemon bar business fade quickly into the past. Except we did still badmouth the blue house lady every time we walked past. What a bitch.


LYMI,
Margaret

This American Life — So hot right now

The fact that 'This American Life' is the best radio show on the air is nothing new. We've all known it for years. We all love the fiasco episode. We all guiltily give five bucks to the show once a decade. We all have Ira's name in a heart tattooed on our biceps. OK, I get it. I GET IT. 'This American Life' is good and the fact that it's good doesn't merit an entire blog post.

But hear me out. At the moment, it's particularly good. Two recent episodes—Not So Simple Majority and The Secret Recordings of Carmen Segarra—are really, really top notch. Top notchier than usual.

If you're going for a run, driving to work or getting a beard weave like Denzel on America's Next Top Model, then I recommend popping these TAL episodes in the ol' Microsoft Zune.

Ira's senior photo, 1977 via Milford Mill High School via Wikimedia Commons

OK. I wish I could write more, but I've been procrastinating all weekend and have to do some actual work now. Andy is in France and I've had no one to stop me from watching Real Housewives of New Jersey until 3am every night. Yes, you read that right. Alert the presses, I've finally gotten around to watching RHONJ. And yes, it's every bit as wonderful as you've all told me.

Cheers,
Margaret

P.S. I've spoken not a single word today. I haven't talked to anyone in person, on the phone or on Skype. I've remained utterly silent. It's always bizarre the few days a year that this happens.

P.P.S. I just said "hello" out loud.

P.P.P.S. Just did it again and filmed it.

Change is A Foot

If you've listened to my latest podcast, then you know that change is afoot in my life.

Speaking of feet - mine hurt! Every time I run my arches are in agony. And, as showcased during the opening sequence of Kenmore Jam, my feet already need all the help they can get. With the Edinburgh Half Marathon quickly approaching, I'm in the market for some new running shoes.

However, because of the aforementioned changes in my life, I can't afford to buy any! Still, do any of you have recommendations on what shoe I should get?

Cheers,
Margaret