Ramblings

It was my intention to post at least every other day but life got in the way.

My sister had knee surgery and I have been spending more time with the family as a result.  She is doing dandy — and seems to like the vicadin quite a bit.

So the night before her surgery she decides to take her hubby out for dinner as his birthday is this week.  And I agree to take care the nephew… with the stipulation that his daddy bathes him beforehand as I have the strength for bath or bed but not both.  So come bedtime, I am once again ensconced in the racecar bed and given the task of telling him a story about his adventures with aliens. 

Remember, I am making it up on the spot.

Me:  Nephew was walking home from school one day when he met an alien -

Nephew:  No, that is wrong.  I am a robotboy!  I go to robot school.

Me:  RobotNephew was walking home from Robotschool today when he met an alien…

Nephew:  No… he met 10 aliens.  And they were brothers.

Me:  Say, who’s telling this story?

Nephew:  You.

Me:  Then why are you interrupting me?

Nephew:  Because you are telling it wrong and it sounds better this way.

He has never heard the story before (me neither!) but I was still wrong.   I am not prepared for his teenage years. 

In other news, the money came and I have caught up on everything so am not waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.  I was not happy about liquidating but now that it is done I am less upset about it.

I am picking up the nephew from school on Friday while his mom is at the doctor’s.   Lately when he sees me I get “You again?”  But my mother reports he has been stellar this week so I might catch a break.  But I better get my alien stories straight or I will be the recipient of his withering glare….

More later!

Only Human

Last night I was babysitting my 5 year-old nephew.   After a challenging bath, I was faced with the even more daunting task of getting him to bed.  He likes to stay up late and keep his parents company.  Preferably in their bed.

After much coaxing, he agreed to go to bed if I would lay down with him.   He has a very cool race car bed which I bought him a couple of years ago.  It is comfortable for a little boy.  Not so much for a forty something woman.  It is not the mattress.  It is getting out of the thing that gets me.  But I digress.

His first stalling technique was looking for his “sleeping hat” which turned out to be a Santa hat.  When we were finally settled in bed he moved on to the second stalling technique:  “Tell me a story.”

So I told the classic Goldilocks and the Three Bears.  He did not much care for this one and asked for a story starring him.  So I cast him as Little Red Riding Hood.  All went well until I reached the lines where the wolf said “All the better to see you with.”

“Wolves don’t talk.  They howl.  And they don’t live here either.  Tell me another story.”

Gathering my wits, I started a story about how glad I was he found his sleeping hat because I added some magic to make him fall asleep…

“Nooooo!   Only fairies have magic.  You’re human.  Fairies have tiny bodies and wings.  Do you have wings?  You’re human and have no magic.”  I could see him glaring at me in the dark.  He often looks at me like I am the biggest dolt to come down the pike in years. 

“Well,”‘ I said, in full backpedaling mode, “I mean I have superpowers–”

“Nooooo!  Only Superman and Spiderman and people like that have superpowers.  You’re human and have no superpowers.”

The same kid who totally believes that I have cocktails with Santa regularly and knew him in college, does not credit me with any magic or superpowers.

But suddenly, he was asleep.  And he stayed asleep.  So maybe, just maybe, I do have magic or superpowers after all.

Market and Blood Pressure Fluctuations

As the market  continues to behave like it has a bad case of PMS, my blood pressure rises.

I do not normally check my retirement accounts and just wait for my quarterly statements because I have done very well just leaving things alone for the longest time.

But this week I made the unhappy decision to liquidate one.  In 2 days it has lost about $1,000.00.   I have no idea where it will stand when they finally transfer the money out.  But hopefully it will not drop any lower.

About two months ago, I rolled over my 401(k) into an IRA.  (I would have left it as it was but my former company had been sold and I had to roll it over into something by a certain date or take a cash distro which I did not want at the time).  Today I decided — being a glutton for punishment — to check on it.   I have “lost” $4K.

I am leaving it as is for the moment because — honestly — I don’t know what to do.   And, more to the point, with one exception, my money is in the same funds they have been in for the past 7 years and last year I had a 20% gain which I was told was quite good and better than many have had.  By doing nothing. And adding nothing.  And if I was not a nervous nellie I would not have even looked today.

But I did.  And I am foreseeing a retirement that will not begin til I am 90, will last a week, because I will drop dead from the stress of finding that my retirement account will not cover the cost of a meal at McDonald’s.   

I imagine I am not alone in my worries.  

And I also know that things will pick up.  That it is all cyclical.  That I will find a job.  That I will start another 401(k) at my new company.   That I am not done living, working, and learning and that many good things may well come into my life.  But now I really understand why so many jumped out windows during the Crash of 1929.   

