Jane Doe, Alive and Well

From Monday’s blog:
If you want something to change, you have to do something different.

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.”

The only reason why I bring up this inconvenient truth (wait…is that a copyrighted phrase?) is that so many of us live as though we’ve forgotten it.
It can take a long time, with a lot of frustration, for us to finally believe it.
For example, we want to lose weight, but we don’t want to change what we eat, how we eat, where we eat or why we eat.
We want to have a better relationship with our spouse or children, but we won’t change how we communicate, how we act or how we spend our time.
We want to be healthier people, but we won’t forgive someone who has hurt us, read a life-skills book or go to counseling (which, I don’t blame you, because it can be hard to find a good counselor).
No wonder so many of us live mixed up, insane lives.

If I want something to be different in my life, my family, my community, my nation…I have to do something different. Not my spouse, or my kids, or my boss…me.
Usually we think about how other people need to change. It may be true that they need to change. But don’t try to make them. You’re wasting your energy. You can only change yourself.

Why are humans so hardwired to resist change? There must be some evolutionary reason for it. Hmmm. Self-preservation, maybe? The one who ventures off alone meets danger without the protection of the pack. Fear of the unknown, maybe?

Change is not easy, darn it. Change – even a small change – takes some effort. Mental, emotional, physical, spiritual EFFORT. Big changes take A LOT of effort. It's work!

I’m not talking about rearranging. Rearranging is not change. It’s just taking junk from one pile and moving it to a different pile (and sometimes hiding it under the next pile). Rearranging happens a lot….in relationships, in our personal lives, in government.
I’m talking about alterations; where you tuck, pin, cut, and sew to alter the shape and fit of the garment, and you can’t make it go back to what it was before.

So are we all just lazy when we won’t make the effort to change?
Maybe some of us are lazy, but I think most of us are just impatient and…what’s the right word….misguided, maybe.

We want change to happen quickly, but it is a sloooowwww process. It’s an undertaking that includes failure and setbacks. And for most of us, floundering through a lot of failure is not on our list of favorite activities, right? Not on my list, anyway.

We’re misguided in that we spend our mental, emotional, physical and spiritual energy on things that don’t matter. After the expenditures of daily living and work - I mean, most of us are busy, busy people - we take the remaining energy that we do have and instead of spending it on relationships, introspection, health and growth we spend it on.....Television. Gossip. Movies. Porn. Video games. Bars. Celebrity magazines. Shopping. You know, any of those things that suck energy out of you, but don’t give you anything in return. They may provide immediate satisfaction, but what’s the long term gain?

What an uplifting blog. According to the quote above most of us act insane, and now I’ve made us depressed as well!
I think it’s time for a change.

Posted by Tina at 12:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Well, I hope I’ve waited long enough for each of you to blow your new year’s resolutions before I blog on the topic.

It’s not that I wish you bad. In fact, I do wish you success. That is, if you do want to succeed. I’m leaving open the possibility that you don’t want to succeed; the passive-aggressive and self-sabotagers among us fall into that category.

I know from cruel, personal experience that people are more open to listen to advice when they’ve blown it. When you feel like you’ve got it all together, you don’t need to listen to anyone else, because you are just cruuuuising, dig?

But if your goal is to maintain your New Year’s resolution, then there’s just one little truth I’d like to ever-so-humbly remind you of.

If you want something to change, you have to do something different.

Ponder that for a minute. It’s so simple it’s easy to move over it rather quickly and not let the profound truth sink in.

It’s more poetically phrased in one of my favorite quotes:

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.”***

This does apply to many, many areas in our lives – not all, but many.

You cannot keep on doing the same thing and expect things to change.

Profound. At least to my simple brain.

*** I diligently searched for the author of that statement so I could give credit to him/her, but found opposing viewpoints….most people attribute it to Albert Einstein, but another large group attributes it to Rita Mae Brown. Since I get this info off the internet, they could both be wrong. But I did try.

Posted by Tina at 01:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Well, if you’re the kind of person who needs to have happy endings you may not want to read the rest of this blog. Here, we’ll end it for you now: And the homely piano found a new home, and they all lived happily ever after. The End.

Still there?
So, you like unhappy endings. You know, you can get help for that.
Well, read on.

