Food, Overpriced Food

Cutting back on credit cards, gym memberships, and other "treats" is relatively easy when you're out of money.

But the most insidious, the most cunning, the most irresistible place is the grocery store. Oh yeah. Food. Need it to live, don't we? Can't live without food.

Just stopping in for a sec for some milk. And walking out with $44 in groceries. How did that happen? 

I grab one of those basket thingies. Can't do much damage with one of those, can I?

 

Yes I can! I end up with painful welts on my arms that hurt for hours afterward, as I try to valiantly lug around two shopping carts' worth of food shoved into a little basket. 

But it's only a basket so I can't have that much.....

Food and I have a long, unhealthy, codependent relationship together.

For one thing, it was a way of communication with my father, Warner LeRoy. Let's face it, with Maxwell's Plum, Tavern on the Green, and the Russian Tea Room, I was brought up with food in my blood. And nothing made Dad happier than his kids diversifying their palates by trying monkey brains in Hong Kong, or Topi steak in Kenya. 

My mother, Gen LeRoy, has also co-authored several cookbooks with Loaves and Fishes owners Anna and Sybille Pump. Loaves and Fishes has some of the most delicious foods I have ever tasted. The chicken salad with arugula and dried cherries.....I am salivating just thinking about it!

So I have always loved to visit the gourmet food shops. Dean and DeLuca, Balducci's, Barefoot Contessa, Ingredients, the Co-ops, Citarella, Zabar's....even as a kid, I loved to be in the stores just for the sheer pleasure of watching the waving salamis hanging from the ceilings, the colors and smells of the cheeses and salads, the tart squirt on my tongue as I passed the olive and pickle bar, the hustle, the bustle, the samples, the bakery, the cookies, the spices, and the unidentifiable and exotic items that teased me with labels in languages I couldn't understand.

When I stopped going gourmet food-shopping, I cut my grocery bill to almost a third of what it had been. But it was still pretty hefty, because I was buying familiar brands.

Then I started looking UP and DOWN in the grocery aisles. The average woman is 5'4"-5'6", and that's where the most expensively priced items tend to be. If you look on the lower shelves or top shelves, you can usually find similar brands of whatever you are looking for at substantially lower prices.

And don't buy cut fruit! I know, I know, it looks so pretty....

...but seriously, we are capable, responsible grown-ups now, trying to save money. Let's learn to cut our own fucking pineapples, shall we?

To cut your bill even further, try The Grocery Game. For $10 every two months, you will get a list every Sunday for one or two of your local grocery stores. The website tracks cyclical sales. Yeah, the store might say that Progresso soup is at a new low price of 5 for $10, but three weeks later, they might be 10 for $10. Somehow, the Grocery Game knows that, and will let you know when items are at their absolute lowest price for that store. If you clip coupons, you can save even more. If you don't, you will still cut your new, lower grocery bill by another 30 to 40 percent.

Look, I was not raised to bargain-hunt -- believe me -- I have spent $52 a pound for lobster salad on a whim. I used to be able to afford it. This isn't about trying to save a penny here and a penny there. I'm not some chained-to-the-stove grandma with a whole bunch of bean soup recipes that will last you through the week. 

 

So I'm not kidding when I say the Grocery Game is major savings and it's incredibly easy to do. 

But recently, the grocery store and I have had an amicable separation. Really, it was best for both of us. 

I am buying the bulk of my food and other grocery needs online.

When it comes to grocery shopping, I am my own worst enemy. I shop when I'm hungry, I buy things to eat while I'm shopping and for the car ride home, I get little special gourmet yummies for my kids and husband just because those items happen to be right in front of me.

And I stock up on healthy vegetables that look gorgeous, like food porn, all glistening and moistened in the produce section.....and then brown and soupy two weeks later in the bottom drawer of my fridge.

So, if I shop online, I am not a victim of my gluttony. Or at least, not as much.

