Okay, there’s really nothing fun about buckling down and getting out of debt. Or is there?

No, there can’t be; it’s a barren, joyless trek through sacrifice with nothing but denial and self-discipline.

Ha! Haven’t you guys seen Mary Poppins? Spoonful of sugar, baby. Our family has had loads of fun while working this debt snowball. In fact it’s forced us to find free & low-cost things to do together that we wouldn’t have sought out back when we were brain-damaged.

But this post isn’t about cheap things to do while getting out of debt. I’ve written about some of those already. It’s about one little thing that I’ve held onto and refuse to budge on until we’re debt-free.

I think The Wife is about to strangle me, but I am holding on to my broken, crippled and ugly technology until we are through this thing. In fact, I’m framing them like badges of honor.

A five year-old first generation ipod nano that was given to me for free holds the Dave Ramsey podcasts I listen to on the commute. Its face is so scratched you cannot even read the screen when the sun hits it.

A microwave with its guts hanging out, seriously. The push-buttons stopped making contact with the electronic keypad below them a year ago. I tried to repair it several times and finally realized that simply yanking the keypad out and letting it hang there was easier.

A cellphone in pieces. My poor phone was crunched a year ago and its flip-open hinges began coming apart. Over time its performance got worse and worse. The front keypad and screen failed first. Now the inner screen works one out of ten times I open it. The Wife hollers at me while watching me trying to get the thing to work, “Just budget a new phone already!”

No way.

You know why? Every time I can’t read that ipod screen, every time I grab that dangling microwave keypad, every time I want to text someone with that crap phone I am reminded of our goals.

It’s hard to forget you are deeply in debt when you can’t update your Facebook status (insert ironic, wry smile here).

I’m keeping all these busted things. They’re reminders of what we’re doing and why. They’re my iBadges of debt and I love them.

the Dad

UPDATE: A dear friend gave me an old phone from the same cell phone provider to use. The screens and keys work, but it’s old and awful… so I accept it.

© the Dad, Climbing Out, 2010. | 4 comments

Oh. My. God.

After ten months (TEN MONTHS!) of financial responsibility… no, financial PERFECTION, today I screwed the pooch.

Actually, I screwed the pooch more than a week ago when I ignored our budget and decided things were going even better than I thought they were… and gave away the farm.

October was a rollercoaster of events and by the time November rolled around I was really ready for a calm month and a nice fat snowball payment. No little extras popped up and The Wife even brought home a fatter check that we had budgeted for.

So when the end of the month rolled around and I prepared to make our snowball payment, I found more than expected in our checking account.

“Well, of course, it was a pretty good month, wasn’t it!”

So I sent nearly the whole thing off to our debt. Um. Enthusiastic, yes. Smart? Well, I left no buffer in our account and today we paid dearly for that.

Seven, count ‘em seven, items posted to our account before today’s paycheck went through. Seven overdrafts. Seven overdraft fees.

Overdraft fees.

We haven’t seen those in nearly a year. Had I stuck to our original snowball amount we would have been fine. What does Dave Ramsey say? “Children do what feels good. Adults devise a plan and stick to it.”

I went with my emotion, my excitement in paying off debt, instead of analyzing a situation that had obviously changed. For that we are paying dearly. Overdrafts at Wells Fargo go for $35 each.

The Wife was brave enough to go to the bank, apologize for her idiot husband and get them to reverse some of the overdraft fees, but not all. What a trooper.

There are some fundamental questions this debacle raises. Where was the communication between The Wife and the Dad? Why had the extra money not been addressed together in a budget committee meeting? Were the seven items this morning expected and if not, why not?

We will sit down together this weekend, hold hands and answer those questions, shore up our financial defenses and I will keep my debt-paying in-check. Seeing a negative balance, a negative balance, in our checking account today triggers a visceral response that nearly brings me to tears.

Today, I stand before you a humbled man. There is always tomorrow. Another month. Another budget. Another chance to get it right.

the Dad

© the Dad, Climbing Out, 2009. | 12 comments

The huge spot of missing hair you chopped off with kitchen shears in kindergarten, a pimple on the end of your nose as a teenager, the dent along the side of the car in college… some days we all plod-on hoping against, but nonetheless awaiting, the inevitable: someone to notice and say it out loud.

