I’m thankful for my dog.

A little background: I was chased by three attack dogs when I was a toddler, and I remained terrified well into my teens. I wouldn’t go to someone’s house if they had a dog, unless they swore up and down that they’d keep the dog away from me. I was scared to go for walks, in case an unleashed dog might appear. No amount of reasoning, counsel or helpful advice made a difference: I was determined to be scared forever, and there was nothing you could do about it.

When I was 20, in college, taking a counseling class (that was part of my major), I learned something about my fear that I’d never seen before: it was crippling me from helping others. I wouldn’t go visit someone who was hurting if they had a dog. I wouldn’t pass out flyers for Vacation Bible School. I wouldn’t do those things and others, and I didn’t care what anyone thought about it. I felt I had a right to be afraid (and in some sense, it was a very normal reaction… just not the extent to which I took it).

I really believe God gave me the victory over this fear (it’s a LONG story that I’m happy to share via e-mail with anyone who’s interested). Short version? I now have my sweet, cuddly Peekapoo puppy who falls asleep on my lap while we watch T.V. and lets me twirl his ears for hours.

I’m thankful for my job.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may remember my job search, along with its stress, the questions, the uncertainties. I spent many an anxious afternoon wondering where’d I’d be over the next few months, job-wise. When I look back on that time now, I think how blessed I am to now have a job I really do love, a job I don’t dread going to, a job I don’t want to leave any time soon.

Specifically, I like my job because:

1. It’s a short commute.
2. It allows me to do what I always dreamed of doing: write.
3. It’s a career-building opportunity.
4. It’s more money than I expected.
5. I work with nice people.
6. I get to be creative.
7. I have a window view.
8. I got a raise 3 months into it.
9. My boss doesn’t micromanage.
10. It’s a specific, direct answer to prayer.

Thanks Giving

In honor of my almost-favorite holiday this week, welcome to an uninterrupted week of thankfulness at This Writer’s Wallet.

I feel bad sometimes, making the blog a little more personal than finance, especially with my recent “open letters” series. But you know sometimes certain things are worth doing. Thank you in advance for indulging me.

the rest of the weekend

After I posted yesterday, I did end up getting a ton done. In fact, this was probably the best Saturday I’ve had in months!

My brother and I went to Lincoln Park to try another pizza place: Chicago Pizza & Oven Grinder. This was our first non-Neapolitan experience, and it was crazy-good. Drinks, Mediterranean bread and pizza pot pie (as good as it sounds!): I paid $10.

Then we went to Swirlz, and he treated me to a Grasshopper cupcake. The woman who checked us out (the owner?) said we really should try the cranberry-chocolate, and we were unsure. “Oh, just give them one,” she told the guy bagging them. So I got two free (delicious! designer!) cupcakes on top of an amazing pizza meal: My total cost? free.

Fall is just ending in LP, and the tree-lined streets are lovely shades of deep orange and bright yellow. Maple leaves dot the sidewalks, and a chill was in the air. We walked over to Urban Outfitters just as it was getting dark, and I bought a great necklace I love: $19.62 (including Chicago tax).

Leaving the neighborhood, we headed to a big mall where we knocked out some beginning Christmas shopping: Crabtree and Evelyn for Mom ($19.26), a purse ($18) and a scarf ($18) for our great friend J and some snacky sweets for Dad’s birthday ($4) next week.

My kind of Saturday.

link worthy

When is A Good Time to Buy?

10 Cheap Ways to Have Fun

Saturday and Life

Earlier this week, I had a lot of plans for Saturday: sleeping in, going for a walk, shopping, cleaning, going downtown. I haven’t done any of those things, it turns out. I haven’t even balanced my checkbook or recorded my weekly pay.

Instead, my morning looked like this: woke up an hour later than usual, got ready, went to a funeral, came home and ate.

The funeral was beautiful, a true celebration of a life lived. It was also terrible, in that I cried through most of it as I watched the family members remembering and missing. X was 75. She died of cancer. She had four children, six grandchildren and a loving church family that she just joined 4 years ago, when she became a Christian.

A lot of parents of friends have died recently: my pastor’s dad, his wife’s mom, a friend’s dad, X (a friend’s mom) just this week. It has me thinking about life, about its brevity. It has me realizing my parents, my brother, my friends, everyone will die. I will die.

Personal finance is important. I know that. I intend to keep earning, spending and saving as long as I can. Yet. Money is not what is most important. I will not take it with me, and what will really matter in eternity is not how much money I had but what I did with it.

Open letter to the family of X

I am so sorry to hear about your mom (and grandma). The thing about death is it makes you realize this life doesn’t last forever. Sometimes we (I) forget, but when someone we love dies, we remember.

Imagine what she’s seeing!—hearing!—doing! now. Imagine no tears, no sorrow, no pain. Imagine being with Jesus and worshiping him forever.

Sorrowing and rejoicing with you.

things

During the same week that we broke up, just a day or two after actually, my ex gave me a bracelet from Tiffany’s. He wrote me a nice note about how he wanted me to have it, and when I thanked him he said he was glad he gave it to me. I looked online; it cost over $300.