I was skeptical at first. But now I am a believer. For someone like me, an impulsive food buyer, online grocery shopping is the answer to a prayer.

Peapod is an offshoot (that's cute) of Stop and Shop, which also offers savings into my Upromise account (college savings for my kids). Also, Stop and Shop is listed on the Grocery Game, so I can still shop according to plan and save even more. Obviously, this is not available everywhere, but I am so glad it's available here.

I saved $10 off my first order as a new customer, plus I received coupons for $5 each off my next four orders. The food is delivered the next day (or you can choose which day you want, sometimes they offer an additional few dollars off for particular days when they are in your area). I can "browse the aisles," and the website remembers my previous orders so I can check and see if I need more of something. I can also use filters for Healthy Choices, Lactose Free, whatever.

I spent $122 on my first order, and saved $69 off of their regular pricing, and Stop and Shop is pretty cheap to begin with. The delivery was an additional $6.95, and the food lasted us a week or more.

I looked at my food expenditures on my Quicken from 2008. I was spending over $2000 a month on food (for a family of four, since Georgia was already at college) which did not include dining out at nice restaurants, which I felt I was entitled to at least once a week.

I now spend about $600 a month. And this "dining-in" thingie is bringing us closer as a family.

I made a 16-bean, ham, and andouille sausage soup tonight, with carrots and onions, organic chicken broth, and served with a big loaf of crusty French bread with butter. I have enough for several days, the kids loved it, and it cost less than $20 for all of the ingredients.

Okay, so maybe there's a little grandma in me....

Playing the Game

I just played a rousing game of Scrabble with my kids, if there is such a thing.

It was when they got into the 15-minute argument over whether or not "Zed" was a real word that my knee accidentally spasmed and the game ended up all over the floor.

After much derogation directed at mom and her "trick knee," I suggested that perhaps there should be a Scrabble game where the words all come off the board if you can't get them placed in time. Like Perfection.

 

Boy, that brought me back. What was I thinking, wanting to speed the game up? I hated timed games when I was a kid. I used to develop a case of the vapors whenever Perfection made an appearance at someone's kitchen table. Oh, the pressure! The pressure!

Backing up a bit, I was born a Country Mouse in a City Mouse body. Growing up in New York City, although my daily life was filled with love and support, was a terrifying proposition for me. 

There are names for kids who feel that way now....hypersensitive, or something like that. Whatever it was, the noises of Manhattan kept me up at night, the homeless people scared me, the bugs and dirt disgusted me. On top of that I had a somewhat overdeveloped fear of monsters under my bed, vampires outside my windows, and ghosts in the hallways.

And then there were these stupid games. Like Perfection. Was this invented to make kids like me even more neurotic? Am I the only one who spent a good portion of my life attempting to recreate the board game....trying to get everything in place before it all goes kablooey?

How about Operation? Another great game for overly-sensitive neurotic kids.

This guy's life completely depends upon your steady hands and surgical abilities. With such deadly diseases as Brain Freeze, Butterflies in the Stomach, and Water on the Knee, one wrong move could ruin his chances at a normal life forever, perhaps even kill him.

That, plus the ear-piercing buzzer and scary light-up clown nose, along with the uncanny resemblance to Moe Howard, or, as I called him, the "angry Stooge," definitely guided me away from ever considering med school as an option.

I'm not going to even discuss the Game of Life, until it has gay marriage, drug and alcohol intervention, creepy relatives, custody battles, restraining orders, religious grandstanding, political zealots, sexual harassment, and liposuction.

Unlike Perfection, which taught that everything could be put in its proper place before the game was over, the late, great Richard Carlson, author of the "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" series, taught me that "Your Inbox Will Never Be Empty."

I prefer to go with Carlson on this. I spent a lot of time trying to clean up stuff, get everything neat and tidy in my life, until I realized it would never be done until I was. There will always be something left in my Inbox.

Sooo....if this isn't a race against the clock, why was I always running? As we have heard, ad nauseum, it's the journey, not the destination.

