Yes, it's an embarrassing confession: I am an eBay Virgin. I have never bought or sold anything on eBay.
My kids buy stuff on there all the time. But it all seems so time consuming--searching through pages and pages of, um, stuff to find what you want. Placing a bid. Placing another bid. Waiting to see if you win. Waiting to see if you receive what you think you won. And what the hell is PayPal?
I guess I'm just a simple girl. When I need to buy something, I like to get in, get what I need, and get out.
However, we recently had occasion to give eBay a try. When we picked out and ordered our granite (yes, I got the granite) we also had to choose a sink because, as everyone knows, it's way cool to have an undermount sink. And with a new sink, of course, we had to have a new faucet. I'll be ranting about the "domino effect" of home renovation very soon.
Anyway, we got the sink from the same place we bought the granite because their prices were comparable to those at the local home improvement stores. Their faucets, however--not so much. The one I liked was $1,800.
Obviously, this was out of the question. Someone (not me) thought we should try eBay. We typed in "kitchen faucets" and got over 5,700 results. Are you kidding me?
So Chris sorted through them and found one to bid on. We used Josh's account. After messing around with the bidding all evening, we lost. It was stupid. eBay is stupid.
So we went to Lowes, got what we needed--I mean, what we wanted--and got out. Simple.
26 February 2009
24 February 2009
Crisis Management
Although I worry about it every day, my family has not yet been personally impacted by the economic crisis. We both still have our jobs (for which we are grateful every single day), having made it through several rounds of layoffs. Our 401(k)s look pretty ugly, but since we won't need those for 20 years we've just stopped opening the statements.
But being financially stable is still a big concern. We have become more thoughtful about our day-to-day spending: we don't go out to eat nearly as often as we used to, I'm clipping coupons, and we are trying to pay more attention to the difference between what we need and what we want. Yes, we are making some major home improvements, but we believe (or hope) that we are investing in the value of our home.
So this weekend we ran over to the shopping area of our town. We have a fairly large mall, surrounded by all the big-box department stores. We hadn't been over there since before Christmas, but Chris needed a pair of dress shoes.
As we exited of the highway, the exit ramp was backed up with traffic. We inched down the ramp, thinking there was an accident; but no, there was just a lot of traffic in and around the mall. Everyone was shopping!
Believing the news that consumer spending was down, I thought maybe people were just window shopping, wanting to get out of the house on a sunny Saturday--because shopping has become a form of entertainment, right? But in the store a voice came over the loudspeaker, asking for all available associates to open a cash register because the lines were very long. People were buying stuff.
What does this all mean? Has the crisis not hit our area yet? Were these people, like us, just out to buy something they really needed? Are we all in complete denial about what's happening? Or do we all feel so helpless and out of control that we don't know what else to do except to engage in some "retail therapy"?
I think we (and when I say "we" I mean anyone under the age of 50) just don't know how to stop shopping. The line between need and want has virtually disappeared. We've never been asked (or forced) to sacrifice, to tighten the belt, to save money. I think we simply don't know what to do.
I'd love to know what you think...
But being financially stable is still a big concern. We have become more thoughtful about our day-to-day spending: we don't go out to eat nearly as often as we used to, I'm clipping coupons, and we are trying to pay more attention to the difference between what we need and what we want. Yes, we are making some major home improvements, but we believe (or hope) that we are investing in the value of our home.
So this weekend we ran over to the shopping area of our town. We have a fairly large mall, surrounded by all the big-box department stores. We hadn't been over there since before Christmas, but Chris needed a pair of dress shoes.
As we exited of the highway, the exit ramp was backed up with traffic. We inched down the ramp, thinking there was an accident; but no, there was just a lot of traffic in and around the mall. Everyone was shopping!
Believing the news that consumer spending was down, I thought maybe people were just window shopping, wanting to get out of the house on a sunny Saturday--because shopping has become a form of entertainment, right? But in the store a voice came over the loudspeaker, asking for all available associates to open a cash register because the lines were very long. People were buying stuff.
