Strawberry Bikini

When I was little I had a strawberry bikini: green bottoms (probably with a ruffle) and two red strawberries appropriately positioned to make the top.

I'm fairly certain that my bikini can be found in any one of the "vintage" clothing stores in Sacramento. It's too small for even your average sized vegetarian yoga teacher, it has fruit on it, it's primary colors, and you'd only wear it if you were 6. 

Finally I'm shopping... and these are the kinds of things available in the used clothing stores downtown. Call it "vintage," "retro," whatever the hell you want. It's really just bright, doll-sized, Cindy Brady-plays-the-fruit-of-the-looms-mascot ugly.

And where are these people during the day? Like, who wears these clothes? 

The white snap down dress (yes, snaps) in the shape of--and actually less stylish than--an old nurses uniform with mini green apples and pink unicorns sprinkled on it like polka dots.  Yes, miniature green apples and pink unicorns.

How about the canary yellow crocheted "dress" that would cover less than my strawberry bikini. If you're imagining something that could be cute, stop. It wasn't.

Or any one of the macrame vests with designs of flowers, christmas decorations, or, of course, fruit.

Don't think that I don't know cool retro when I see it. I know cool. My strawberry bikini rocks the fruit off of anything else in these stores.

Highly disappointing. And I must say, the new place across the street better get something in other than size 2 jeans and white Mossimo button down blouses--the other end of undesirable. (That totally sounds like an "or else" statement and I got nothin'....) 

What do all the cool people do with their old clothes???

The search continues. I have a little money burning a whole in my pocket. I'm aching for a new top. Or two. 

Can't a girl get something other than snaps and macrame?

Whoa

Great news:  shopping is not my only way to fill The Void.  There's also food, reading, writing and listening to music! Essentially, anything that will preoccupy the mind from feeling empty and create the illusion of urgency and importance.

On my silent retreat (which I've talked about so much it's like saying, "This one time... at band camp...") I had the opportunity to witness ALL of my vices in a number of different ways.

1.  The food was, for the most part, very yummy, very abundant, and very healthy.  Mid-week we had "cookies" at lunch. Eggless, wheat flour fiber-bites, sweetened with applesauce. Not my idea of dessert. As such, I found myself in the dinning hall during the last walking period of the night eating vanilla yogurt drenched in honey. Pleeeeease.... give me something to satisfy this longing for sweetness!

2.  At one breakfast about midweek they offered sweetened chai. (Waaay better than the cookies.)  I had one glass and it zoomed through my veins like a drug. Instantly I thought, "I need more... I need to go get more before it's gone."  The scarcity recording started... there won't be enough, you won't get your share, there isn't enough to go around.

3.  At the last sit every night there was a little bit of chanting. By the second night the chant was spinning in my head like a 45. It was lovely! I could chant along feeling oh-so-spiritual because these weren't words... it was an official Buddhist chant.  After several nights I started to realize that this was just another ploy of the mind to fixate on something and separate from the moment.

4.  No reading or writing was part of the renunciation of words that I was prepared for.  I get that these can be another way to retell (and root) the "story" of identity.  It can also be very therapeutic and purifying, but it's interesting to take away anything that one leans on strongly.

5.  My fear this year (same as last) was that I wouldn't remember all of the amazing teachings. I wouldn't be able to process the insights and they'd disappear. Nothing would stick and I'd come home unchanged. I even wrote in my journal (irony noted) that perhaps we don't remember something we're not ready for. Even if I wrote the words, they may not have meaning or power in my life.

In some way, all of these experiences reminded me of the same gut-clenching fear that accompanies the scarcity-motivated need to shop. 

Just a little light reflection...

On another note, a consignment store opened directly across from the studio. Coincidence? I think not.

Not shopping does not equal not spending money

Not sure why this seems like a new piece of information.

Random monetary updates:

• Went to Crossroads Trading Co last week and Allie, thrilled beyond belief to be shopping at a "thrift store," got two tops for a whopping $12.  Score.
  
• I signed up for New Leaf Ayurveda's weekly meals for $50.  Once a week I pick up AMAZING food that lasts me 4 days and I have to share with a friend in order not to waste any.
• I really want some glass containers to transport/store this food in (rather than plastic).  A rare yard sale find.  Will have to keep looking.
• Allie wanted to paint her room, so Ron went to Green Sacramento (what a good boy) and got her some Pale Sunshine.  It was a questionable purchase - not exactly a material thing, yet the can is waste to be dealt with.  I think he even snuck in a roller.  Minus one.
• I ordered two Yamuna balls AND the book.  It categorizes itself as a business expense. Still, it seems blatant.  Minus three.
• We got a new (old) bench and chair for the porch.  So cute!

I got this really strong hit yesterday that all of this stuff means nothing.  Not that all of life means nothing, but that the stuff - the couch pillows, the dining table, the super cute bench, even the precious photos - in the end will not have any meaning. 

Everything is on it's way to the trash (or recycler), it's just a matter of when.