We bought the unlovely piano for no more than a song.
I did not go to the loading and transportation party. I don’t know a thing about moving a piano, but I do know a lot about giving unsolicited and unneeded advice, because I do it all the time. I must be getting wiser, because I stayed home in the kitchen, where I do know a thing or two about cooking a meal to thank wonderful friends who help you move pianos (thanks wonderful friends, you know who you are).

When the unsightly piano was finally safely in the living room, (the only gouges in the floor being the ones I made myself moving the couch) I said to my husband, “You know, it’s not nearly as ugly as I thought!”
“It’s hideous.” He replied.

I prefer to think of it as marred. Or worn. Or a piano of Character. It has Presence.
My friends were kind (and I know them to be honest people, too).

“It’s just blemished.” one friend says.
“It sounds better than my piano.” says another.
The highest compliment came from one of my girlfriends who said it’s a “French country” style.
“Some people would pay a lot of money to have that in their home.” she says (and she has good style; you should see her house).
So now it’s gone from ugly, to unlovely, to marred, to blemished, to French country. I guess that’s how things grow on you.

So where’s the unhappy ending?

Not more than two days after we got this piano, we were at music class and the teacher asked me and two friends, “Hey, do you know anyone who needs a piano? I got a call from some former clients and they have a piano that their kids are done with. It sounds like they just want to give it away. It’s a Chickering. It’s a really nice piano.”

I could not believe it. A piano with a pedigree. Free.

Four days after we got the piano, I got a call from my husband. He was at work.
“You’re not going to believe what just happened.” he says.
He and some colleagues were talking about how torn up East 8th avenue currently is. He told them, “Try driving on it with a piano on your truck”.
His colleague turns to him and says “You didn’t just buy a piano, did you? Because we have two of them we want to get rid of. We bought a really nice one for my daughter, and then later her grandpa bought her a really, really expensive one. I think it’s like a baby grand or something like that. But she’s moved out and we don’t play piano and they’re just taking up space in our house. We’ll just give you one of them.”

He had to laugh. We both did.

For months we could not find a piano. But within days of buying one, we are offered not one, not two, but three pianos. Three. Free. Pianos.
Well, one thing I’ve learned from the piano adventure is that you’ve got to ask for what you need. If we had spoken up and asked around, maybe we would have found these pianos before we found the French Country piano.

Life just has a sense of humor, doesn’t it?
And you’ve got to learn to just laugh along with it.

Jane Doe Recommends For Your Show Of Support Of The Youth Of Our Community:
The Monster Piano Concert (that’s “monster” as in large, not as in hideous)
Tomorrow, Saturday 26th at Laxson Auditorium
Two show: 2:30 and 7:00.
All tickets are general seating and are $12.00 ($14.00 at the door) They still have seats available. You can get them at Chico State Box Office (open till 6:00 tonight), or call 898-6333.
More than 150 youth play in various sizes of groups on 14 digital pianos. What a blast! For the full story, go to:

www.chicoer.com/entertainment/ci_8056254

Posted by Tina at 11:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

It took us forever to decide about the pianos.
Before I took my husband over to see them I prepped him. I didn’t want him to be fooled by their appearances.
It didn’t help.
You should have seen his face light up the first time he saw the gorgeous piano. He knows, admires, and respects wood. I mean, how many people do you know who have read “Chainsaw Lumbermaking”? My point exactly.
He went right over to it.
“Walnut.” He said. “Wow.”
I think he was wolf-whistling in his head. Not to make excuses for him, but he can’t help himself. His dad and granddad are accomplished craftsmen. It’s in his blood

I was prepared for this.

“Look at this.” I pointed out on the ugly piano. “It has its original ivory keys!”
He managed to tear his eyes away for a quick sweep over the ugly piano. You could see the disdain.
“And wooden sharp keys!” I said.
He was not impressed. He’s a wood worker, not a musician.

But even he could notice the difference when Sam sat down and again played for us. There was just no comparing the plain tone with the vibrant resonance of the ugly piano.

This decision generated a lot of discussion in our household.

One valid point was that we’d be looking at the piano all the time, but hearing it only some of the time. So we should get the one that’s pleasant to look at.

Another valid point was that we’d play the piano more and encourage the kids to practice if we enjoyed listening to it, versus just tolerating the sound. So we should get the one that’s pleasant to listen to.

Of course the best scenario would be to find one that was pleasant in sight and sound. But I was three months into this and had not seen anything that I afford in good conscience. These pianos seemed too good to pass up.