 

By the way, this is the destination. We all end up at the same place.

I'm learning every day it's how I play the game; the gains I score, the times I let my children beat me, the giggles or arguments we share, the teams I play on, the losses I laugh off, even the fears I overcome, that make my life truly sublime.

And that's a seven-letter word worth 33 points if you land on Triple Word Score. Shazam!

A Place for Everything....

I am not an expert on decluttering by any means. Ask anyone who has been to my house.

I spent years proudly amassing things that I felt added value to my life, which, when Eric and I packed up and moved out last year, somehow rematerialized as total crap.

Hundreds of VHS tapes (along with Beta); novelty appliances which had lost their amusement value and important parts; mildewing, swollen journals and school notebooks -- not only of my children, but mine, my husband's, and even some of my ex-husband's; strange unidentifiable thingies that had cracked with age; enormous nests of wires and cables to god-knows-what; well over a hundred partial jigsaw puzzles and board games; clothing that was really cool in London in 1978 but I would never actually wear now:

 

 

Partnerless shoes, socks, gloves, mittens; globes, atlases, and travel books which spotlight countries no longer in existence; jewelry chests filled with cheap chains and charms that are out of style and irrevocably snarled together; cheesy souvenirs and postcards I meant to mail from ancient vacations; moth-eaten stuffed toys; boxes of clothes and quilts and blankets filled with mouse shit; cards, both Christmas and otherwise, that must have been important enough to keep for some reason; half a dozen file cabinets as tall as me, stuffed to the brim with archaic manila folders full of bills and invoices and payments and bank statements for cards and accounts long closed; screwdrivers, drills, hammers, alien tools, and thousands of gaskets, screws, nails, and other metal bits; manuals for items we haven't owned in decades; cassette tapes without cases and cassette cases without tapes; boxes upon boxes of old scratched record albums kept for posterity; and oh! the books, books, books, books, books.

We have reached Critical Mass, and, like the Universe, we are beginning to contract in our dotage. And we are liking it. At this point, out of all the stuff we packed up from our home in October, I can think of about five things I would like to see again. 

The rest? Yard sale fodder.

I have long heard that there are only three important questions to ask yourself about your possessions.

Do I use this on a regular basis?

 

Does it bring me joy?

 

Does it have monetary value?

The last one is kind of a trick, because if the answer is yes and it's something so valuable (like a Picasso or family heirloom) that you want to pass it on to your spawn, you are faced with a choice: Would it be more valuable to them after you're gone, or, if you or they are experiencing the sort of financial hardships which are adversely affecting all of you, is it better to sell now to improve your, and their, quality of life? 

It's a question of individual taste.

Anyway, the easiest and first decluttering lesson, from someone who is truly terrible at decluttering is...ta-da!

Your computer.

Here are some ways to get your computer "clean."

Emails.
Make folders, as many as you need, to file away the emails from your inbox. Some ideas might be Family, Finances, Recipes, Medical, School, Travel, Purchases, Legal, Important, Home, Household, Bank, etc. Perhaps folders for some projects you are involved in, or for your job or business. If you can't think of a name for a folder, there's always "Saved," where I stick things like friends' updated emails, nice notes from people, and something that I may be interested in someday, but not now. Periodically I go through my Saved folder and get rid of those outdated emails.

Like a good girl, I empty my inbox every night before I go to sleep. That way it doesn't wake me up as often.

Spam.
It is so easy to just delete Spam, isn't it? Then they keep sending it to you. Spend a couple of minutes a day actually opening the Spam (never open a link in a Spam email or open Spam with an attachment!), scrolling down to the bottom, and clicking the "unsubscribe" button. If you do this with just five Spams a day, you will eventually be Spam-free, like me (until they find you again)!

Desktop.
When we started The East Hampton Independent in 1993, the most computer-literate guy on the team was, of course, the youngest: photographer Gordon Grant.

