Stopped by the credit union the other day and did the standard 10 minute surgical strike at the neighborhood thrift.
I found one. It’s been two years of searching I call Purchase Patience. The price is always dirt-cheap and never the issue. The problem is there’s a certain model I want. You know the old doctors scales with a platform to stand on with two weights to balance? This recent scale was close in design, but not close enough. I passed.
Snapshots of all the scales found but not purchased came to mind. There’ve been many.
It’s not aggravating, the scale of the wait. [Pun intended.]
Purchase Patience emphasizes the value of waiting for a reward, something seldom promoted in the current American Now Culture. When consumers are given the latest gadget and toys year round, what could one want for Christmas? I guess that’s why we have Chia Pets, chocolate fountains and S’more makers. Yikes.
A girlfriend once told a precious story about her brothers and sisters crowding around the freshest JC Penney catalog with lightening fast reaction to be the first to slap their little hand on an item and call, “Dibs!” for Christmas.
I remember the Penney’s catalog and the roller skates I wanted for Christmas. Once received, I wore them everywhere but school for about two years, possibly three. I asked for a size up and stuffed the toe until I fully grew into them, thinking ahead as to how I could make these skates go the distance on time.
I reminisced items passed over just this year alone. Can’t count how many pieces of cashmere not purchased, all under my Flinch Point. If the funding were available, I’d open the Girlfriend Hotel where women check in for much needed therapeutic respites. The hotel would have a huge library of movies and books, serve the best comfort food, have suites of adjoining rooms, an in-room spa service for pedicures, and each visitor would be given a complete ensemble of cashmere to wear during their stay. The hotel would offer all the things that help women relax so they can come together for girlfriend laugh therapy. Until that day comes, camping in the mountains with our little girls serves as a primitive hotel. The bathrooms are not bathrooms but the views of the Milky Way can’t be beat.
In today’s world it’s a bit comical that I’ve passed on replacement glassware because the glass was $0.99 not $0.49. The same applies to replacement plates and bowls. I’ve passed on natural fiber yarns, new skeins for about $1, because the color wasn’t quite right.
People not familiar with Purchase Patience will dive on a bargain without stopping to think, “Is this really what I want or need?”
The knowing that what you want will eventually present itself, eliminates the pressure in purchasing and allows Purchase Patience to take root.
I hope more Americans pause and realize we, as a nation, need more Purchase Patience on all items we consume, both large and small ticket. We’re purchasing jokes, frauds, default credit swaps. Why?
If we haven’t learned that the Now Culture is not sustainable, wow, that doesn’t speak well to our smarts as a first world country.
Think about it, wouldn’t Purchase Patience be a good thing to want for Christmas? That, and Peace. [I made Peace a proper noun because I think it important enough.]
Our family received an unexpected and much-wanted gift yesterday. Our dear friend, unanimously elected into the family, showed up at the front door via Jamaica! She’s in little Pie’s room and is about to sledding on Governor’s Hill. Being from Jamaica, this will be her first time. Today, we sled!
Best to all and may you find what you truly need and want this Christmas. Godspeed!
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Beware of the looming Gifting Anxiety
This post ran last year and resonated with many. I think we could all use a little reminder...
I’m no fan of staying up late on Christmas Eve to wrap gifts only to have my daughters wake me up pre-dawn. I really appreciate sleep. I’m nearly finished, just a few more to wrap.
One would think completion of such a large task as wrapping would usher in a feeling of relief or satisfaction.
It never does.
After everything is neatly wrapped with personal tags dangling, I step back and look at the whole of my year-round efforts of thoughtfully hunting treasure for my family and friends. Instead of thinking,” Wow! It’s beautiful!” I think, “Wow! It’s such a small pile.” How crazy is that? I need to remind myself we've a home with a holiday tree we chopped down ourselves in the forest and a real fireplace. We have heat and food in the pantry. Warm beds. Coats. Each other.
We’re trained to think that our children will feel completely dejected if there's still standing room in our living room on Christmas morning. We believe our home should look something like the home of Herr and Frau Silberhaus in the Nutcracker mixed with an FAO Schwarz two-story display that assaults the senses.
It really gets under my skin. I fall for the illusion every year. I begin to feel like I’m a bad mommy because I didn’t scout out enough gifts. I didn’t give enough. Enough of what? I'm not even certain.
This tempts me to race out at the last minute and fill that void with more gifts.
Attention, shopping never feels psychological voids. Nope. Na-uh. No way.
The reality? I really don’t have enough time to think about what else could be truly meaningful. I’ve spent the entire year searching and thrown a lot of thought into the gifts that sit before me. To think I’m going to find the great and profound missing pieces in the last hour is a bit foolish.
If I did race out to buy more, it’ll likely be gift filler, meaningless stuff thrown in to aid in the illusion that quantity trumps thoughtfulness. A cheap acrylic sweater isn't going to tip the scales.
Why this feeling always overtakes me every year is a real stumper. It is far out of line from my standard shopping mentality.
Perhaps I need some sort of therapy. Or perhaps, we’ve been conditioned to think we will never give enough presents to our children. The latter is a horrible thought. It would be cruel if I had succumbed to this as a deliberate marketing tactic. The only thing we can give more of to our children is love.
