Off to a great start

I'm proctoring a test this morning for my part time job, which means I have a lot of quiet down time while the kids are working. Well, this morning I woke up early enough to get a little organized and prepared and take my time going out the door (what? no mad sprint? my oversleeping skills are down apparently). So I filled my 24 ounce water bottle thinking, more wawter will make me feel better and be healthier and cheaper than skipping next door for a cup of coffee halfway through the test.

Then I put on my brand new flip flops (a gift from my MIL), walked out my front door and down the stairs to my car, and realized I'd forgotten it.

But since I was early, I had time to go back in the building and get it. I went back up the stairs, observing as I did that it was starting to rain and I should leave soon so I could drive slowly. Hurriedly, I ran in and grabbed the bottle, locking the door again behind myself.

So there I was, running late, water bottle in hand, brand new flip flops on my feet, the rain increasing in intensity, and of course it happened. I stepped to fast, my shoes were too slick, the stairs were slippery with rain, and I slipped.

My left foot flew out from under me, and I grabbed the railing with both hands before tumbling all down the stairs, but not before smacking the back of my arm against the top of the railing. And of course, in my efforts to save my bones, I let go of the water bottle and it fell over the railing, down two flights of stairs to the concrete below, spilling water on the already wet ground and cracking the lid in half.

As it turns out, I was running too late to grab coffee on my way here, and though I'm now wet and cold and I'm short one water bottle, my hip and ankle are sore and my arm is bruising, and the near biblical rains are keeping me from going next door and soothing myself with that cup of coffee.

So ... I guess as far as curbing my spending goes, the water bottle did the trick.

Some much deserved Link Love

When checking my stats, I realized that the following really amazing bloggers have my blogrolled! I had assumed no one was actually reading most of the nonsense I wrote, and it is an overwhelming compliment to be linked by such fun and talented writers as these:

Fabulously Broke in the City has an amazingly prolific blog on everything from fedoras to portfolio diversification strategies. She will inform and entertain you for hours.

Piggy Bank Raid is the pfblog of a freelance writer trying to get control of her spending. If you get a chance, go read her blog and then tell her why she should keep blogging!

Messing Around is the blog of Robert and Erin, a Christian military family, seeking simplicity for its spiritual rewards. Much of their blog is heartwarming and inspirational.


Please, if you have my blogrolled and I didn't mention you here, it means I don't know!! Leave me a comment so I can give you some link love too!

Why I shouldn't buy a hybrid car (but want one anyway)

I want a hybrid car. If you’ve been reading my blog, then you know by now that I have a heart of green, and that environmentalism is important to me. The more I read about hybrid cars, the more I love them and the more I really want to get them. As of my last research, the Hybrid Civic gets 50 mpg. I love the idea of helping the environment, of using my purchasing power as a vote for environmentalism, of reducing reliance on oil from hostile nations, of saving money as gas prices go through the roof. I love it, love it, love it, and I read about regularly and hungrily everything I can find about them.

So why shouldn’t I get one, at least right now?

1. They cost too much. At 22,000 for a Hybrid Civic, versus about 16,000 for a standard two door Civic, the price is right now prohibitive. As a personal finance decision, it simply is not a good one, and with debt and struggling, I’m not in a position to spend that much to make a statement. To make the price up in gas savings, at $3 per gallon, I would need to save 2000 gallons worth of gas, which I probably wouldn’t any time soon because

2. I already own a fuel efficient Civic Coupe. I generally get upwards of 30 miles per gallon, and have managed 40 when driving on highways. By my calculations, I would have to drive 150,000 miles on my car to get my money back. While I can probably get that out of my car (although maybe not), that would really only matter if I was buying a brand a hybrid instead of my current car, rather than as a replacement.

3. In addition to being a bad decision financially, replacing a two year old car is probably also not a smart environmental decision. Because the differences in mileage are so limited, it doesn’t seem likely that the environmental benefits of a hybrid will outweigh the environmental costs of the manufacturing. In fact, some argue that the environmental costs of producing nickel metal hydride batteries for hybrids make them even Worse than H3’s.

4. A recent study showed that an increasing number of hybrid owners buy them out of vanity. Reading this, and watching the hybrid car episode of South Park, makes me feel a bit obnoxious about the whole thing. (Really, the cloud of smug. Brilliant!)

Which brings it back around to where I started. I do want a hybrid because of what it says about me. I want it because it makes a statement, because it says something to auto manufacturers and to anyone who sees me driving it. I want to feel like I really am part of the solution to the problem, somehow and in some way.

But maybe I’ll wait a few (or more) years. Because I’m not sure I can afford $22,000 worth of smug.

Carnival Wrap Ups

This week, I participated in two Carnivals:

The Carnival of Personal Finance at the Mint

I recommend


Moneymonk’s post on the American Dream


Rocket Finance’s description of making 32 dollars in 32 days

and

The Festival of Frugality at Money Walks

I recommend:
Comfort and Style on a Cheapskate’s budget from Nature Moms

Frugality, Morality, and Harry Potter at Graceful Retirement

Book Review: Heat, by Bill Buford

I recently finished reading Heat: An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany by Bill Buford. This book is not about personal finance – at least, not really. Heat is the author’s story of his experiences inside a number of different restaurants, in both New York and in Italy, and what he learned about food and the people involved in its production. One part biography of chefs like Mario Batali and Marco Pierre White, one part memoir, and one part essay on cooking, this book completely changed my outlook on what we eat.

A former editor for the New Yorker, Buford began by working in the kitchen at Batali’s New York restaurant Babbo in order to write a profile of it for the magazine. While there, he began to learn the intricacies of not only Babbo’s kitchen but the process of preparing food in a restaurant, and the nature and quality of the food we eat. This led him on a journey which involved quitting his job and moving to Italy to study in not one but two small town kitchens. There he learned more about how what we prepare and eat defines who we are.

As I read the book, I was fascinated by all of the little mini-lessons in cooking that Buford works in, (Polenta, he discovered, doesn’t need to be stirred. That’s why you can cook it so long, and that’s what makes it so good. ), the tips from the Babbo kitchen (Pasta water is used to thicken sauces and is the key to most everything), the investigations into the history and origin of food (when, exactly, did eggs replace water in pasta?) and the discoveries about what factors effect food quality (if steak feels heavy in your stomach and grainy on your tongue it is because of just that – the grain it was fed – and is an inferior product). Even moreso, though, I was fascinated by the light and passion with which the food was described. Each discovery is life changing, is an enlightenment. One egg can be so important.

In the end, this book reaches a place that’s truly amazing – Buford realizes that food knowledge that has been passed through generations may now be lost: “The Maestro will die. I will die. The memory will die. Food made by hand is an act of defiance and runs contrary to everything in our modernity. Find it; eat it; it will go. It has been around for millennia. Now it is evanescent, like a season.”
Read this book. Then go cook something, from scratch, with your hands. If it can make one this passionate, this aware, this human, it must be something really special.