No, my losses are not severe and in one case are really just on paper at the moment.  But it has gotten me started thinking about what an idiot I have been where money is concerned and what I need to do to change it.

And it has made me start thinking about my beloved nephew.   He is going to think it a really bad birthday present but when he turns 18, I am taking him to the bank and we are opening an IRA for him.   He has a college fund and he can get loans and aid.  But, as stupid and ridiculous as it will sound to him to worry about retirement when he will not even have started working yet, it is probably the best present he will ever get considering the time value of money.  

I wish I knew then what I know now.    I guess all I can do now  is remember that we all do the best we know at any given point and when we know better we do better.

Onward and upward, for me and that dyspeptic market.

  

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’

This afternoon I stubbed my toe on the wastebasket I keep loose change in.   I looked in and it had a lot of change in it.  And there was quite a bit of silver twinkling among the copper.  So I decided that it was stupid to let it sit there where it was doing bodily harm and, as I had a bunch of coin wrappers, I decided to get rolling.   So far it is turning out well.  $25 and I have not even started on the pennies yet and there are quite a lot of them.  I hate rolling pennies.  You have to roll forever (or so it seems) before you get anywhere. 

It reminded me of my childhood.  My dad was an auto mechanic for many years before he went to work for an airline.  He made it his habit to put his tips and loose change into a plaster bank we kept on the counter.  Every so often, as a family, we would crack open the bank and roll coins.  This was how we bought our color TV ca. 1970 and paid for lots of extra little things.   My father, I know now, was hoping he was teaching a valuable lesson by example.  My mother was more of a spender than a saver and he was forever trying to ward that tendency off in us.  With not much success, unfortunately, although I have improved over the years.   But I remember how fun it was as we rolled our coins and flattened out the bills and envisioned what we would buy with this treasure trove of money.   A few days after the “great rolling of the coins,” dad would bring home another bank and we would start all over again.  (These never had plugs on the bottom, you always had to break them.  Guess it was to keep anyone from filching).   I miss those days.   This “great rolling of the coins” is not as much fun.   It is boring to do alone.   But it will perk my checking account up some tomorrow morning, even if it does not perk up the poor teller.    But I think I am going to make it more of a habit to roll up my coins once a month and add them to my savings account.   I have the terrible habit of walking around with pounds of coins in my bag.   It will probably add up quickly…

And somewhere my dad will be smiling.

Expected end of retirement?

The other day I decided to go and check on one of my retirement accounts.   The site offers a retirement calculator so that you can see how much more you need to retire.  It asks a few questions about how much you plan to spend each year of your retirement, etc.

I then came to a question about the “expected beginning of retirement.”  So I plugged in 65.

The next question was “Expected end of retirement?”   I was stumped for a second.  I was not going back to work at 90.  Then it dawned on me in a hideous, horrible, freaked out way that they were asking when I imagined I would kick the  bucket!  

The number already in the box was 90 so I left it.   How the hell should I know when I expect to “end my retirement”?  It does however sound better than asking when I expect to die.   I know we are all going to die someday but I still hold out hope that I might be an exception.  And how do you figure it out anyway?  My dad died when he was 58.  My maternal grandfather died a year ago at 103. 

I will leave it at 90.  If I go sooner, the nephew (aka “the sole heir to my fortune”) gets some dough.  If I go later, then hopefully I will not  have led such a wild life in my 80′ that I will have a bit left to live on.

And I am back…

I really made my first entry on the 11th but it shows as the 12th.  So I am hoping that this shows as the 12th and not the 13th.  Time goes fast enough without me doing today what looks like it is being done tomorrow.  Of course if I were in Australia…

But I am not.  I am here in the surprisingly sunny climes of the Midatlantic states.  It has been some odd weather.  Happily though it has meant a couple of days of not turning up the heat which can only mean good things for my gas bill.  I hope.   Strangely it always seems higher than it should be.  I know oil hit 100 bucks a barrel for about 2 hours so I am assuming that we will all be billed accordingly.

But it is a nice day out so I will get out there.  Must get to the laundromat.  How do I gage the need to go?  When I am down to wearing the undies that would shame my mother if I am in an accident.   And we are nearly there.  The current pair would just cause her to shake her head as opposed to imploding.  Is that too much info?  Well, probably, but it is my guess that most of us have categories of underwear that pretty much follow a set pattern.   Hot date,  Other special occasion,  Need a pick me up,  Everyday, No one Will Be seeing me today,  Pitiful,  and I Should be Ashamed and Throw These Out.   And then some add the category ”I will wear these on vacation and throw them out as I go.”   And I fear that this practice may have started the “Ugly American” branding.   Maids and ER doctors around the world, shaking their heads “My God, they can afford to travel but look at the state of their undies!”