Jen Hoffman teaches this in her brilliant Inspired Office classes.  It took a lot of pressure off of me about throwing something away.  It stresses me to think of sending something to the landfill... so, of course, not sending as much stuff there is the point of all this. 

At the same time, I have old stuff that I want to get rid of.  If I've used it in every way possible, and no one else in the whole world might ever want it (say, a pair of old undies that have been used for dusting, shoe shining and are ripped), it might need to go in the trash. Even if I don't do it, eventually, it will end up there.

The point is using something to the max, and then sending it on its way which might be a friend, craigslist, recycling or... the can.

You can't take it with you.

Uh, couldn't be more obvious.  However, to feel it like I did yesterday is different than hearing it your whole life.  I've been thinking about death a lot lately.  Mine and others'.  And it just sinks like a stone that as that moment comes, it won't matter if I have glass containers for my food or not.

What does matter?  What will matter in that moment? Isn't that what we're all trying to figure out.

Continued whining

Saving money does not seem to be one of the benefits of joining The Compact.

We had a wonderful weekend in Point Reyes.  Really, the weather was unbelievable, so much to do, and just to be in raw nature like that was so rejuvenating.

Plus, it was our "romantic get-away" weekend.  And it was.

But it would have cost less to stay home and go on a limitless shopping spree at Crazy Mary's the Apple store.

Not that we bought anything.  It's just that lodging and food and other miscellaneous necessities always exceed my planned per diem.

Well, we did stay some place nice....

And not shopping somewhere else is just as hard (or more so?) than not shopping at home. Like, I thought maybe the trip would ease some of my non-spending anxiety.  But no.

I purposefully did not go into a couple of stores that had fabulous things in the window.

And there was a little dilemma about what to get my mom for staying at the house and watching the kids (dogs and cats) while we were gone.  Thankfully, all she wanted was a seashell and I found one at Sculpture Beach.

Must note, though, that for Ron, the relief and contentment of not having to go into shops with scarves and coin purses and candles and silver jewelry -- all the things I love to leisurely poke around and debate about buying/not buying, which color/scent/size -- probably equals my utter glee of not having a tv for a weekend.

So in that way, we created more time for ourselves, more time to be together.  In a meaningful way. It was nice.

Our next "non-spending" spending is the Bruce Springsteen concert in San Jose.  We're staying the night there, too... but at the Super 8.

Avoidance

I love how creative the ego can be when it doesn't want to do things like meditate, organize tax receipts, or answer its own questions.

I am a very busy and important person and I do not have time to fess up to things like, "yes, I paid the extra postage and had two shirts I'd completely forgotten about re-shipped to me from Canada."

Oh, and then there's that bit about how I went on a girls shopping day and told my friends that I couldn't buy anything because we'd just spent $900 on vet bills.  Completely true (and nauseating), and not the only reason.

We're getting into some good stuff now.

So, yes.  I paid the shipping to get the shirts that I ordered before the 1st of the year.  It felt like a stretch of the rules, but not a break.

Then I got the shirts, and like so many other internet orders, they didn't fit, weren't like the picture and I sent them back (thank you double transport pollution).

If I'll stretch the truth for myself, why not for other people, too!?

Before Christmas a friend took me out to Granite Bay to this ritzy boutique with AMAZINGLY beautiful clothes.  I would be exaggerating if I said there was nothing under $100, but I'm getting so good at that, why not?

Seriously, most of the things there were $200 and up. 

But she was having a sale - 60% off.  And I bought several things.  Beautiful things.  On sale.

Still, I came home and after the buzz wore off, I realized that I can't play with those dogs. Those are big dogs and I'm a very little dog.

So this friend suggested that we get a few more women (other big dogs) and make an afternoon of it. The date was chosen. The dogs were excited.

As the trip got closer, Ron would ask, "Why are you going if you can't buy anything? Why haven't you told them about The Compact? Why do you think you can play with these big dogs?" All very good questions.

Then we had Cat Week.  

Stray from off the street who lost a fight and came to our porch to die (or so it appeared).  His vet trip cost us $300 and him his testicles.  "Un-neutered males are more prone to fighting." 

Ron named him Joe, and we thought we had ourselves another member on Team Feline, 11th Ave.... then the neighbor across the street gave him away.  Strange and a completely different story.

Several days later, our indoor kitty, Shiva, got sick.  She's awkwardly obese and never misses a meal, and suddenly she was not eating, drinking or cat'in around.  We waited it out a few days and ended up taking her in.

Of course they start with an x-ray because Shiva loves to eat string and dental floss.  Do you want to hear about the time I pulled some used floss out of her... ?  No, you probably don't.

No "bunching of the intestines" on the x-ray, so that was good. On to IV fluids and an overnight stay.  Jesus, how does it add up so quickly?

Isn't it amazing how I can avoid the point?