This decision with the piano made me think about inner and outer beauty in general. So much of our society is focused on outer beauty. I think of all the industries that profit from our desire to be considered outwardly attractive; skin care, cosmetics, fashion, fitness, books, magazines, and I’m sure there are many others. Not to mention the whole “faux” industries, where the whole point is to be cheap but not look it. They make a killing on our desire to portray a certain outward image.

Maybe it’s just me, but a rude, impatient, lying, ungrateful person is still ugly, even if covered in haute couture and gems. In fact, those traits can make you ugly, even if you have all the natural beauty in the world. Even eau de parfum can’t cover the foul smell of selfishness.

So after weeks of discussion, we bought the piano.

The ugly one – ugly on the outside, that is.

But lovely in all the right ways.

Posted by Tina at 10:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

You didn’t really think I’d finance a piano, did you?
After my rant last week about credit cards and money mismanagement?
Oh ye of little faith.
Of course not.

We walked out of the store piano-less.
But not hopeless, because my husband had seen an ad in the paper for not one, but two pianos for sale, and they were for sale for only three numbers to the left of the decimal point instead of four. I called the ad and set up a time to go see the pianos. Things were looking up.
I did have a bit of trepidation. I mean, I’ve never bought a piano before. How could I tell if it was a good piano or not? I didn’t want to be taken for a ride.
That particular concern was laid to rest as soon as I met Mr. and Mrs. Parker (not their real names, of course – it makes it so much more dramatic).
They’re a friendly, older couple. Mrs. Parker epitomizes the term “bustling about”, and bustle she did, as she led us out to “the shop”.
The shop that she was referring to was a converted garage, and one that was filled to bursting with years of accumulation. It had the normal things one might find in a garage, but it also had pianos. Lots of pianos. At least, lots of parts of pianos.
I felt a bit embarrassed, actually, to see all of these piano innards strung across walls, draping off of shelves and piled in corners. Aren’t those parts a bit, um, private? Seeing the keys and mallets without their protective wooden coverings felt like walking in one someone not fully clothed, or seeing a lady’s lingerie hanging from a shower rod. You want to look, but know you shouldn’t, because it’s personal.
The pieces looked naked and awkward and a bit indecent. The empty wooden cases looked hollow and forlorn.
Mrs. Parker didn’t seem to have any qualms about grabbing boxes and buckets of parts and handled them without any particular reverence, but I guess one does become casual after handling parts year upon year, piano after piano. That’s what I found out as she unceremoniously cleared a small space for us to move in on the intact pianos. She and Mr. Parker were piano tuners by trade; he being a member of the piano technician’s guild, and she proficient in repairing and rebuilding pianos.
Buying a piano from a piano tuner. This is a good sign. I think he probably knows a thing or two about pianos.
I found out quickly, though, that age had not been kind to Mr. Parker. With both sight and faculties quickly eroding, the vast amounts of knowledge that he held was only sporadically understandable. I had a feeling that many of these piano pieces would never play the parts he intended for them.
With a small space finally cleared for all of us to fit, Mrs. Parker directed my attention to the two pianos.
There they were, their outward differences plain to see, even in the dim light of the shop. Both tall uprights - not the short studios, but the full uprights. The one on the left was beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous wood, absolutely gorgeous, with an intricate carving on the front part of the casing.
The one on the right was a piece of work. And I don’t mean art work.
I couldn’t really tell what color the wood was. It had been painted – well, at one time it had been. Then it looked like it may have been repainted. And then maybe it was….crackled, I think they call it?
“It’s been antiqued.” Said Mrs. Parker. “Remember when that was style for everything?”
Ah, yes. Antiqued. Well, we’ll call it the ugly piano. And that’s being kind.
Maybe out of pity, or maybe because the gorgeous piano was just too gorgeous to touch, I went to the ugly piano first and a bit hesitantly, played a chord.
That something so beautiful could come from something so ugly – well, I was astonished. So I played another, and another.
The piano didn’t just play notes, it swelled them. The sound came up and out and around you and in you and hung in the air like a thick, rich, engulfing tapestry of sound. It sounded complex and deep. It sounded like a perfectly tuned baby grand.
“This was our personal piano.” Said Mrs. Parker. “It’s old, I don’t know how old. It’s been completely rebuilt on the inside. He finished it a couple of years ago. But then we got that smaller spinete inside because we didn’t have as much space.”
Maybe I still looked a little stunned, because she said “Here, do you want Sam to play something for you? Sam, play something.”
Sam groped his way to the stool, situated his hands and asked in a moment of clarity,
“Now, what would you like?”
And without waiting for a reply his hands started flying up and down the keys. My daughter started bopping around as a ragtime tune filled the old garage. He finished with a little trill on the high notes, and I applauded at the end.
“Now this other one” said Mrs. Parker. “We rebuilt this one, too.”
We turned to the gorgeous piano, and I held my breath as I lifted the lid. If they rebuilt the other one, and it sounds so beautiful, then….
Plink.
Plunk.
I know technically that note is a middle C, but…
Plink, plink, plink.
No change in my pulse, no metaphysical transport to Carnegie Hall or a 1920’s tavern. Just stuck in an old garage, with one gorgeous, but ugly piano, and one ugly, but beautiful piano.

