Our latest news of a third little addition to our family has catapulted us into the usual thoughts and preparations that such news brings. One of the biggest adjustments we'll be making is that of purchasing a larger vehicle. Big fun, big research, big decision. We will sell our two older cars, which is a process itself, and meanwhile, we're trying to hone in on the best car choice for us.
My aunt in Texas has loaned me her Saturn Outlook for short jaunts during visits in the past, and I have absolutely fallen in love with that vehicle. Not only is it awesome, but it's also, I don't know, awesome. In my recent online wanderings to learn about current options, I've also come upon the Chevy Traverse, have since stepped inside one at a dealership, and have found it to be pretty sweet as well. Finally, there's the minivan, which everyone swears they'll never get, but that apparently lots and lots of people end up with nevertheless. We drove a Chrysler Town and Country (a minivan) on a recent trip, and it was pretty awesome, too.
All that background lays the groundwork for the rest. It's basically that silly conundrum of minivan versus no minivan. Stylewise, it wouldn't be our preference, but here's what I've found. We can get a nice one for our cash price range and very likely end up with zero car debt. That is super, to say the least. And in the end, we're told they get better gas mileage than the crossover SUVs in consideration. So along comes our dear friend and confidant Wisdom. Is there anything in us style-loving Finleys that might be tempted to go into a leeeeetle bit of debt to spring for what we think might be a "cooler" choice? Sure. And what really makes it "cooler?" I have no idea. Is it the Joneses? Whoever they are... Maybe.
But again, dear Wisdom, talk to me. My mom had a professor in college who made decent money and drove a low-style, reliable, older car. His students would ask him why he didn't get a newer car since he could surely afford it. One girl said, "You know, keeping up with the Joneses?" He looked at the group of students and said, "I am the Joneses." I absolutely love that! In effect, he was saying, "I set the standard." And presumably, if more people acted on that, they'd not only be setting a new standard for themselves but for those around them as well.
And you can take a look at the various millionaires and billionaires like Bill Gates who still live in the same $35,000 house they bought in their twenties or still drive the same reliable car they've always enjoyed. True wealth doesn't have to mean opulence, flashiness, or extravagance. I don't think those things are wrong at all, but I do find provocative the idea of understated affluence, of resource that gives influence, of simple excellence in life that doesn't look like it's trying too hard. Many folks we see who have such an appearance actually have little in the bank and are struggling to dig their way out of debt. Others are sitting on a lovely cushion that most of the world would never know is there. Now again, for the record, if it's within one's means to get whatever they want, I say go for it. And if it turns out that our preferred "style" is within our budget, we might just go for it. This process has gotten the Holy Spirit stirring in me, though, to consider all these things: motives, choices, discipline, Wisdom.
We've really been taking a chisel to our finances lately, and in some places an ax. That's what the move has been about, partially, though we've ended up with a much bigger place. I don't even know what the Joneses are doing, but if they're Average Americana, I think we'd all do well to steer clear of that pattern and start defining a new norm that espouses Wisdom and the peacable fruits that come from choosing well.
How refreshing! We are the Finleys, we'll set the standard, and we love wisdom. May we be diligent planters of seed and harvesters of the fruits, not consuming all but walking circumspectly with a perspective larger than our place and our time. We have a little generation coming after us that very much looks forward to an inheritance, after all!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Snakes, Frogs, Spiders, Mice, Moths, and...Cows: The Finleys Have Gone Country
We live in the country now, and it's pretty awesome. This place is very old; we're told it's around 200 years old, and its unique flavor is tons of fun. However, the previous resident(s) for however long have somehow not cared about terribly ugly, peeling wallpaper and other aesthetic atrocities, so we have our work cut out for us. It's the fun work, though, if we can carve out the time to get it done. Peeling off wallpaper is one thing, but when the walls are made of plaster that's partially crumbling at the edges, and when your carpenter husband has aaaaaaall these great options including tearing down and rebuilding the wall, it gets a little more complicated. So maybe you'll hear more about our beautifying escapades in the future. And one day we will post pictures! Our camera decided to work very momentarily the other day and now refuses to budge again.
For now, I'll say that the view is amazing. Our home faces a large cow pasture that is well tended, and in the distance behind it is a beautiful range of mountains in the east, which means we see the sun rise behind them (when we're awake for the sunrise, which is becoming more possible now that it's not happening at 4:30 am). And every afternoon, a group of wild turkeys, one of my favorite things, wanders the field for food.
A few welcome-to-the-country anecdotes...
I mentioned the cows across the street. Good thing I spent half my growing up years on farms, because the, ahem, not so pleasant smells that sometimes waft our way are lovely nostalgia for me rather than something less pleasant. It doesn't bother Jed, either, so we're good there.