Anyway, even if we were not doing The Compact, I couldn't have spent any money on this shopping trip.  So it made for a really nice distraction and "better reason" for not buying anything than "oh, ya, I've chosen to deny myself simple pleasures of beauty that I deserve!" 

I don't know if I can get into the deeper stuff right now.  Like how there's either embarrassment about who I am (or am evolving to be), or a lack of faith in my friends, or how I wanted to quit the whole thing and buy this really beautiful top (I swear, this top would make me a better person...), or how watching my friends shop brought out anger and judgment (look at how catty and superficial they are!).

I just can't go there right now.  Maybe later....

In my dreams

Apparently this dreaming about shopping thing is just beginning.

Now I'm to the point where I'm just pissed off in the dream, ready to whip out my credit card in complete rebellion of The Compact.

Though... I have yet to process a transaction, so I'm still in the game.

In real time, two notables.

I don't go into Fringe anymore (why would you join AA and then go to a bar?).  She has too much cute stuff!  

And now they're carrying this more affordable line of shirts (remember what Annie Leonard says in the amazing short documentary Story of Stuff -- someone is paying for that, it's just not you).

Did I say that I haven't been in there??

So Ron was in there and I had to go in (to be friendly).  I didn't go any further than the jewelry counter (I didn't need to).

She had this super cool Buddha ring (is it bad to covet Buddha?).  

She saw me looking at it and pulled it out of the case before I could run away.  I said, "It's not used, is it?"  Like, in the "eeew" way.

And she said, "Actually, it is!"

And I clapped.

And Ron said, "Oh, Shelly got herself a new ring!"

I do love it, it was affordable, and it is "used."

Second item.  In talking about the second item I am admitting that I made some stock up purchases prior to Jan 1.  Let's call them preparation purchases.

I ordered a couple of shirts (actually, I don't remember what I ordered, which speaks to how much I loved/needed it), and apparently they were delivered to the post office and then never picked up. 

I don't like going to the post office.  I don't like going to the gas station, either.

So the post office sent them back.  The girl emailed me last week and relayed the situation.  On top of now receiving something (new) after the first of the year, I owe extra shipping.

Shit.

It didn't seem like canceling the order was an option, so I told her I'd pay it.  I didn't ask if it was an option.  Shit.  Maybe I should ask.

But I "ordered" it before the 1st.  Shit!

I'm trying to remember what it was.  Maybe I really need it!

On top of the 'receiving something new' dilemma, the impact of reshipping it is not very Compact-esque.  What with the environment and all.

Will report back.  I just can't make the call right now.  It's too much pressure.

It's Time

I've had 3 "experiences" around The Compact since we started at the 1st of the year, so it seems like time to write about it.  Four experiences, actually.

And, I've been resisting the blog "thing" for a while now.  Another good reason to start.

All of January passed with any close purchases, painful longings or feelings of lack.  

Then I had a dream that I was in a boutique and found, hidden under stacks of other clothes in a cubbie-like nook, a feminine, blousy tank top I'd been eyeing a for a while (in the dream).  My first thought was "oh, it's finally on sale!"  

That's when I remembered I couldn't buy it, and I woke up.

The next incident started with Allie wanting to switch out her old computer for my Mac Mini, which was orphaned when I got my new MacBook (clearly pre-Compact).  Her outlet was not the appropriate 3-prong deal.  

Of course, first response is to "go get one" at Hollywood Hardware.  

I was so proud of my man.  He uncharacteristically searched all drawers, cabinets, and the garage for an available adapter.  Nada.  But he did find updated outlets that we never installed in our old house.  

So, short of a tool belt, he pulled handyman rank and switched out the plug.  Whew, close call.

Then, as far as I'm concerned, we had a failure.  Allie announced in the early evening that she needed a sombrero for a school dance performance the next day.  Damn it!

This time, Ron didn't even blink... just told Allie to start calling party supply stores.  

I couldn't believe it!  But I played my role of silent fuming wife/stepmother brilliantly.  At least I didn't make a passive aggressive comment (or did I?).

So, the sombrero was purchased.  F!!  F-word!  We got an F, big fat F for fail.

Allie "donated" the hat to her teacher.  I think that was my Neosporin on the wound.

Then another dream.  Last night.

So it's this whole self-loathing dream where I'm perpetuating the "I'm not good enough" story. The events of the dream are not nearly as upsetting in waking hours as they are while I'm asleep and actually pushing the huge glass case over my massage client.

So I'm in my story and stuck in a pattern of self yuck and feeling sick about myself... and then I'm shopping.  There's a cute top (I'll spare the details) and I really want it.  I remember The Compact and I'm thinking, "Screw it!  I'm pissed and this is going to make me feel better."

I knew it before, but I really tasted this morning how I shop to feed, to fill, to numb, to escape. Not all the time, but I have definitely shopped in that way before.

It's empowering to not have the option.  Almost like a get out of jail card.  I don't have to have all the right things, the latest, this year's whatever.

I also can't just fill hole.

It's going to be a long and insightful year.