I used to call him Jimmy Olsen....he really hated that. I love Gordon!

 

Anyway, Gordon taught us how to use our funny little Macs. He taught me to make as few files as possible, basically one or two rows over on the left of my screen, and to keep the "Recycle Bin" over on the right bottom of my screen. So, that's the way I still do it, and it makes me grateful to GG every day! 

I wish I could post a picture of my desktop, but I can't find the camera wire to download pictures. Told you, I am not an expert in decluttering.

Just for the hell of it, the folders I have right now are: Blogs, Bridget, Mozilla Firefox, Applications, Resumes, Games, and Blog Photos. I have a PC, but I started with a Mac, and you can simplify on either one.

When I look over someone's shoulder and they have a thousand folders all over their desktop, it just looks so chaotic to me. It would drive me totally insane.

Gak!

Applications and Programs

Periodically go through your programs. If you're not sure about it, leave it in there. But I often find a few things that are taking up a lot of memory and that I don't need. Also, don't forget to run a good virus scan on a regular basis.

 

Keep your computer clean, fast, and efficient, and the rest of your life will soon follow. 

I hope.

Credit. Cards, that is....

Another repost from about a month ago. New post tomorrow! 

 I was born a square peg in a round hole. I don't know why. It was no one's fault. I just came off the assembly line that way.

Even though I came from a privileged background and was given lots of love and toys and stuff, I always felt like I didn't fit in.

I was small for my age, a little chubby, and I wore glasses. (Come to think of it, all three of those are still true!) Even though I was very bright, I was always the last kid picked for any sports.

I'm not sharing to try to gain sympathy. I'm only telling you this because the word "pre-approved," the favored word on envelopes from credit card companies, was invented just for me.

Just thinking about being "pre-approved," right now, is making me tingle.

"I'm pre-approved? You mean, I don't even have to invite you to dinner, or attend one of your stupid cocktail parties, or suck up to your cousin, or anything? Just like that....pre-approved? Sure! Where do I sign?"

Credit cards are the devil!

There is no such word as "pre-approved." You're either approved or you're not. Period, end of story. It's just a marketing gimmick for idiots like me, made up by a bunch of suits in an office, drinking lattes and trying to lasso some suckers.

And believe me, I have fallen for it, again and again.

Let's back up just a little bit. I was actually the "success story" in a national publication for getting myself out of over $72,000 of unsecured debt, back in October of 2001. It had taken years, and a little help from my friends, and selling off objects of value, but I did it.

Now I am again with a large amount of unsecured debt, and, at this point, not really any steady income to speak of (although I expect that to change soon). So I am forced to deal with the credit card companies themselves. And hopefully to make deals with them, too.

But with the government about to seriously crack down on them, about to tighten those loopholes, it is getting harder and harder to do that.

Three Accounts
I had a closed credit account which about four years ago I had owed $25,000 on. I have lowered that to about $3800. The interest was a steady 7.99 percent since it was closed in early 2005.

I looked at the balance and statement in September, right about the time I lost my Tavern on the Green income, and the interest rate had been raised to 24.29%. When I called I was told, plainly and simply, that there was nothing I could do since the account was closed.

And let me tell you right now, because I have signed up for paperless statements, it is very very hard to find your interest rate! You have download pdfs, look at the second page, zoom in......they make it as hard as possible for you to really know how much you're paying!

I mean, I'm all for saving trees, but I want to know what I'm paying.

Or else this guy can pay my bills.

So, that left me with two accounts which were open, until recently.

One is a Citibank card I have had since 1992, with a balance of about $20,000 on it. The interest rate was 8.49%. Then I received in the mail an "opt-out" letter. Do you know what that is?

Yeah, welcome to the world of fine print. It's what the credit card company sends you on a teeny weeny piece of paper in an unmarked envelope by snail mail before they raise your interest rate. You used to be able to opt out of the "offer" of paying higher interest. I've done it probably four or five times over the years.