One night at bedtime, the only lights on in the house were in mine and Jed's room. We discovered a window that was barely cracked open behind the shade, because 800,000 moths were attacking our faces and ramming into our lights. Armed with a flyswatter, Jed took no prisoners. He finally waved a triumphant victory flag after the Great Moth Massacre came to an end. Oh, the carnage.
Also, there are spiders everywhere, and they build webs at an incredible rate! I watched one do it right before my eyes a week or so ago right before I destroyed it, and her. I did feel kind of bad. But I will go through the house sweeping down webs only to find them rebuilt within hours. Pesky. Before you get all arachnophobic, though, they're just daddy longlegs, and they stay out of our way, tucked into corners.
We were told to get a cat to help control the mice. OK, so that's fine. It's an old farmhouse in the country. I spent hours pondering and wringing my hands over where to store our pantry items, especially those in bags and boxes. I know from experience that mice can tear most things up, use the scraps for a nest, and eat the food. So my wonderful mom and I vacuumed, scoured, and Lysol-ed every cabinet, and I bought air-tight canisters for many baking items and finally made a decision. I swore I heard mice scratching in the walls on my second night here. But I've heard and seen nothing since. Yeehaw! Jed did say he heard the equivalent of a mini herd of cattle run through the ceiling in the bathroom the other night, so who knows. I'll become very vigilant come winter, though, when our house will be a nice, warm, appealing haven. Stay tuned.
And finally, there's the Levi's First Day Incident.
Our first morning here was a Sunday, so it doesn't really count. It was still just night lodgings, then we hurried out that morning and spent half the day away.
But on our first full day, the Monday after, Levi spent most of the morning out front, digging with his toys in the gravel driveway. He came in after a long while and went to hang out in another room, nonchalant. A bit later he came into the kitchen where I was staring at the aforementioned cabinets with mice on my mind, and he relayed a story. He told me about how he saw a snake and a frog outside and that he shooed the snake away, then killed the frog to protect it.
I smiled down at him and said, "Wooooww! That is SO crazy!" wink, wink. Clearly, he was making it up, right? He was like, "Yeah, it was!"
"That's just a funny pretend story, though, right?" I thought I'd double check.
"No, it happened."
"When?" I wasn't convinced yet.
"This morning while I was digging outside!"
I assumed a slightly firmer Mommy expression: "Levi...is that the truth?"
"Yes, Mom!"
"OK, where's the frog?"
"Out there." Pointing toward the front.
"Show me."
Let's pause here, briefly, for me to say, in case you don't know already, that I despise frogs. I do not like them, even though they are cute, and have a completely irrational fear of them and am convinced deep down that they are involved in some insidious conspiracy to attack people and that they have fangs. I would never let Levi know this for two reasons: I don't want to pass on to him any more lunacy of mine than is absolutely unavoidable from genetic predisposition and close proximity, and I do not want him using it against me...ever.
So he started walking toward the front door. I was starting to realize that he was not just making up some awesome story. We reached the driveway, and there it was, pulverized by a preschooler with a large rock, by my own son. I was still dumbfounded and asked him if he found this smashed frog (perhaps hit by one of our cars.)
"Nooooo, Mom, I kiiiiiilled it!"
Yikes. I finally got the whole story out of him and began to get more and more creeped out. He saw a snake attacking a frog by the side of the driveway, somehow managed to scare the snake away before it really got going (I guess), watched the frog hop away across the driveway, then found a big rock and beat the frog to death so that the snake couldn't come back to hurt it. He was trying to save the frog. I later saw the snake over by some of my flower pots, watching us and the frog. I disposed of the frog, talked to Levi about respecting nature and not needing to beat frogs to death, or any small thing that's doing you no harm, then started throwing rocks at the snake. I know. The snake was a tiny garter snake, but it was still A SNAKE.
Another day, my mom was rototilling in the front yard, God bless her, and she managed to scare out a much larger snake from under a rock, but it too was a harmless one. Nevertheless, it is still flip-flop season around here, and when we get home at night in the dark, I hop and dance all around the car to get the kids out and to carry Adelaide inside. I always manage to get Jed and/or Levi to walk ahead of me so that they scare anything off before I get there.
So despite my boring ramblings on the matter, the reality has been quite adventurous already! And I love it. The quiet, the views, the pitch black at night, all of it. Sorting through the chaos of the move and the many projects has been offset by the constant reminder that life is not all busyness and bottom lines. Sometimes it's just you versus nature. But we seem to be holding our own, as long as we keep fly swatters and heavy stones always at the ready...
For now, I'll say that the view is amazing. Our home faces a large cow pasture that is well tended, and in the distance behind it is a beautiful range of mountains in the east, which means we see the sun rise behind them (when we're awake for the sunrise, which is becoming more possible now that it's not happening at 4:30 am). And every afternoon, a group of wild turkeys, one of my favorite things, wanders the field for food.