Speaking of traveling, I was talking with an old friend last night who is going to Italy in March.  She is going to Florence and Rome.   I have never been to Florence, but have been to Rome.  It’s an amazing city.  I hope she has fun and I wish I were going.  I love Italy.  I love the lifestyle.   So much less stressful (unless you are trying to cross the streets in Rome.  And they say NY cabbies are bad…)  Every time I come back from my European adventures (sounds good.   sounds like I am off at the drop of a hat instead of what seems like every 12 years) I decide that I am going to live la dolce vita.  I start with a nice cup of caffe latte and it goes downhill from there.    It is hard to lead life at a slower pace here.   To take 2 hour lunches that might include a nap.  To shop daily for produce from farmers stalls.   To have at least 4 weeks of vacation as a given.  ( That alone would make me happy.)   Why we are so stingy about vacation time and often don’t use the miserly amounts we get is beyond me.

Living to work instead of working to live.  I think that is what gets me.  Now I have been unemployed for a while and I do not miss work.  The paychecks yes.  The sitting at a desk and dealing with middle management types… not so much.    About 3 years ago I had a very stressful job.   One fine day, shortly after our semi-annual trade show, while all hell was still breaking loose, I up and had a stroke.  That is what they told me later.  I was on the train to work and thought I was having a panic attack.  Got off the train, went to work, put in a full morning and just before we were going to order lunch I had a seizure. (This experience prompts me to scoff when a pitcher can’t pitch because of a blister and I worked hard post-stroke and pre-seizure). The ambulance came and carted me off.   They took scans and whatnot and decided I had a brain tumor.  I went back to work part time until my biopsy.   I had assured them all I would be back in a week to help close down our offices.  (Did I mention I was going to be out of a job?  Double severance was all that was keeping me there prior to my stroke).   But did you know that when they do anything even as relatively mild sounding as just drilling a small hole in your head and extracting a tiny smidgen of brain tissue, you are laid up for a month?   News to me.  Anyway, after the biopsy they determined that it was not a tumor but scar tissue from a stroke.  (Possibly had another without knowing it).    During a post op visit to my neurologist I asked if stress had caused all this.  And he said that nothing about my bp, cholesterol or anything else would make me a good candidate for a stroke at my age.  But that stress did not lead directly to strokes.  (There is some feeling that birth control pills may have contributed but he felt that was not likely either as I do not smoke.  I am apparently a freak of medicine).   So my former boss — who had left a month before — called to check on me and I reported that the doctor said stress did not directly cause strokes.  He sighed, “Well the doctor never worked for our company.”  Since then, the new goal in life has been to strike a balance that brings me closer to la dolce vita and further away from sitting at  a desk thinking “21 years, 3 months, 6 hours, 8 minutes til I can retire.”  It would probably help to change my line of work,  but that is a subject for another day’s ramble..

See, I told you I ramble on and on.  Off to the laundromat.  If anyone has stopped by, thanks and come again.

Here I go…

Thanks to the, um,  subtle encouragement of a terrific blogger named Joe I am starting my own blog.   I have no idea what direction this will take but imagine it will be part journal, part general commentary on whatever strikes my fancy or a nerve.  Essentially a little rambling here, a little musing there.

I am a woman whose 30’s are in her rear view mirror but whose 50s are way ahead over the horizon.  And will hopefully stay there.  40 was bad.  50 is incomprehensible.   I have hazel eyes.  I am currently not a member of the working world but will hopefully be joining that club soon.  Not working is great.  Not having a steady paycheck — not so much.  I have a charming boyfriend who is slightly younger than me and who may or may not make an appearance here.  He probably will because I am besotted and can’t help talking about him.  Things like blogs unnerve him.  I am the proud aunt of a 5 year old nephew who delights and horrifies me in equal measure.  I don’t have children and some days I am happy about that and some days really sad about that.   It comes and goes.   I am writing a novel I fear will never be done and the muse has been bitchy lately — not showing up and leaving me to stare at a blank screen.  I am hoping that blogging will help me there as well.  I am a rabid baseball fan and my hair is on fire over this steroids mess.  I sometimes get goofy when old 80s songs come on the radio — they remind my of the halcyon days of my younger years.  I don’t know how my college days can be 20+ years gone and yet are so vivid in my mind.  But don’t ask me what I had for lunch today — I can’t remember.  I guess that is all about me for now.   If I spill it all, no one will come back.  If they show up in the first place….

This blog will not be very techy with pictures and song links and other links because at the present time I have no real idea how to do that.  But I may get there some day.  I don’t know how frequently I will blog.  I don’t know if anyone will show up.   All I know is that I am here today and will likely come back tomorrow!