"No, thank you," says I. "I think I'll keep the rate I have." And then you get to keep your interest rate where it is for another year or so, until you get another teeny weeny bit of paper.

You have to send them your answer in real writing (no email) with your credit card number, and your social security number, and where you were living when you first signed up, and a stamp and everything. They do not make it easy to opt out.

But I did it, again, with my Citi card this time around, and I received a notice back saying that they had accepted my opt-out reply.

And they were closing my account.

And they did. Just like that. Because I wouldn't accept the higher interest.

So now I had two closed accounts. The good news is, at least they were both marked on my credit report as voluntary closures, so they didn't affect my credit rating.

So then I was left with one card. Chase Freedom.

Chase FREEDOM. Brilliant marketing with this one. Ah, can you smell it, people? Can you smell the freedom you get when you use this card?

Smells like bullshit to me! And I am sick of credit card bullshit.

So just for the hell of it, I called and cancelled the Freedom card too. The interest rate was about to go up from 9.99% to Infinity, and I was paying enough on this one as it was.

I have called and made deals with all three, since I have suffered a loss of income. All three cards, payments automatically withdrawn from my bank account once a month, at 6% interest on all three.
                                                                                                                                                     
Whatever you do, DO NOT PUT A BALANCE AT ZERO PERCENT ON AN EXISTING CARD WITH HIGH DEBT. They are such naughty little companies. What they don't tell you is, if you have, say $6000 at 18.99%, and you add $3500 from another account at 0% interest for the first six months, you have to pay off the original $6000 first in order to even make a dent in the rest. And you know what happens....after the six months is up, that transferred money is going to settle at a nice high rate, too. And consolidating cards does not increase your credit rating. They look at the amount you owe, not how many cards you have. So you might as well call and see what you can work out to pay down those balances faster.

This was not quick and easy, but I have heard stories about people killing themselves over credit card debt, and you don't have to do it. There is a way out.


It took about 45 minutes on the phone with each Hardship Assistance or Loss Mitigation department, going over every single dollar I spend all month, but it was better, much better, than a noose around the neck.

True, I have no credit cards and a heap of unsecured debt, but I am paying about two-thirds of what I was paying before, and my credit rating (tomorrow's topic) has not been adversely affected by non-payment. I'm paying my bills, and I'm doing it honestly. My head is held high, and I can walk down the street with grace, dignity, and humor. I won't let something as stupid as a piece of plastic spoil my day.

And the credit card companies can just go suck it!

I never ever thought I would be able to live without credit cards at my disposal, but I am, and have been for the last three months. Don't let them fool you like they fooled me. The only thing you get pre-approved for is a mountain of debt.

If you hanker for approval, get one of these.

You'll get all the unconditional love you crave, and have a lot less shit to clean up.

Money Falls Off Trees

I'm reposting from about a month ago. New post on Sunday!

What if a big bag of money were to fall in your lap, right now?

Aside from the obvious surprise (unless you were sitting under the proverbial money tree), and, in my case, the looking-up to see if there was any more on the way, what would you do with it?

I know what you're thinking: How much are we talking about?

Well, we're not talking about winning Powerball.

Or any possibly unrealistic dreams you may be harboring in your twisted little brain.

Sorry, I just had to throw those oompah-loompahs in there again.

Or maybe you see yourself giving a lot of it away, becoming the philanthropist. You see your name, or the name of a loved one, on a new wing of a museum or theater.

It depends on your own situation; on how much you owe on your mortgage, your bills, any loans, your vehicles, but let's pick a nice round number of $10,000.

Ten grand is a lot of money to just about everybody. For some of us, it might solve a lot of problems. But for most of us, it would probably help, but it's not going to make us the full owners of our homes or trucks, or even pay off all our credit cards or students loans.

But let's face it -- $10,000 would help.