A few welcome-to-the-country anecdotes...
I mentioned the cows across the street. Good thing I spent half my growing up years on farms, because the, ahem, not so pleasant smells that sometimes waft our way are lovely nostalgia for me rather than something less pleasant. It doesn't bother Jed, either, so we're good there.
One night at bedtime, the only lights on in the house were in mine and Jed's room. We discovered a window that was barely cracked open behind the shade, because 800,000 moths were attacking our faces and ramming into our lights. Armed with a flyswatter, Jed took no prisoners. He finally waved a triumphant victory flag after the Great Moth Massacre came to an end. Oh, the carnage.
Also, there are spiders everywhere, and they build webs at an incredible rate! I watched one do it right before my eyes a week or so ago right before I destroyed it, and her. I did feel kind of bad. But I will go through the house sweeping down webs only to find them rebuilt within hours. Pesky. Before you get all arachnophobic, though, they're just daddy longlegs, and they stay out of our way, tucked into corners.
We were told to get a cat to help control the mice. OK, so that's fine. It's an old farmhouse in the country. I spent hours pondering and wringing my hands over where to store our pantry items, especially those in bags and boxes. I know from experience that mice can tear most things up, use the scraps for a nest, and eat the food. So my wonderful mom and I vacuumed, scoured, and Lysol-ed every cabinet, and I bought air-tight canisters for many baking items and finally made a decision. I swore I heard mice scratching in the walls on my second night here. But I've heard and seen nothing since. Yeehaw! Jed did say he heard the equivalent of a mini herd of cattle run through the ceiling in the bathroom the other night, so who knows. I'll become very vigilant come winter, though, when our house will be a nice, warm, appealing haven. Stay tuned.
And finally, there's the Levi's First Day Incident.
Our first morning here was a Sunday, so it doesn't really count. It was still just night lodgings, then we hurried out that morning and spent half the day away.
But on our first full day, the Monday after, Levi spent most of the morning out front, digging with his toys in the gravel driveway. He came in after a long while and went to hang out in another room, nonchalant. A bit later he came into the kitchen where I was staring at the aforementioned cabinets with mice on my mind, and he relayed a story. He told me about how he saw a snake and a frog outside and that he shooed the snake away, then killed the frog to protect it.
I smiled down at him and said, "Wooooww! That is SO crazy!" wink, wink. Clearly, he was making it up, right? He was like, "Yeah, it was!"
"That's just a funny pretend story, though, right?" I thought I'd double check.
"No, it happened."
"When?" I wasn't convinced yet.
"This morning while I was digging outside!"
I assumed a slightly firmer Mommy expression: "Levi...is that the truth?"
"Yes, Mom!"
"OK, where's the frog?"
"Out there." Pointing toward the front.
"Show me."
Let's pause here, briefly, for me to say, in case you don't know already, that I despise frogs. I do not like them, even though they are cute, and have a completely irrational fear of them and am convinced deep down that they are involved in some insidious conspiracy to attack people and that they have fangs. I would never let Levi know this for two reasons: I don't want to pass on to him any more lunacy of mine than is absolutely unavoidable from genetic predisposition and close proximity, and I do not want him using it against me...ever.
So he started walking toward the front door. I was starting to realize that he was not just making up some awesome story. We reached the driveway, and there it was, pulverized by a preschooler with a large rock, by my own son. I was still dumbfounded and asked him if he found this smashed frog (perhaps hit by one of our cars.)
"Nooooo, Mom, I kiiiiiilled it!"
Yikes. I finally got the whole story out of him and began to get more and more creeped out. He saw a snake attacking a frog by the side of the driveway, somehow managed to scare the snake away before it really got going (I guess), watched the frog hop away across the driveway, then found a big rock and beat the frog to death so that the snake couldn't come back to hurt it. He was trying to save the frog. I later saw the snake over by some of my flower pots, watching us and the frog. I disposed of the frog, talked to Levi about respecting nature and not needing to beat frogs to death, or any small thing that's doing you no harm, then started throwing rocks at the snake. I know. The snake was a tiny garter snake, but it was still A SNAKE.
Another day, my mom was rototilling in the front yard, God bless her, and she managed to scare out a much larger snake from under a rock, but it too was a harmless one. Nevertheless, it is still flip-flop season around here, and when we get home at night in the dark, I hop and dance all around the car to get the kids out and to carry Adelaide inside. I always manage to get Jed and/or Levi to walk ahead of me so that they scare anything off before I get there.
So despite my boring ramblings on the matter, the reality has been quite adventurous already! And I love it. The quiet, the views, the pitch black at night, all of it. Sorting through the chaos of the move and the many projects has been offset by the constant reminder that life is not all busyness and bottom lines. Sometimes it's just you versus nature. But we seem to be holding our own, as long as we keep fly swatters and heavy stones always at the ready...
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