I was wearing it today, thinking again how while the idea behind his gift was very sweet, the gift itself was so far from who I am, it makes sense we broke up.

He was all into price: our first Christmas, we’d been dating just a month or so, and he bought me an enormous (three trays full!) box of Godiva chocolate.  He reasoned that price = level of relationship. If you sort of liked someone, buy them dinner. If you’re in a relationship, buy them $150 worth of chocolate. And when you break up but agree to stay friends even though you know you won’t, send the robin’s egg blue box.

Like I said, it was sweet, and his heart was in the right place, I think.

But if he knew me, he’d know I’d much rather have a four-piece $12 box of chocolate than a giant one. I’d much rather sit and talk than receive an extravagant gift. This isn’t so much an I’m-so-unmaterialistic thing. I like presents. But I like presents that show thought more than expense. I’d rather get a $20 bottle of shampoo I want but never buy for myself (because it shows you know what I wish for) than a corral of designer perfumes worth hundreds. Anyone can buy the chocolate, the flowers, the Tiffany’s.

With Christmas coming, gift-giving is on everyone’s mind, it seems. I’m wondering what to get my parents, who have everything, or my brother, who likes nothing. Should I get my employees something? What am I giving my Sunday school kids?

And in the rushing, hurrying, planning, I forget what I’m gifting for: to show I care about them specifically. I think the holidays could use a few more heartfelt letters and a few less generic boxes.

How are you combating the commercialism of the holiday? Do you have any strategies for gifting to share?

Ethnic on the Cheap: Bohemian Food

The Background

Imagine. The six of us sitting at the round table, covered with a wiped-clean plastic pink tablecloth, O telling a joke, flirting with the waitress. In the midst of our glasses and plates, a small white vase works as centerpiece, with a carnation and baby’s breath inside. There are people all around the restaurant, many in their 60s or older, with a few children running around here or there. There’s a salad bar, I think, 1970s-style decor and a waitress dressed in the quintessential server garb: a collared shirt tucked into a skirt that hits just below her knee, suntan nylons, white gym shoes. Her arms are strong, experienced. O learns her name and will use it throughout the meal. He orders cow tongue, says it just like that, and we kids grimace. This, if you don’t recognize it, is my childhood. We’re eating out with family friends, an older couple who were like grandparents to my brother and me.

These friends of ours, no longer living, were originally from Czechoslovakia. They introduced my parents to a lot of things: summers in Wisconsin, fishing, supper clubs, Bohemian restaurants. Mostly, I remember the svickova.

A Lost Cuisine

I can’t understand why so many people today will do Japanese, Greek, Indian, Thai, Chinese—all in the name of ethnic—but have never tried Bohemian. It’s a tragedy, for sure.

Bohemian food is delicious—can I even explain? It’s cheap—under $10 buys you an entree, a soup/salad, coffee, and a dessert. The atmosphere isn’t much: you’ll probably feel a little time-warp when you see the pastels or wood-paneled walls in a lot of these restaurants; but the quality more than compensates.

What You Must Try

1. Svickova (pronounced Sveech-ko-vah): Pickled beef in the most delicious sauce. So tender, so soft, so completely delicious. Get it with bread dumplings to mop up the extra sauce.

2. Koprova (pronounced Ko-prah-vah): Similar to svickova, koprava is also pickled beef, but in a sauce that resembles a dill flavor. Again, go with the bread dumplings, not the mashed potatoes or anything similarly familiar.

3. Kolachkys (pronounced Ko-lah-ch-key): Remember, dessert will be included with your meal. They’ll probably offer you other choices like apple strudel or chocolate pudding, but try the kolachky. It’s a pastry-type cookie with jelly instead. There are all sorts of flavors; I prefer apricot or raspberry.

Where to Find It

I can’t speak for areas outside Chicagoland, though a quick Google or Yelp search should get you answers, but in my neck of the woods, do try:

Bohemian Garden (this link even takes you to a coupon)
Bohemian Crystal
Little Bohemian Restaurant

6 Things That Stink about Being Boss

There are a lot of things I love about being the boss. Partially, I’ve always been a bit of a control freak, so I like that. Also, I like getting a say-so, a voice. I like seeing my work do something, seeing things in the company change because of what I did. And, of course, I like having the big desk and the window and the pay.

But lest I paint too rose-colored of a view for you, let me tell you what I do not like about being a boss:

1. Being responsible for my employees’ tardiness (I’ll spare you the details, but this is much better now that we punch in.)

2. Having employees who will not listen (Nodding heads do not equal comprehension.)

3. Telling people to quit goofing off (Remember the study hall monitor? Yeah, that’s me now.)

4. Not getting the camaraderie with coworkers in the same way

5. Taking responsibility when an employee messes up

6. Swallowing my pride when I make my own mistakes

Back to the pluses, I’ve learned a lot (I think.. and am still learning) about leadership. I’ve realized how difficult it can be and how much harder it is to be the one to enforce than the one to try to get away with. MY boss told me that when he looks back on what he once thought were unfair bosses now, he sees they were just doing their job. I’m starting to see what he meant.