I need a distraction. I think hot cocoa with whipped cream and sprinkles, a fire in the hearth and a family game of dominoes under the tree might do the trick.
I think that’d make more sense than racing out now to buy stuff that’s going to be massively discounted in a few days. Besides, I'm not even certain I want the items when they're 80% off so why would I pay full price?
I KNOW others deal with this psychological issue every year too. How do you manage?
I’m no fan of staying up late on Christmas Eve to wrap gifts only to have my daughters wake me up pre-dawn. I really appreciate sleep. I’m nearly finished, just a few more to wrap.
One would think completion of such a large task as wrapping would usher in a feeling of relief or satisfaction.
It never does.
After everything is neatly wrapped with personal tags dangling, I step back and look at the whole of my year-round efforts of thoughtfully hunting treasure for my family and friends. Instead of thinking,” Wow! It’s beautiful!” I think, “Wow! It’s such a small pile.” How crazy is that? I need to remind myself we've a home with a holiday tree we chopped down ourselves in the forest and a real fireplace. We have heat and food in the pantry. Warm beds. Coats. Each other.
We’re trained to think that our children will feel completely dejected if there's still standing room in our living room on Christmas morning. We believe our home should look something like the home of Herr and Frau Silberhaus in the Nutcracker mixed with an FAO Schwarz two-story display that assaults the senses.
It really gets under my skin. I fall for the illusion every year. I begin to feel like I’m a bad mommy because I didn’t scout out enough gifts. I didn’t give enough. Enough of what? I'm not even certain.
This tempts me to race out at the last minute and fill that void with more gifts.
Attention, shopping never feels psychological voids. Nope. Na-uh. No way.
The reality? I really don’t have enough time to think about what else could be truly meaningful. I’ve spent the entire year searching and thrown a lot of thought into the gifts that sit before me. To think I’m going to find the great and profound missing pieces in the last hour is a bit foolish.
If I did race out to buy more, it’ll likely be gift filler, meaningless stuff thrown in to aid in the illusion that quantity trumps thoughtfulness. A cheap acrylic sweater isn't going to tip the scales.
Why this feeling always overtakes me every year is a real stumper. It is far out of line from my standard shopping mentality.
Perhaps I need some sort of therapy. Or perhaps, we’ve been conditioned to think we will never give enough presents to our children. The latter is a horrible thought. It would be cruel if I had succumbed to this as a deliberate marketing tactic. The only thing we can give more of to our children is love.
I need a distraction. I think hot cocoa with whipped cream and sprinkles, a fire in the hearth and a family game of dominoes under the tree might do the trick.
I think that’d make more sense than racing out now to buy stuff that’s going to be massively discounted in a few days. Besides, I'm not even certain I want the items when they're 80% off so why would I pay full price?
I KNOW others deal with this psychological issue every year too. How do you manage?
Sunday, December 11, 2011
My home of abandonment
My brother in law visited recently. He had not been to our Denver home, quite a different place from the home we left in Boulder. Built in 1900, it’s much older as are the contents.
Nearly every piece of furniture was once abandoned, whether it be found in an alley, yard sale, estate sale or a thrift store, someone had given up on it.
As I’ve written many times, the ultimate value of an item cannot be determined by money. If the only attributable thing to an item is money, like company stocks, it will never be stable. It even has the potential to fail. Other items, like cars, have a set schedule of depreciation of value.
But items of ultimate value only accrue value and meaning. I’ve a tattered, worn, once plush rabbit that is nearly as old as me. It has no monetary value but its ultimate value is more than almost any item I own. The same applies with my collection of unique alley finds and thrift store treasures. They have stories. Some involve my repairs, others complete refinishing, and others with the complete wonderment that something could be so old and in such amazing condition.
I’ve learned many things since opening the Etsy store. The thing I enjoy most is the items I release onto the Etsy go to homes where they will be valued. Not because of cost but because of what they are as items and the purpose they serve. The many stories I’m told by customers at point of sale serves testimony.
Perhaps if we truly held ultimate value to the items we purchased, we’d all be better off in our pocket books and our states of mind. Something to think about during this season of buy, buy, and buy like your life depends upon it, or at least Wall Street does.
Nearly every piece of furniture was once abandoned, whether it be found in an alley, yard sale, estate sale or a thrift store, someone had given up on it.
As I’ve written many times, the ultimate value of an item cannot be determined by money. If the only attributable thing to an item is money, like company stocks, it will never be stable. It even has the potential to fail. Other items, like cars, have a set schedule of depreciation of value.
But items of ultimate value only accrue value and meaning. I’ve a tattered, worn, once plush rabbit that is nearly as old as me. It has no monetary value but its ultimate value is more than almost any item I own. The same applies with my collection of unique alley finds and thrift store treasures. They have stories. Some involve my repairs, others complete refinishing, and others with the complete wonderment that something could be so old and in such amazing condition.
I’ve learned many things since opening the Etsy store. The thing I enjoy most is the items I release onto the Etsy go to homes where they will be valued. Not because of cost but because of what they are as items and the purpose they serve. The many stories I’m told by customers at point of sale serves testimony.
Perhaps if we truly held ultimate value to the items we purchased, we’d all be better off in our pocket books and our states of mind. Something to think about during this season of buy, buy, and buy like your life depends upon it, or at least Wall Street does.
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