Living like no one else, paying off debt, spending less than one makes, all of it is supposed to garner a certain amount of ridicule and contempt. Yet thus far I found it almost easy to live with a plan, cut up the cards and look forward to a day of freedom from debt.

Today I finally got made fun of!

Not just a little criticism like the first friend faux pas, but genuine, point-your-finger-and-laugh, made fun of. I was starting to think I wasn’t doing this debt-free thing right.

To be fair I should note that a percentage-we-shall-not-name of our credit card debt came from work lunches taken in the past few years. I work in the kind of business where going out to lunch everyday (and taking clients with you) is not uncommon. Many a lunch was put on a credit card with a generous tip to be enjoyed by all.

When we started our Total Money Makeover in February eating out was one of the first things verboten. The Wife and I committed to leftovers and homemade lunches which caused a little concern for me at work, but I never took any flack for it.

Until today.

Bill filled his coffee cup and walked by my table in the employee kitchen. “Nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich!” he smirked loudly and kept on walking.

If only he had looked back. A huge smile burst across my face like a badge of honor as I turned to the colleague next to me, peanut butter and jelly in-hand, and said, “Finally!”

Way better than a pimple.

the Dad

© the Dad, Climbing Out, 2009. | 10 comments

The girls and I have just returned home from a grocery shopping trip. It started off well, but didn’t end that way.

The Dad and I have agreed on $110 per week for groceries. That may not sound like very much, but I think I shop pretty well, plus that includes $20 for our CSA veggie box. I make a list every week in my iPhone app that also keeps track of the prices of items, so by the end of our trip around the store there should be no surprises. Today, however, I strayed. I had inadvertently invited some friends over for a BBQ, so I bought some hotdogs. I promised the girls new chapstick. There were some items on sale, so I bought a couple additional things thinking I was using up the money saved from the sale items.

When we got to the register the girls proceded to unload the cart trapping me behind it. As we got to the end I asked the cashier where my total was–$113! Uh, um, ok, now what do I do? Put stuff back. She hadn’t gotten to everything, so I had her stop where she was. No tissue (toilet paper will do), no watermelon, one not two boxes of cereal…and the chapstick.

As soon as I got it down to $90 I paid–cash–and headed for the door. Daughter kept asking for her chapstick, I asked her to wait until we got to the car. Once there I had to break the news. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I had to put it back. I ran out of money. I couldn’t afford it today.” Oh boy! There was crying and foot stomping and yelling. I felt terrible. I was mad too. I wanted to buy it for her. I probably could have put something else back to make room for her chapstick, but with people waiting behind us I got nervous.

On the way home Daughter wanted to call Granny to “tell her what [I] did”. Ok. She called with tears in her voice. It was painful. Granny said she would bring her chapstick the next time she came to visit. Daughter was very thankful. I felt like I should go back to the store and return more items.

When we got home Daughter slammed the door from the garage to the house. Then she slammed the door to her bedroom. I don’t blame her. Daughter 2 tried to comfort her, but was turned away. So she went in to the guest room to sit and wait it out. I unloaded the groceries and tried to stay out of the way. On one of my trips in I heard chattering, Daughter 1 had gone in to see Daughter 2. Hmmm. When I was done with the groceries I peeked in the door. Daughter 1 said that I had not been invited to their game. Then she smiled. She smiled! I asked if I could kiss her. She said, “no, it’s not part of the game.”

I sat down to write this post and I was invited to see the cannons that were shooting at them. I held out my hand and Daughter 1 took it and led me back to the guest room. We played like we got shot and all fell to the ground giggling.

I do most of the shopping so I need to be clear about how much money I need to take care of this family. I need to make it clear how much I need for groceries and then what I need for non-food items that take up a lot of my cash: detergent, cat food, shampoo, etc. Today was a good lesson for all of us.

Sometimes you can’t take it with you.