And this does happen. Money does fall from the sky. Sometimes a relative will offer to help, sometimes a relative will die (sad but true), or some old investment pays off, or we divest something we forgot about, or we sell something that was worth more than we thought, or we get paid back for a loan we made to a friend, or we get an unexpected tax refund, or we get paid extra for a job well done....whatever. Trust me. Money does sometimes just show up.

Now, there are two extremes. I am one of them.

I call myself a 24-hour person. That means I don't like a bill to sit on my desk longer than 24 hours. I like them paid, I like them paid off if I can do it, and if they're charging me a shitload of interest, I like them paid off now.

The other extreme is the Just In Case person. The tendency with that kind of person is to hide it somewhere, stick it somewhere for a rainy day, not tell anyone about it, sit on it and not touch it, ever.

Well...you know what I'm going to say. Extremes are never right. And again, I only know what works for me. But it was one of my best friends, Erin, who put me right.

This is Erin with my pig, Fuji.

Erin has been through a world of shit that most of us can't possibly imagine. I'm not going to tell you all about it, because Erin and I are working together on a book about her life. But put cancer, addiction, bankruptcy, divorce, and many, many other trials and tribulations together and you will only begin to imagine what she has been through.

And she smiles through it all. Erin is one of my new heroes.

Quick aside: one of my old heroes was Scarlett O'Hara.

 

I saw her as head-strong, courageous, and you gotta love the Walter Plunkett costumes. In fact, my father once had an exact replica of Scarlett O'Hara's curtain dress made for me, complete with hoop skirt and hat and all. I told you I came from a rich family.

Anyway, now I see her as a willful, whiny little bitch who is never happy with what she has. I mean, she has Rhett, and she wants Ashley. I mean, we all know she had Adult Child of an Alcoholic issues, but Leslie Howard over Clark Gable? Girl was just crazy. And then when she got him, she didn't want him.

Yeah, great role model for me.

Anyway, back to money. Erin, who has become money-wise through making many bushels of lemons into lemonade told me, "Bridget, money will come into your life. I know you are going to want to either pay off bills now, or sit on it. You have to do a little of both."

And she's right. And you have to give a little away, too.

Let's go back to that $10,000. First of all, if you keep the money in your checking account, it will just disappear, frittered away on new tires here and new clothes for the kids there, and a few dinners out where you pick up the check, and a nice wedding gift for your cousin, and $500 to a friend in need.....do not let the money stay available to you except in small amounts.

So immediately take this hypothetical $10,000 and put $8000 in your savings account. The one that is linked to your checking account. That way, it's easily accessible, but not just a slide-of-the-debit-card away.

So how to use what's in your checking account? What if you were to just up your payments on your bills...just up each bill by maybe $25 or $50 a month? Just on the four with the highest interest?

And take $100 and give it to a charity you really believe in. Write that check. Why? Because it's both a way of graciously saying  "thank you" and also saying "I have enough" to the Universe.

And what to do with the rest? Well, as Scarlett says: "I'll think about that tomorrow."

I want to end with a little uplifting video with music by my friend Alan Smallwood and put together by Alan and his lovely wife, Lynn. Yes, it is about chanting, because I am a Nichiren Buddhist, but the little aphorisms may help you if you're feeling down.

May a little money, and more important, happiness, fall into all of your lives.

The Inn, and More Signs Along the Road

I woke up this morning with absolutely no idea where I was. After looking around carefully (it was still mostly dark out), I surmised that I was in Room 36 at the New London Inn, which Eric and I happen to own.

 

We are up in the area for a very quick visit, while we settle some business, see some doctors, and catch up with friends.

Buying the inn in 2004 was a result of those "signs" I've referred to in other blogs. 

A friend was visiting me from Rhode Island, shortly after I had sold my house in the Hamptons. I was sitting on close about 750,000 dollars, but it felt very uncomfortable, and I wanted to do something with the money besides fritter it away on future yard-sale fodder, big ticket purchases, and treats I just had to have.