Posted by Tina at 11:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I really like music; all kinds of music.
I even played music when I was younger. In fact, I was the “first chair” flute player in my junior high (did I mention I went to a really small junior high?), until that rich new girl who took private lessons came to our school and beat me in tryouts. I’m pretty sure much of my emotional problems stem from the humiliation of having to move from the first to the second seat in front of all my peers. I should sue my band teacher. Except he’s probably no longer living because he smoked a lot, and even if he is alive, I can’t, uh, remember his name. (The trauma has blocked it out). Besides, then I discovered sports and never gave music a second thought. So you can just have that first chair because I don’t want it anyway.
But I digress.
So our kids have been pretty much saturated with music their whole lives. We were some of those crazy parents…okay, well, I was one of those crazy parents that played classical music to the babies in utero. With each pregnancy, out went the U2, the Credence and George Strait, and in came Mozart, Beethoven and Bach (don’t worry; the kids were reintroduced to the first three at the appropriate age).
They’ve been in music classes** since age 6 months – wow, does time fly or what? - and one will be starting piano. Which is why (you guessed it) I really wanted a piano.
You can use a keyboard instead of a piano to practice on, and that’s what a lot of families do. But I had my heart set on a real piano. There’s such a difference in sound and the ways the keys feel.
My foster family had a piano. I remember my brother practicing his lessons on it, and my mom playing Christmas carols on it. I have some emotion wrapped around a piano.

There’s just a couple of difficulties with the whole piano lust, the first being that pianos are really expensive, the second being that pianos cost a whole bunch of money, and the third being that you have to pay a lot in order to get a piano. Plus, I didn’t really have a place to put a piano, seeing that our home is a bit, oh, shall we say…square foot challenged. But we like our home a lot, so we just refer to it as “cozy”.
So we went to a piano store that sells new and used / refurbished pianos, just to look around.

Just in case you didn’t know, pianos are really expensive. Like, four numbers kind of expensive, at least. I’m talking four numbers before the decimal point, even the used pianos. Some were breathtakingly beautiful, in design and in sound. But I saw my hopes of getting a piano fading rapidly, because I work pretty closely with our household budget and as far as I could recall, there was not a line item in there labeled “piano”.
The owner was a really knowledgeable guy, and helpful, too. We talked about what a gift it is to children to expose them to music, and to develop the skill of playing piano, and all the benefits they reap from it - benefits that last a lifetime. Buying a piano is really an investment.
Then the store owner said the magic words.
“I have a finance program.”
The tripod of American money management, right? “I see, I want, I finance”.
So, did we or didn’t we?
I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow. I have to go play our piano.

**the music classes I'm referring to is Musikgarten and if you're interested check out www.musikgarten.org
For the local studio, www.musikgarten.org/musictogrowchico . It's a really fabulous and comprehensive music program.