What does this all mean? Has the crisis not hit our area yet? Were these people, like us, just out to buy something they really needed? Are we all in complete denial about what's happening? Or do we all feel so helpless and out of control that we don't know what else to do except to engage in some "retail therapy"?
I think we (and when I say "we" I mean anyone under the age of 50) just don't know how to stop shopping. The line between need and want has virtually disappeared. We've never been asked (or forced) to sacrifice, to tighten the belt, to save money. I think we simply don't know what to do.
I'd love to know what you think...
20 February 2009
Decisions, Decisions
I am a terrible decision-maker. I'm always overwhelmed by the number of choices I have, then obsess over the choices I make.
In my last house, I wanted to paint the family room a soft, buttery yellow. It took seven quarts of paint (and big swatches of each on the wall that I stared at for weeks) to make the decision. When I finally chose one, I gave a girlfriend all the quarts I didn't use. She mixed them all together and painted her kitchen. It looked great.
Chris and I have found a way to help slow this kind of craziness. I pick three colors or three sofas or three lamps that I can live with, and he makes the final choice. This works out quite well.
In our kitchen, we have replaced all the major appliances as they've died off and painted the walls beige (after I had already painted it two shades of green that I didn't like). Now we will choose countertops.
Of course, I want granite. From what I read, granite is the standard now, even in the most modest homes. It's what buyers expect. But it's expensive. So we look at some alternatives:
"High-Definition" Laminate--for about a 1/10 of the cost of granite, we can install HD laminate that looks like granite. We go to Lowes to see it. It looks like fake granite. No, thank you.
Granite Tiles--also a fraction of the cost of granite slabs, but to keep the cost down, we'd have to install it ourselves. We've tiled before, so I get online to see what's involved. Too many steps. It could take years. Next.
Trend Stone--an engineered surface that mixes ground granite and quartz with a polymer, so it looks like a mix between granite and solid-surface. Nice, but almost as expensive as granite. If we're going to spend this much, why not just get granite? (This is called rationalization; something I am brilliant at.)
So, after much deliberation, it is granite. We choose granite.
I MUST HAVE GRANITE.
In my last house, I wanted to paint the family room a soft, buttery yellow. It took seven quarts of paint (and big swatches of each on the wall that I stared at for weeks) to make the decision. When I finally chose one, I gave a girlfriend all the quarts I didn't use. She mixed them all together and painted her kitchen. It looked great.
Chris and I have found a way to help slow this kind of craziness. I pick three colors or three sofas or three lamps that I can live with, and he makes the final choice. This works out quite well.
In our kitchen, we have replaced all the major appliances as they've died off and painted the walls beige (after I had already painted it two shades of green that I didn't like). Now we will choose countertops.
 The OUTDATED laminate countertops must go. |
Of course, I want granite. From what I read, granite is the standard now, even in the most modest homes. It's what buyers expect. But it's expensive. So we look at some alternatives:
"High-Definition" Laminate--for about a 1/10 of the cost of granite, we can install HD laminate that looks like granite. We go to Lowes to see it. It looks like fake granite. No, thank you.
Granite Tiles--also a fraction of the cost of granite slabs, but to keep the cost down, we'd have to install it ourselves. We've tiled before, so I get online to see what's involved. Too many steps. It could take years. Next.
Trend Stone--an engineered surface that mixes ground granite and quartz with a polymer, so it looks like a mix between granite and solid-surface. Nice, but almost as expensive as granite. If we're going to spend this much, why not just get granite? (This is called rationalization; something I am brilliant at.)
So, after much deliberation, it is granite. We choose granite.
I MUST HAVE GRANITE.
17 February 2009
The Sin of Being Outdated
Here is my kitchen:
It's perfectly fine: it's large, well organized, clean, and everything functions the way it should. But as I'm sure you'll notice immediately, it is OUTDATED. If you pay any attention to home decorating magazines or TV shows, you know that the worst sin you can commit is to live in an OUTDATED space.
It doesn't matter if your house works well for you or if you have three little kids and work full time or if you barely have time to make your bed much less make it with stylish bedding and the proper number of accent pillows. You must update!