 

My friend, Eric Fahey, who is a general contractor, came up to look at a house in Wilmot that we were considering buying and rehabbing to rent out.

We decided to go to Mackenna's Restaurant in New London.

On the way there, we passed the New London Inn, which I didn't realize was open. It seemed to me that it was used more as a family home than as an inn. It was built in 1792, and had been through a myriad of personalities, somewhat like myself.

 

"Why don't you buy that place?" asked Eric.
"I'm not an innkeeper," I said. But I had always loved the building, when I had noticed it.

When we got to Mackenna's, John Mackenna was manning the counter, where Eric and I sat to eat and talk.

This is where the stories differ somewhat. I recall John Mackenna leaning on the counter and saying, "You should really buy the New London Inn." John recalls me asking him about it.

However it happened, I took it as another sign. I bought it almost immediately and began the drawn-out process of renovations and learning the business as I went along.

Of course, I wasn't alone. I don't do construction or painting or, actually, much of anything, as you can see in this video filmed by Paul Bradicich of Mediahead TV. Check out my skunky blonde highlights!


Here are some of the rooms as they are today.
Room 28 "The Tulip Room"

Room 20, the one that had the farmyard border:

 

Room 21, which had the mismatched headboards:

Here is a video commercial we aired after most of the renovations were done.

Commercial for the New London Inn

Don't go by what is in the commercial, a lot has changed since then, too!

So much work went into this place. I love to walk down the stairs, sliding my hand down the wood bannister that has been oiled with the humanity of a million fingers. To hear the whispers and grunts of the building when no one else is around.

More Signs?

Because of the economic downturn and the City of New York not renewing the LeRoy family's operator lease at Tavern on the Green, my salary went to zero. Because I own the inn, I have been unable to collect unemployment, so when I say zero, I mean zero. 

I remember a friend of mine a long time ago complaining that he was broke, over and over and over again. One night, when we were out to dinner together, and he was doing the "I'm totally broke" thing, I put my hand on his and quietly offered to give him a small loan, if it would help.

"Oh honey," he said. "Don't listen to me when I complain. When I say 'I'm broke,' it means I'm down to my last hundred thousand dollars."

Bitch had more than I did!

But that's not me. So I need to concentrate on this new adventure in my life, where I actually get a "job."

What is this thing called "job"? Everything I've ever done can loosely be termed "hobby." I was like the Bluth family on Arrested Development.

[Michael is asked to take over the family business. His family stares at him.]
Michael: I'm moving to Phoenix. I got a job.
[There is an awkward silence.]
Michael: Something you apply for and they pay you to... Never mind, I don't want to ruin the surprise. 

I settle in the Hamptons for real on Sunday, which is also my son's 10th birthday. The kids start at the Springs School on Monday, February 8th.

When we toured the school, a few of the classes in the elementary school were celebrating a renowned children's book author by doing mock illustrations in his style, and short descriptions of his work. The kids' art and writings decorated the hallways.

The author was Tomie DePaola. Of New London, NH, that is.

 

Now granted, Tomie is pretty damn famous world-wide. But still....

Tomie. Who eats at the Rockwell's at the New London Inn about once a week. Tomie. Who designed and painted a gnu for my Gnus of Gnu London project.

"It's a sign," said Joelie to me quietly.
"Are you familiar with Tomie DePaola?" asked Mr. Casale, the principal.
"We, like, go to his birthday party every year!" said Bing, in his low, growly voice. That was a bit of an exaggeration, but Hey! embellishing stories runs in the family.

I've decided to take it as an omen that it's right for me to be Down There, just like the road sign on Route 89 which read "103/Warner/Bradford" was an omen for me to be Up Here.

Oh, and there's this new restaurant, just as you enter East Hampton:

Another sign?

I hope so.

The Best Stress Relievers

The best stress relievers are probably right under your very nose, and you don't even know about them.

What could they be?