Posted by Tina at 11:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The sun came up today.
Yes, I know that you, astute person that you are, already noticed this, and I’m sure we all hope that it continues to do so for many more lifetimes.
But this daily incident hit me afresh today, because I had a meeting before daybreak.
I can’t remember the last time I was up, out of the house and at a meeting before dawn. Well, I guess I can remember if I tried, but the memories are kind of foggy. I think children tend to do that to your brain.
I know there was a season in my life when I had to be at work before the sun was up (most day-shift nurses start at 7:00 a.m. sharp) and my day was ruled by the almost-universally- accepted numerical clock. I do remember days where I went to work in the dark and worked so many hours that I came home in the dark, and on those days I wondered, “Did the sun come up today?” I wouldn’t have been able to tell you for sure.
But in my current season of life my day is not quite as structured. It is ruled by things like who has a play date, a field trip or a doctor’s appointment, and who needs a snack, a nap or extra time with mommy.
Different seasons of life entirely. Not better, not worse, just different.
As I stepped out into the light after my meeting this morning I had to pause and blink. The change was so sudden it took my brain a minute to catch up. This was so different from my normal morning routine that I couldn’t operate on auto-pilot, like the majority of us do in the morning. I had to pay attention.
It was a nice change.
Maybe it was because I hadn’t seen this part of the day in so long, but everything looked so beautiful to me. The cloudless blue sky seemed to wrap itself in and around our town. The surrounding mountains were not just brown, but swirled with hues of purple and red. The wisps of steam rising up from the fence posts made the neighborhoods seem warm and inviting, like a fire does on a cold day. The weeds in Lindo channel sparkled as the sun hit their slightly frosted edges.
Yep. Weeds. Sparkling.
It was that kind of day. Did you notice?
If not, tune in tomorrow. Same time, same channel.

Jane Doe Thanks…
...the nice cashier at ToysRUs who waited very patiently while my son counted, and recounted, and dropped, and counted again his money to pay for more darts for his Nerf gun. She showed nary a hint of irritation at his slow pace. I think she picked up pretty quickly that he was trying to do this independently, so she directed her questions to him instead of me and thanked him just like if he was an adult. I wish all adults would treat children as well as she did. All parents who are trying to guide their children toward independence join me in thanking and congratulating Ms. Anonymous cashier!

Posted by Tina at 07:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I’ve determined the truth about my bank’s love for me.
It’s conditional.
It requires a minimum balance and a touch-tone phone or a computer.
I discovered this while researching (no offense to real researchers of any kind) my bank’s elimination of several service fees (see yesterday’s blog). I looked all over the bank’s web page to find out if the other service fees that were being “updated” were increasing or decreasing.
In many cases, the web site doesn’t say what the fees are. It just says “a fee will apply for this transaction. Please call ….” So I called, and got the information I wanted.
Well, I was so fascinated by the amount of information that could be found on its home page that I just kept reading. And I found the following little piece of information:

“A $2 fee may apply when you call 1-800-xx-xxxx and choose to speak with a Phone Banker when your request could have been handled by our automated service. We waive the fee if you maintain a minimum daily balance in your consumer checking account. Please refer to your Fee and Information Schedule for details.”

This doesn’t seem fair to me.
I thought about one of my moms, for example (and remember, I have three – five if you count the hyphenated ones – so her identity is fairly concealed). She has very little expendable income, certainly not enough to maintain a minimum balance as mentioned above. She has no internet skills. Automated phone systems confuse her. She never learned to drive, so it’s a big hassle for her to find a ride to the bank, and if she takes the bus it will cost her money. But she’s a decent person who tries to do the right thing.
If she had a question about her account or her bank statement, what would she do? She would call the number on her statement and try to talk with a real live person.
And she could get charged for that?
There are a lot of people like her. A recent immigrant might have the same issues. So might your average everyday American poor person with enough money to have a bank account but not enough to buy a computer.
It’s all perfectly legal – I mean, this policy is disclosed in black and white, though in a pamphlet with print too small for my mom to read.
It seems like it should be the opposite. If you have a nice balance in your account and we can assume you speak English (or Spanish, if you’re in California) and have access to a computer and actually know how to use the internet or navigate an automated phone system and THEN you choose to use a phone banker….well, we’re going to charge you. But if you can’t do any of the above and we can see by your balance that money is already tight, well, we’ll just be happy to help you deal with your money (and therefore with your life) in any way we can.
Free of charge.