The Wife

© The Wife, Climbing Out, 2009. | 6 comments

Oh I did NOT just do that. You are kidding me. There is no way I just plowed into the car in front of me, right? I guess every plan needs a good testing now and then. This is apparently time to test ours.

On the way home from work last week I was stopped behind a minivan, second in line at a light in my little Civic. The light changed, we all accelerated and I allowed my attention to be distracted for a moment. Half a second, I’m sure, but nonetheless… I glanced away from the minivan then back to find it completely stopped again.

Crunch. Arg!

What proved interesting about the events that unfolded after said crunching was the calm and peace that I felt once it was clear everyone was okay. “I have a baby emergency fund, I have a baby emergency fund. This will be okay.” kept going through my head. Followed immediately by, “Dang it! No debt snowball payment this month!”

It was a fairly slow fender-bender that did minor cosmetic damage to the van’s bumper and our emergency fund covered it easily. In fact, I’ll bet the quote they gave me will never be filled and they just pocketed the cash I handed them. I have a receipt for the payment, so enjoy the money either way, folks.

My car, on the other hand, is a different story. It’s “stupid tax” time again and I sure deserve it for my momentary inattention. The steam that puffed from the front of my car right after the accident? That was my freon. The air system in my little car is no more. No blower. No air; hot or cold.

We live in the high desert of Southern California. Winter nights go down to the teens and Summer days up to 120F. The quote to replace the broken parts is $900. Back-in-the-day I would have put it on a credit card without thinking twice. I suppose I could make an insurance claim, but we have a high deductable and it really wouldn’t be worth it. Thus the Dad is going back to 255 AC for a while — remember that on your first car? 2 windows down, 55 mph — while we save up.

The wonderful thing was the calmness and peace-of-mind our little emergency fund of $1,000 gave me. Standing there on the side of the road I knew that whatever needed to happen with either car or our insurance, we could handle it and we would not borrow money to do so. I am amazed how a few months on a written budget can bring such clarity.

So we put the debt snowball on hold this month and go back to paying the minimums on our debts. Instead the snowball payment will bring our emergency fund back up to $1,000 with a bit more saved toward the future repair. I expect it will take three full months to save the entire amount. Right to the middle of August.

The middle of August. In the high desert. Oh God. I did NOT just do that.

Yep. But it’s going to be okay.

the Dad

© the Dad, Climbing Out, 2009. | 5 comments

A self-fullfilling prophesy.

People have warned me that although some will support us, we will be faced with other friends and family members who do not understand a focused drive toward debt-freedom. Those people may criticize, mock or simply distance themselves from a situation they either don’t “get” or perhaps makes them uncomfortable.

I don’t want my own self-fullfilling prophesy so I have spoken with very few people about what we have begun financially. I fear a friendship will become uncomfortable or strained.

Sigh. A few days ago one did.

Friend X emailed several of us about getting together for a couple of pints at a local Belgian pub. “It’s not in the budget”, I responded.

“Wow, I had no idea things were so tough for you guys. Come on out and I’ll buy you a beer.” he said.

Great!

So we go and he asks me what’s going on. I tell him about getting debt free and the excitement of living on a paper budget for the first time.

Blank stare and the conversation moves on.

When the bill comes people throw down their cash and one of the guys looks at me expectantly. “Friend X is picking up my pint”, I say.

“What? Friend X has never bought mine.”

“Well, that’s when I thought something was wrong”, says friend X. “I didn’t know it was self-imposed… mumble, mumble…”, pulling back his cash and putting down his debit card instead.

Ugh. I thanked him for the pint and we dispersed.

A few days later friend X sends out a message to the same group again, “Who feels like buying me a pint today?”

I felt like crap. I don’t know if that was directed at me personally or not, but it certainly felt like something I thought was a nice gesture had become another debt owed. I wonder if he felt duped into paying.

This week I’ve got the month’s “blow” money in my wallet; about $30. Regardless of intent, the situation feels tainted now. I am going to return the “favor” and chalk it up to a lesson learned.

Skidoosh.

the Dad

© the Dad, Climbing Out, 2009. | 7 comments