 

I must say from experience that, in my long distant past, I have engaged in all four of the above at the same time. An easy buzz, if you will, but if you don't really know the guy (or gal) and can't remember the next day if you "did it" or not, it's not really the stress reliever one would hope for.

No, I'm talking about that little pain in the ass. The thing you have to feed, that always wants to get up on your lap when you're busy Thinking Important Thoughts About Problems and How To Solve Them.

Pets.

 
Okay, okay, I tried to include something for everyone. Apologies in advance to those of you who own rare exotic breeds, spiders, or alpacas.

Or you may not have a pet, which is a matter of lifestyle, choice, allergies and so on. That's okay. This blog is for the people who have pets or want them.

The truth is, they are known stress reducers. That's why they are brought into assisted-living homes and hospitals to visit patients. Because they lower blood pressure and they make our body release endorphins, which makes us calm and happy.

That's basically the point of their existence. Or, as far as I'm concerned, they'd be in my belly.

Also, pets can tell when we're stressed. Whenever we used to get ready for a big vacation, or a move, the dogs would stare at us dolefully for days.
"We're being left behind," I could hear their little doggie voices in my head. "We just know it."

Or how they slink and skulk around the house when they feel the pressure in the air.
I can tell you this: If you have a pet, and you are stressed-out and worried and angry....they're feeling it too. 

I remember, back when I used to drink, talking to my apparently immortal fish, me with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
"Why won't you die? How hard is it to just die?" I would scream at the tank in the middle of the night.
And they would reply, "Glug. Glug."

Now, as we've been searching for cheaper and cheaper leisure activities, we found the best choice was right in our own home and it's almost free.

Lavish love on your pets. They will always love you unconditionally and always be grateful for the extra attention.

Our little stress relievers:

Petie
We bred Jack Russells for a few years. Petie will be 13 soon. Here he is with  Joelie, a long time ago and yesterday.

 

Tobias G. Willikers of Kearsarge Gore

Here is Toby. We got him when he was just a baby from a long line of champion pugs. The most recent picture was taken by my friend Joyce Johnson, who, with her family, has been looking after Toby for the last few months. The Johnsons bought one of Toby's puppies and named him Thor. I liked to tell people, "Toby is spending the winter with his son."

Mei-Mei
"Mei-Mei" is Chinese for little sister. And Mei-Mei is kind of a pug. I mean, I saw both her parents. They were pugs. But she looks more like some dog from a Goya painting...she should be draped over the arm of a lady or a child with big eyes in a Renaissance portrait of royalty.

Mei-Mei is unnaturally attached to Bunny. Bunny squeaks when you play with it.

 

And then there's Nikki.

"What are you looking at, dick face?"

But Nikki can be sweet. Especially when he gets all fluffy and sneezy in his bath.

or if he's feeling especially talkative.

Here are some tips for those of you who may be considering a new pet.

1.) Do not be fooled by people dressed in animal costumes, no matter how cute they are. They are just measuring you up to see if you can fit in the back of their van.

2.) Do not be fooled by fake animals. You will be very disappointed as they tend to be more boring than, well, watching fish swim.

3.) Try to stay away from anything large, poisonous, and possibly endangered.

 

4.) Always smell the animal first. If it smells bad, do not buy. If it bites your nose off, go ahead and buy it anyway....because what's the difference?

And remember, there are many, many animals who have been abandoned in shelters in this troubled economic time, many more than what the shelters are used to. Go there first for your animal pick.....or if you don't want pets because of your busy lifestyle, maybe spend an hour a week volunteering at the local humane society, even just to play with the pets.

It will make you feel better because you have performed community service, the animals and shelter will appreciate your help, and you will be lowering your own stress levels as well.

A trifecta of goodness that will help you breathe. And smile.

And set aside time to play with the pets you have, if you have them. It's why you got them in the first place. This simple act will make for a happier animal and a less-stressed you.

And you don't have to worry about remembering their name or calling them the next day, or if you got all weird and sobby on them. They're your pets. They'll always love you, no matter what.