A few weeks ago, my hubby asked me while giving me a bear hug,
"What's your favorite country?"
"What?" I had no idea where this was going.
"What's your favorite country?"
Fearing he was up to some plotting that could involve us moving far, far away, I replied, "Um, not to sound overly patriotic, this one."
Yes, I am an unpatriotic American who is ashamed to live in a country where its people vote in a monkey as its leader with Satan as his henchman...twice.
Let's just say we don't talk politics with my somewhat conservative family because it nearly ruined Christmas in 2004.
My husband asked me again. "What's your favorite country?"
"Uh, England, Japan, and France."
"You need to pick one."
"Why?"
"Just pick one."
"Fine!" Jumping to conclusions and assuming that he's plotting a vacation, and jumping to the conclusion it may be for our fifth wedding anniversary in May, I said,
"France. Paris, mostly."
"Would you like to go to France for our anniversary?"
Bingo. I may not be able to surprise the man with anything (he has an uncanny way of sniffing it out. Plus, since he works at the bank, it's like I've got the all-seeing eye of Mordor looking over our daily transactions), but I can at least jump to correct conclusions about where he's going in a vague conversation.
"Absolutely!!" Good thing I already had a Paris travel book from when we thought we'd be able to afford to go after my college gradutation (as you may have deducted from the conversation earlier, we obviously couldn't afford to go).
He then tried to buy us Rosetta Stone to refresh on our French. While he took French all four years in high school, I took two years in high school, and can only remember phrases like "omelette du fromage" (omlet with cheese--big surprise, huh?), and suddenly remembered more French in college during my Spanish quiz (it did not help). I ended up getting a BS (ha!) instead of a BA (again, ha!) due to wacky Oregon graduation requirements. So I ended up with a BS in Communications and Theatre. Stop laughing. It is so me.
He told me that it was way beyond our foreign language refresher budget (which I already knew), but the thought that he tried to buy it for us was sweet.
A week later we began to price out the trip. Did I ever mention that international flights are expensive as hell?
As I was on Orbitz.com fearing the worst, I asked my husband: "Can we realistically afford this?" Because we are dreamers. We think it'll work, price it out, have good intentions, but intentions only go so far.
"Yes, but we'll have to cut way back to afford it."
Lame.
Of course, now that I told people that we're planning to go, Prideful Holly now has to find a way to make it happen.
I have decided to start out small.
Starting with Starbucks.
Getting coffee in the morning started out as a treat--like a once a week/twice a week if your ass was dragging kind of thing. Then Holly got promoted, had to start working longer hours, but the higher pay justified going there three times a week.
It eventually evolved into a daily monster; where if I didn't get my caffeinated goodness by 10am, I would have a splitting migraine painful enough to answer the phone as Holly Hulk and You'd Better Make it Quick Because the Lights Are Burning My Brain.
Of course, if I got coffee that day, so did my husband. We had to make it fair.
Add it up- coffee at about $3 a day, per person (two people total), for each workday (excluding vacations and holidays), equals...
Wow.
That's almost as bad as a pack-a-day smoking habit.
Thank God we don't do both, otherwise we would still be in good 'ol Gangbanger Land (aka Rockwood), hacking it up with the rest of the poor people who can't afford to buy a house.
So I woke up Monday morning with a Mission: Lay off the Starbucks. No matter how tired I feel. No matter if we actually do have some breathing room in our budget. No matter if I brough my lunch, and can totally justify it.
Plus, it's not like we have an espresso machine at home that is currently gathering that icky kitchen dust--oh, wait! We totally do! Thanks to my sister-in-law who used to work for Starbucks and generously provided us with the magical machine as a housewarming present.
Now I have no excuse.
No Starbucks Log
Day 1: I took the non-Starbucks route to work today (this means I don't drive past one). I wanted to get there before 8am, but it didn't happen (which isn't the best decision on a Monday). I did pretty good along the lines of no headaches, no eye-drooping drowsiness, and my perkiness level (that's personality, you perverts) was normally cheerful.
I think I can actually do this. And with the money I'm not spending on coffee each day, I can save that amount, and we'll actually be able to afford to go to Paris in May and I won't be a big, fat, liar who says she's going somewhere and then doesn't.
If I can kick morning caffeine, I can kick my habit of not exercising! I will be able to become Nintendo's poster woman (poster child just sounds wrong) for Wii Fit (see "Having a Fit for Wii Fit"), and Lilly Pullitzer will send me her fabulous clothes to cover my tiny butt (okay, I am currently a size six, but I used to be a zero. ZERO!).
And once I kick the caffeine habit, I will be able to conjure my energy naturally instead of using a puppy upper (caffeine) as a crutch. I can accomplish anything!!
Day Two: "Yes, I'd like a grande nonfat black and white mocha with one pump of each, with no whip..."
What?
So I have an uber-complicated coffee order. Like you'd expect any less from me.
We Moved!!!
12 years ago
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