Posted by Tina at 04:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I think my bank got jealous.
They must have heard that my credit card declared me a “valuable customer” (you did read my other post, right? Riiiiiight.). They wanted to assure me that they loved me, too.
With the last statement they sent me, they included a separate note with “Important Account Information And SOME GOOD NEWS!” They were pleased to tell me that numerous Service Fees were being eliminated.
Excellent. I’m all for the elimination of fees.
Four fees are being eliminated. I’m particularly excited about the elimination of the Domestic Draft fee, because I’m pretty sure it means that somehow the bank will be buying me a cold Pale Ale at Sierra Nevada.
See, that proves they love me more than the credit card. The credit card never mentioned buying me anything. And even though I rarely drink alcohol (I’m a lightweight) I appreciate the gesture. Actions speak louder than words, I always say. They didn’t mention how to actually get my domestic draft, but maybe those directions will come in a later statement.
I went on to read in my SOME GOOD NEWS, in smaller print at the bottom, that “In addition, changes to the following Service Fees” would also be taking place. It listed a change in the ATM fee if you use a different bank’s ATM.
The fee increases by fifty cents. Per transaction.
If you bother to turn the card over, you will see a list of other service fees that are being “updated” according to the representative I spoke to on the phone, a sweet person named Meagen (sorry if I misspelled your name, Megan. Meghan? I’ll never know.)
Yes, I really did call. I just couldn’t resist.
Some fees decreased, like International Wire Transfers (down by two dollars).
Some fees increased, like a Stop Payment Fee (up by four dollars).
Some fees stayed the same, like the Item Returned Unpaid Fee ($7.00). But they listed it anyway.
Calling the bank and looking into this was a fascinating exercise in what I think of as Information Manipulation. There’s probably a real technical name for it; if you know what it is, write and tell me. (I already know its called bull----, so don’t write and tell me that one.)
I.M. fascinates me. There’s so much of it around us. We’re the proverbial fish, swimming it in all the time, and generally unaware of it. I.M. goes hand in hand with E.M. – emotional massage- which is equally fascinating (and a topic for some other time).
Information Manipulation takes info that is actually negative information, but packages it so that it seems positive and makes the person or company look good. I would bet that the bank is now making more in service fees than they were before, but that’s not how they presented it. They conveniently forgot to mention the host of new fees they can charge for things like Quicken downloads or Bill Pay – and those fees are pretty hefty and occur monthly instead of sporadically. I mean, how many times does one make an international wire transfer?
I don’t begrudge them for making more money. That’s the nature of business, and every business should do the best it can. Besides, they probably need more money to pay their I.M.’ers. People who I.M. well are brilliant and probably cost a fortune, too.
At least I know my bank tells the truth. It is SOME GOOD NEWS!
For them, anyway.

Posted by Tina at 12:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I received some really great Christmas presents this year.
They were unexpected, thoughtful, personal…things that make a gift special, that make you feel valued and loved. And even though December is long gone, I just received another unexpected gift. From my credit card, of all people.
I feel a bit badly about this, because I didn’t even send them a card. Honestly, I didn’t know that I meant so much to them. But I must, because they wrote me a “message” on my bill – a far more intimate form of communication than, say, an edict or an announcement.
They just wanted me to know that I was a valued customer. Which is quite touching, actually, because they don’t make much money off of me anymore. I’m one of those annoying people who try really hard to not carry a balance, so I don’t accrue finance charges. We’re called “deadbeats” in the credit industry. I’m pretty sure it’s a term of endearment.
I haven’t always been a deadbeat. I can remember quite clearly my starving student days, the panicky feeling when the credit card bill (or any bill, for that matter) arrived in the mail, wondering how close I was to being maxed out, wondering how I was going to buy food for the next month. I remember years using those credit cards to make ends meet and paying only the minimum payment as I struggled to get on my feet and figure out how to do this thing called life. I remember years of having finances only loosely under control, getting drawn into sign-up schemes and carelessly missing payments.
It’s a costly lesson and one I hope to not ever repeat.
Anyway, they value me so much that they are giving me a gift!
I can skip this month’s payment!
I think that shows how sensitive they really are. They know that the common person probably went a little overboard during the holiday season, and is now maybe a little strapped, and could use a gift like this. See, they really are for the common folk. And here I thought that credit companies were just prowling rabid dogs, frothing at the mouth with an insatiable appetite to prey on the weak, desperate and financially illiterate for the sole purpose of making money and lots of it. Guess I was wrong (again).
One little thing, though. Finance charges will continue to accrue.
Huh.
Guess I missed that redefinition of the word "gift", because I thought a gift was when you gave something to someone without getting anything yourself other than warm fuzzy feelings.
They must mean they want to have a gift exchange, a somewhat different holiday tradition…I give you a little something, you give me a little something.
The all-knowing internet tells me that the average American spent $859.00 on gifts this last year. Add in extra food and drink for entertaining, the new strand of Christmas lights, wrapping paper, cards and stamps and let’s just call it an even grand to make it easier, because I’m not very good at math. So my very rudimentary calculations tell me that with my APR of 11.25% I would pay them about $10.00 for my gift.
Let’s bring this example more in line with reality.
Let’s put the average American who has a credit card with a balance of $5,000 (somewhere in between the $2,000 - $8,000 that I read about) with an APR of 17.59. If she chooses to skip a payment, then she gets to pay $75.00 for the “gift”. If she makes a $250.00 payment to pay down her balance, she’ll pay $70.00. So if she takes advantage of the gift, and skips a payment, the credit card company makes $5.00 extra dollars off of her.
Not bad if you multiply it by oh, let’s say a million people.