My home, which I feel very fortunate to live in, was built in the early nineties and is full of finishes and fixtures from the late eighties-- lots of brass, fake marble, popcorn ceilings, stuff like that. When people visit, they always say nice things about it, but often follow up their compliments with a little additional comment:
"It will be fun to fix up!"
"What room are you going to redo first?"
"It's a bit OUTDATED, isn't it?"
Well, yes. It is. It's a bit OUTDATED.
OK, I get it. We hope to downsize in the next 3-5 years, and from what I understand, no one would ever want to buy such an OUTDATED house.
Where do we start? By robbing a bank, I suspect.
It's perfectly fine: it's large, well organized, clean, and everything functions the way it should. But as I'm sure you'll notice immediately, it is OUTDATED. If you pay any attention to home decorating magazines or TV shows, you know that the worst sin you can commit is to live in an OUTDATED space.
It doesn't matter if your house works well for you or if you have three little kids and work full time or if you barely have time to make your bed much less make it with stylish bedding and the proper number of accent pillows. You must update!
My home, which I feel very fortunate to live in, was built in the early nineties and is full of finishes and fixtures from the late eighties-- lots of brass, fake marble, popcorn ceilings, stuff like that. When people visit, they always say nice things about it, but often follow up their compliments with a little additional comment:
"It will be fun to fix up!"
"What room are you going to redo first?"
"It's a bit OUTDATED, isn't it?"
Well, yes. It is. It's a bit OUTDATED.
OK, I get it. We hope to downsize in the next 3-5 years, and from what I understand, no one would ever want to buy such an OUTDATED house.
Where do we start? By robbing a bank, I suspect.
12 February 2009
The Worst Drivers on the Planet
Before I dive into the kitchen remodel, I thought I'd take just a moment to rant about something I'm reminded of every time I leave the house--the suburbs are teeming with soccer moms in SUVs, or who I like to call The Worst Drivers on the Planet.
You've seen them: They're usually blond with expert highlights, they wear expensive sunglasses, and they have a cell phone that's perpetually attached to their ear. For some reason, they've never gotten around to buying a Bluetooth, so they're always driving with one hand. They weave in and out of traffic, cut me off (because they realize they're in the wrong lane at the last minute), or my favorite, tailgate me because I am not observing their inalienable right to be in a hurry.
If I ever kill anyone, it will be a blond in an SUV who is tailgating me. I suspect I will beat her to death with her cell phone. And steal her sunglasses.
You've seen them: They're usually blond with expert highlights, they wear expensive sunglasses, and they have a cell phone that's perpetually attached to their ear. For some reason, they've never gotten around to buying a Bluetooth, so they're always driving with one hand. They weave in and out of traffic, cut me off (because they realize they're in the wrong lane at the last minute), or my favorite, tailgate me because I am not observing their inalienable right to be in a hurry.
If I ever kill anyone, it will be a blond in an SUV who is tailgating me. I suspect I will beat her to death with her cell phone. And steal her sunglasses.
11 February 2009
Size Matters
When you live in the suburbs, your self-esteem is intimately tied to your home. More specifically, it is tied to the size of your home. And bigger is better, right, Ladies?
So when we were transferred from (a suburb of) Denver to (a suburb of) Kansas City four years ago, we got pretty darn excited when we saw how much house we could get for our money. The homes we were looking at to buy were twice the size of the basic little tract home we were selling. Yippee!
And since we weren't terribly happy about leaving Denver (but you have to follow the job, right?) it was easy for us to justify buying the biggest house we could afford: we're moving away from our family; we work hard and deserve it; if we have to live here we'll live however we want.
But did we stop to think that there were only four of us? Or that our kids were older, had friends and girlfriends in Denver, and would want to escape Missouri (which my oldest son pronounced "Misery") at the earliest opportunity? Not for a second.
We also didn't think about how much maintenance a large house requires. Or how much it costs to heat and cool. Or the time and energy it takes to care for a pool (yeah, we got one of those, too, thinking it might help convince faraway family and friends that Kansas City is a great vacation destination).
