Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Being Prepared.
I've never been one to watch the financial markets, or to go out of my way to understand what happens on Wall Street, but I guess the fallacy that this whole financial collapse was based on is the idea that home values can only go up. As I think back on my home-purchasing process, I vaguely recall my financial adviser (yes, I had a financial adviser) say something along the lines of, "Home values will only go up." Ironically, my financial adviser, it turns out, doesn't actually own a home. Nice.
I've been trying to figure out just how all of these goings on will affect me, and how it is that I can prepare for the Great Depression of 2008. My romantic mind goes back to Dorothea Lange photographs, John Steinbeck novels, dust bowls and ham salad. I'm not in the process of commuting to California, nor am I a migrant worker, picking peaches, grapes, apples. So I'm having a difficult time picturing myself in a new Depression.
I guess my natural instinct would be to stockpile, to live in a constant fear that someone - the government, China, Sarah Palin? - is going to take my Stuff. Store cans of gasoline and gallons of water in my basement. Buy a handgun and learn how to use it. But, truth be told, stockpiling is not my strong suit. Otherwise, I would have had such useful items as ice, batteries and candles during my week-long power outage.
It seems that the most intelligent thing I can do during our economic meltdown is to continue on with my current economic plan. 1: Don't sell the house. 2: Do not withdraw the five pounds and eighteen pence that I have stored in a bank account in England. If worse comes to worse, I can trade the copper piping for a meal and use the money in England as a bribe to keep someone from beating the shit out of me in the almost certain riot for gasoline that will happen at the Giant Eagle GetGo down the street from my house.
As for my 401k, China can have it. It's probably worthless, and I'm pretty sure that all the money went to the German government, anyway.
A final thought: I should probably learn how to play the banjo, and I should probably do that immediately.
I've never been one to watch the financial markets, or to go out of my way to understand what happens on Wall Street, but I guess the fallacy that this whole financial collapse was based on is the idea that home values can only go up. As I think back on my home-purchasing process, I vaguely recall my financial adviser (yes, I had a financial adviser) say something along the lines of, "Home values will only go up." Ironically, my financial adviser, it turns out, doesn't actually own a home. Nice.
I've been trying to figure out just how all of these goings on will affect me, and how it is that I can prepare for the Great Depression of 2008. My romantic mind goes back to Dorothea Lange photographs, John Steinbeck novels, dust bowls and ham salad. I'm not in the process of commuting to California, nor am I a migrant worker, picking peaches, grapes, apples. So I'm having a difficult time picturing myself in a new Depression.
I guess my natural instinct would be to stockpile, to live in a constant fear that someone - the government, China, Sarah Palin? - is going to take my Stuff. Store cans of gasoline and gallons of water in my basement. Buy a handgun and learn how to use it. But, truth be told, stockpiling is not my strong suit. Otherwise, I would have had such useful items as ice, batteries and candles during my week-long power outage.
It seems that the most intelligent thing I can do during our economic meltdown is to continue on with my current economic plan. 1: Don't sell the house. 2: Do not withdraw the five pounds and eighteen pence that I have stored in a bank account in England. If worse comes to worse, I can trade the copper piping for a meal and use the money in England as a bribe to keep someone from beating the shit out of me in the almost certain riot for gasoline that will happen at the Giant Eagle GetGo down the street from my house.
As for my 401k, China can have it. It's probably worthless, and I'm pretty sure that all the money went to the German government, anyway.
A final thought: I should probably learn how to play the banjo, and I should probably do that immediately.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Power.
I was preparing for an Obama House Party on Sunday night when the power went out, due to Hurricane Ike. It's strange to think that a hurricane could hit Ohio, and even stranger to be without power for five days (and counting) while the weather is absolutely beautiful. These are the inconveniences of rainstorms, blizzards.
While this situation has caused me to meet many of my neighbors, it's starting to wear on me. It's no longer fun to go home to a dark house. It's not that I'm an extremely high tech woman; I don't watch television, I don't blow dry my hair. But I like my internet, and buying coffee every time I want to use it is getting a bit expensive. I'm not complaining, though. I have a roof over my head, the weather is perfect. My friends and family are safe. I had no structural damage to my home or car.
What's been interesting is seeing where my breaking points are. I've cried exactly two times in the past week. The first was when I went to work, to see what was going on in the grocery store. I saw three cartloads of cheese being rolled to the dumpster. The silence in the store was eerie. And all of that food, gone to waste... It broke my heart.
The second breaking point was when I described to a fried my desire to sit in my bed and read. What I've missed the most, it seems, is the ability to read a book at night.
I was preparing for an Obama House Party on Sunday night when the power went out, due to Hurricane Ike. It's strange to think that a hurricane could hit Ohio, and even stranger to be without power for five days (and counting) while the weather is absolutely beautiful. These are the inconveniences of rainstorms, blizzards.
While this situation has caused me to meet many of my neighbors, it's starting to wear on me. It's no longer fun to go home to a dark house. It's not that I'm an extremely high tech woman; I don't watch television, I don't blow dry my hair. But I like my internet, and buying coffee every time I want to use it is getting a bit expensive. I'm not complaining, though. I have a roof over my head, the weather is perfect. My friends and family are safe. I had no structural damage to my home or car.
What's been interesting is seeing where my breaking points are. I've cried exactly two times in the past week. The first was when I went to work, to see what was going on in the grocery store. I saw three cartloads of cheese being rolled to the dumpster. The silence in the store was eerie. And all of that food, gone to waste... It broke my heart.
The second breaking point was when I described to a fried my desire to sit in my bed and read. What I've missed the most, it seems, is the ability to read a book at night.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Moving Forward.
I want to start writing in the blog again, but I don't know where to start, how to catch up on the months and weeks of silence. I could write a soliloquy about the virtues of Autumn in Ohio (cicadas, burning leaves, political rallies) but I've been there, done that. So I'll do a list. Catch y'all up. And then move forward.
1. I'm getting my windows capped with aluminum. To keep out water and termites. This is an expensive endeavor.
2. I left the church in May, which means I've spent most of the summer working on figuring out who it is, exactly, that I am; what it is, exactly, that I believe; and what it is, exactly, that I'm going to do with the passion, time and energy that I put into the church for three-plus years. This process has involved booze, random travels, dates (good and bad), yarn, perennials and a lot of reading. I'll be sure to let you know when I get there.
It's a pretty short list, really. But I like it.
I want to start writing in the blog again, but I don't know where to start, how to catch up on the months and weeks of silence. I could write a soliloquy about the virtues of Autumn in Ohio (cicadas, burning leaves, political rallies) but I've been there, done that. So I'll do a list. Catch y'all up. And then move forward.
1. I'm getting my windows capped with aluminum. To keep out water and termites. This is an expensive endeavor.
2. I left the church in May, which means I've spent most of the summer working on figuring out who it is, exactly, that I am; what it is, exactly, that I believe; and what it is, exactly, that I'm going to do with the passion, time and energy that I put into the church for three-plus years. This process has involved booze, random travels, dates (good and bad), yarn, perennials and a lot of reading. I'll be sure to let you know when I get there.
It's a pretty short list, really. But I like it.