So when is a gift not really a gift?
When it’s from your credit card company. Sure, go ahead, miss a payment -but we get to calculate your finance charges on the higher balance you’ll have for the next 31 days. And make 5 million dollars from our generosity.
Well, at least my bank really loves me. I’ll tell you about that tomorrow.

Posted by Tina at 10:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

One thing I was lacking during the storm was a radio.
We actually have a hand-crank radio, which is an item on the lists for making a disaster kit, so bonus points for me.
The radio is in our camping supplies, which is in one of the dozen blue plastic tubs I keep things in, which is on our back porch (packed and ready to be thrown in the jeep should we decide at the last minute to go camping).
On this particular day said tub was covered by a table, another picnic table, 8 plastic chairs, 4 bikes, 3 tubs of kid’s toys, 2 razor scooters, one baby jogger, our barbecue and a partridge in a pear tree – no, just kidding about the last one.
Each of these items was strategically positioned on the porch, taking into account its weight and wind surface area…oh, who am I kidding? They were all crammed up against the house to prevent things from getting blown around (a futile attempt, I might add).
So for all practical purposes I was without a radio, which really irritated me because I’m a bit of a news junkie.
So today I’m putting in a cd for my son to listen to while doing math (classical music, of course!) and I stop, cd in mid-air, stunned, just stunned.
Because I’m looking at a radio.
Right in front of me.
I probably walked past it fifty times during the storm and while it was dim in the house, it wasn’t that dark. I could have had exactly what I needed. It was there the whole time. But I had already decided in my mind that I didn’t have a radio, and I think that kept me from seeing that I did have a radio.
Two, actually, because we have another cd player elsewhere in the house. And enough batteries to run both of them if I wanted to.
So…I wonder how many times in life do I have exactly what I need for whatever situation I’m facing, right in front of me, and I keep walking by it, refusing to see it – or unable to see it because of a preconceived idea in my mind. And that preconceived idea might not even be based on the truth.
I just read this blog to my husband who says “well, you also could have just gone and sat in the car.”
Make that three radios.

P.S. Don’t look for your Jane the next couple of days. She takes the weekends off.

Jane Doe Recommends…For Your Weekend Entertainment and Cultural Enrichment and Show of Community Support (now that’s a package deal!)

Chico Art Center’s Annual Members Exhibition (no, not that kind of exhibition!)
450 Orange Street, Suite 6
That’s Chestnut, Hazel, Ivy, Cherry, ORANGE Street – for those of you that are directionally challenged. Next to the Amtrak depot. And while you’re there you can get a drink (no, not that kind of drink!) at the Empire Coffeehouse, because the owner was really nice to my in-laws, my kids and me. And he makes a really good Mexican mocha with designs in the whipping cream. See, be nice. You never know what free press you’ll get from it.
***disclaimer*** My very talented, artistic husband has a piece in this show, so yes, I am shamelessly promoting it. And no, his piece is not for sale.
This show runs through February 5th.
Cost:free, but there’s a donation box at the door, so throw in a couple of dollars.
Open 12 – 4 daily.
891-5945
www.chicoartcenter.com

AND
Avenue 9 Gallery Chico Icons Show
Location: think hard about this one…read the name…yes, you got it. On 9th Avenue behind that, uh, other coffee place…I forget the name.
Open Wednesday – Sunday 12 – 4
879-1821
This is the last couple of days for the show – It closes on Sunday, I believe. This year’s theme is “Chico Trees” and there are some beautiful pieces of work.
www.avenue9gallery.com