So we went for it and bought a lovely home in a lovely neighborhood. It has four bedrooms and five baths (which sounds cool until you spend a Saturday morning cleaning five toilets). It includes a formal living room, a formal dining room, and a designated guest room--three spaces for which we didn't have any furniture.
And so began what has become a real love/hate relationship with my big suburban home...
So when we were transferred from (a suburb of) Denver to (a suburb of) Kansas City four years ago, we got pretty darn excited when we saw how much house we could get for our money. The homes we were looking at to buy were twice the size of the basic little tract home we were selling. Yippee!
And since we weren't terribly happy about leaving Denver (but you have to follow the job, right?) it was easy for us to justify buying the biggest house we could afford: we're moving away from our family; we work hard and deserve it; if we have to live here we'll live however we want.
But did we stop to think that there were only four of us? Or that our kids were older, had friends and girlfriends in Denver, and would want to escape Missouri (which my oldest son pronounced "Misery") at the earliest opportunity? Not for a second.
We also didn't think about how much maintenance a large house requires. Or how much it costs to heat and cool. Or the time and energy it takes to care for a pool (yeah, we got one of those, too, thinking it might help convince faraway family and friends that Kansas City is a great vacation destination).
So we went for it and bought a lovely home in a lovely neighborhood. It has four bedrooms and five baths (which sounds cool until you spend a Saturday morning cleaning five toilets). It includes a formal living room, a formal dining room, and a designated guest room--three spaces for which we didn't have any furniture.
And so began what has become a real love/hate relationship with my big suburban home...
09 February 2009
A Tragic Ending
I am a hopeless home decorating junkie. This is not to say that I'm any good at it, but I love to read home design magazines, burning through around 20 of them every month. And even though I know that these magazines make you feel about your house the way fashion magazines make you feel about your body, I read them cover to cover, tear out and save pages I believe I will someday replicate, and dream about what it would be like to live in a magazine-worthy home.
(I also watch many more hours of HGTV than would be considered normal, but we'll work through that issue later.)
So I was grief-stricken when I recently learned that one of my very favorites, Domino, is ending its publication after just four short years.
I will really miss this fun and funky magazine, but I also feel the staff's pain: a few years ago I was the editor of a short-lived (we published a total of four issues) trade magazine for interior designers and architects. During the production of what would be our final issue, the magazine was sold to a new publisher. Shocked by the cost to produce it (it was expensive) and uncertain about its ability to make a profit, the new CEO quickly put it down. And although I am grateful to the company for my current position (maintaining the websites of eight regional home design magazines), I will forever mourn the sudden and brutal death of my magazine and my dream job.
Why am I telling you all this? Because I have been entrenched in the home design industry for almost 10 years and am sure I'll be sharing some stories about its excitement and glamour, as well as a lot of silliness that comes from a decade of interviewing interior designers who sometimes take themselves way too seriously.
Chris and I are also about to dive head-first into a quasi-major kitchen renovation, which is bound to bring up many of my profound and insightful thoughts about the Importance of Good Design. The whole extravaganza should be good for a few laughs as well. Buckle your seatbelt...it's gonna be a bumpy ride.
06 February 2009
"Dinner Moments"
So, I was cooking dinner last night, and by cooking I mean I was heating up a Stouffer's frozen lasagna, and on the back of the box was part of their latest media campaign, called Dinner Moments. The message: Families should eat dinner together and parents should talk to their kids. And on the box are "conversation starters," questions you should ask your kids, while you're all sitting around the dinner table, to get them talking.
Well, yes...of course. As parents, we already know this, right? It's a lovely sentiment, in a very Ozzie and Harriet way (although Harriet would NEVER make a Stouffer's dinner).
So why does it bug me that a corporation feels the need to dole out parenting advice? Perhaps because the questions are so dorky:
I got online to see what kind of questions they came up with for older kids (yes, they have a website dedicated to getting families talking, which apparently will sell more frozen dinners: dinnermoments.com) but they were all for little kids, too. So I thought I'd suggest some questions to get teenagers talking:
Well, yes...of course. As parents, we already know this, right? It's a lovely sentiment, in a very Ozzie and Harriet way (although Harriet would NEVER make a Stouffer's dinner).