Posted by Tina at 01:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The thing about storms is that most are predictable.
There are signs to watch for. Some are pretty obvious that even a layperson can recognize; dark clouds, temperature changes, things like that. Some take more expert people to recognize them and they relay the message to us.
But our capacity to ignore the signs is impressive.
And our ability to discredit the experts when they are telling us things we don’t want to hear is amazing.
I knew the storm was coming but…..I didn’t take it totally seriously. Not enough to think past a couple of hours without power, or a day at the most, which would be no problem. So it’s nobody’s fault but mine that I had to throw out a lot of food. I could have chosen to be more prepared.
In a lot of cases, we make our own storms in life. We spend more than we make, we buy homes and cars we can’t afford….then when we are late on payments and our credit rating goes down and then our marriage starts to have problems because of financial stress….well, the signs were there with the first skipped payment that something was wrong.
A battered person wonders how on earth the relationship became abusive, and sees only in hindsight the obsessive questioning, anger and intimidation, slow isolation and other signs of an abuser were there early on.
We make poor decisions about money, time, food, relationships, driving habits, working habits, personal habits….you name it. When we reap the consequences of our actions (as we always will, though sometimes delayed), we often refuse to take responsibility for our choices. It’s so much easier to blame someone or something else. You see it in society, and you see it in individual lives. People love to shift the blame.
Yuck. Just like the aftermath of a storm….what a mess.
But, just like cleaning up after a storm starts with picking up the first branch, since most of our problems are our own doing, we can make choices to fix them. It’s hard work (like removing a tree from the top of your house). It’s agonizingly slow (ask the people who are still without power). You’ve got to get help sometimes (or even call in the pros).
Then – and this is the most difficult part – you gotta remember what you learned, so you don’t make the same mistake over and over.
Note to self: next time, don’t forget the ice.

Posted by Tina at 09:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Whew! I’d say this storm had our full attention.
Everybody okay?
Several of our friends still don’t have power, which makes me feel like a real wimp for being the least bit impatient the day and a half ours was out. I’ve learned that I wouldn’t have made a good pioneer. Another day stuck inside with two small children and dim light, and well, I have to admit I was a little on edge. I guess we all were. Especially those who couldn’t get their daily caffeine supply. You really don’t want to get in their way.
If I could be guaranteed there would be no loss of life or damage to property, I’d wish for the storm to hang around a bit longer. A storm can generate some positive consequences, and I don’t mean just raising the water level in Lake Oroville or the free pruning our oak tree received. Dealing with a storm shakes us out of our daily stupors. It magnifies the things that are really important and reminds us that sometimes we’ve lost sight of what those important things are (a note to all of you waiting at Dutch Brothers – coffee does not make the list). It reminds us to be grateful for the luxuries we live with (like heat and hot water) and the conveniences we have (like refrigerators). And it reminds us not to take our utility service for granted – it could be run by the mafia, like the garbage companies in Naples*.
Of course, I only want the storm when it best fits into my schedule; the shelves stocked with non-perishable food, an extra non-electric can opener in my kitchen, the laundry caught up and boots that actually fit the rapidly growing feet of my son**. And enough ice to keep my freezer cold, which is where I blew it with this storm. But what a great opportunity to deep clean my freezer. Every ten years whether it needs it or not, I always say.
That’s the thing about storms, though. They are just so darn uncontrollable. And inconvenient. And rather messy. You can be aware of them, you can prepare for them, but you can’t control them. You can only control how you respond to them.
What a great analogy for life. I’ll have to write about that tomorrow – provided our electricity stays on.

Jane Doe Thanks: each and every PG & E worker trying to get the power restored, especially the crews who came from out of state to help us out, and the couple of crews who recently dragged into the Italian Cottage looking tired, wet and hungry. We really do appreciate the work you are doing. If you know someone who works for PG & E, e-mail them this Jane Doe Thank You in case no one else remembers to tell it to them! They are the recipients of the very first Jane Doe Thanks award. What an honor, to be sure.

Links for this article:
**If you need info on what to put in a disaster supply kit try:
http://www.fema.gov
or for those of you who don’t trust the government, try here:
http://www.redcross.org
You have to maneuver through the site but can eventual find really detailed lists of what to put in a disaster supply kit. They even remembered your pets – something I had completely overlooked. I’d be glad to post any less-complicated links with the same kind of information; just e-mail them to me so I can check them out.
*If you don’t believe me about the Naples trash story, check out this link here:
http://uk.reuters.com/article/environmentNews/idUKL0367814920080103

Posted by Tina at 09:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)