So why does it bug me that a corporation feels the need to dole out parenting advice? Perhaps because the questions are so dorky:
- If you could star in a movie with a famous actor, who would it be?
- What singer or actor would you want as a babysitter?
- If you could be a foreign exchange student anywhere in the world, where would it be?
- What is your favorite Saturday morning TV show?
I got online to see what kind of questions they came up with for older kids (yes, they have a website dedicated to getting families talking, which apparently will sell more frozen dinners: dinnermoments.com) but they were all for little kids, too. So I thought I'd suggest some questions to get teenagers talking:
- What's it like to play video games for 12 hours straight?
- When are you going to get a job?
- When are you going to stop asking me for money?
- When are you moving out?
02 February 2009
"I hope he fails"
Rush Limbaugh's infamous statement a few weeks ago caused a lot of press (which, of course, was the idea--Limbaugh is nothing if not a master media whore). A shocking statement to be sure, even for someone who makes a living trying to be shocking.
I totally understand that he and his listeners are staunch conservative republicans, and that the focus of his show is to trash democrats. But does he really hope our new President fails?
Let me tell you--you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who dislikes George W. Bush more than me. But I never, ever--either publicly or privately--hoped he failed. In fact, I hoped beyond hope that he would succeed. Because when the President fails, we all fail. As it turns out, the former President did fail...and here we are.
The fact is, it's a luxury to hope someone fails. You have to be in the enviable position of knowing that if someone fails, you a) will be affected in a positive way, and/or b) will not be affected at all. For example, I have the luxury of hoping Limbaugh fails. I a) won't have to hear reports of the crap he spews, and b) since I don't listen to his show, his demise would have absolutely no effect on my life.
Both of these points are true for Mr. Limbaugh in his hope. If President Obama fails, the effect would be positive for Limbaugh in that he can rant about how he was right and perhaps expand his listening base. Obama's failure could, God forbid, make Limbaugh more popular than I can bear to think about. Financially, Limbaugh won't be affected at all. He just signed an 8-year, $400 million contract with Clear Channel. Bravo, Rush!
I suspect that most of us don't have the luxury of hoping our President fails. If he fails, those of us teetering on the brink of job loss, foreclosure or bankruptcy (or in many cases, all three), or who are watching our 401(k)s disappear, will fail right along with him.
For someone who considers himself a great patriot, I find Limbaugh's comment terribly unpatriotic. I'd love to hear what you think. Do you feel the same way, or do you agree with Al Franken (and me) that he is just a "Big Fat Idiot"?
I totally understand that he and his listeners are staunch conservative republicans, and that the focus of his show is to trash democrats. But does he really hope our new President fails?
Let me tell you--you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who dislikes George W. Bush more than me. But I never, ever--either publicly or privately--hoped he failed. In fact, I hoped beyond hope that he would succeed. Because when the President fails, we all fail. As it turns out, the former President did fail...and here we are.
The fact is, it's a luxury to hope someone fails. You have to be in the enviable position of knowing that if someone fails, you a) will be affected in a positive way, and/or b) will not be affected at all. For example, I have the luxury of hoping Limbaugh fails. I a) won't have to hear reports of the crap he spews, and b) since I don't listen to his show, his demise would have absolutely no effect on my life.
Both of these points are true for Mr. Limbaugh in his hope. If President Obama fails, the effect would be positive for Limbaugh in that he can rant about how he was right and perhaps expand his listening base. Obama's failure could, God forbid, make Limbaugh more popular than I can bear to think about. Financially, Limbaugh won't be affected at all. He just signed an 8-year, $400 million contract with Clear Channel. Bravo, Rush!
I suspect that most of us don't have the luxury of hoping our President fails. If he fails, those of us teetering on the brink of job loss, foreclosure or bankruptcy (or in many cases, all three), or who are watching our 401(k)s disappear, will fail right along with him.
For someone who considers himself a great patriot, I find Limbaugh's comment terribly unpatriotic. I'd love to hear what you think. Do you feel the same way, or do you agree with Al Franken (and me) that he is just a "Big Fat Idiot"?
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