Party Time

What does this family do to have some raging fun on a Friday night? Well, it’s too late to schedule a sky dive, too far to drive out and tip cows, and we live in a dry area, so bar hopping is out. I know, let’s go to Sam’s and make dinner out of free samples! Yeah, that’s right up my alley.

Feel free to look up pitiable in the dictionary. I’m sure you’ll find a lovely pencil sketch of the bunch of us.

While I’m confessing less than cool aspects about myself (seriously, this was my idea, and everyone else fell in line at the thought of free cookies), I’ll also mention that the entire time I was there I was mentally calculating unit costs on every item I even remotely considered. And compare them to prices at the other stores around town. Yes, I can recall the vast majority of these figures off the top of my head, as well as the name of the kid from my 3^rd grade class who broke his collarbone playing pickup football. I’m pretty sure if I could free up those brain cells, I might be able to find a cure for… something. See, those brain cells just aren’t ready to be useful.

And so that’s how we kick off the weekend around here. Can’t you just imagine what the next 48 hours hold? (Hint: napping would be a good guess.)

The Intersection of Guilt and Frugality

Y’all know I’m the Queen of Cheap. I will seek out deals and bargains (and free stuff, of course) wherever I can. I’m not one of those super-couponers who can score 3 baskets of groceries for $1.63, but, man, those folks are my heroes. I aspire to that, inasmuch as I have time between keeping my daughter from climbing the curtains and my son from shot putting baseballs across the house. Sigh. Someday.

Occasionally, my fervor for a steal overtakes me and I end up with stuff I don’t need. It’s a sickness I’m trying to control, with varying success. Apparently, I’ve been buying chicken at every sale for the past 6 months and didn’t realize it. I can probably hold a barbecue every weekend this summer and still have enough left over to the president of the Bo Pilgrim fan club.

I’ll give myself a pat on the back for not going crazy at the annual kid’s furniture sale I’ve been attending for the past few years. This year, I didn’t have my worst enabler with me, and I’d been given a stern warning the night before (“We’re going to have to start putting this stuff on the roof, Julie”). Of course, when you’re shopping for 2 other people who couldn’t make it, as well as helping out your sister-in-law in her first at bat, it all balances out. Apparently, bargain shopping for others is just as much of a high, with the added bonus of getting your money back when you drop the stuff off. Sweet!

I’d like to think I’m somewhat of a pro at this sale by now. The first year, I showed up by myself in my Honda Civic about an hour after the doors opened. Little did I know I’d miss some of the best stuff (not that I knew what any of the stuff would be) and that I’d have to resort to origami magic to get the toy boxes and cabinets I bought into that tiny clown car. The next year, I dispatched my dad to stake a place in line. This turned out to be quite smart, as a few more people found out about the sale, and by the time I got there, a fairly long line had formed. Did I mention I was 8 ½ months pregnant? I just excused my giant self all the way up to my dad and dared anyone to elbow me. We filled both vans. Then there was the year my dad didn’t think he’s need to get there all that early. He was wrong. I got lucky, arriving at just the moment they opened a second line, so I got in a lot sooner than I would have (a lot sooner than my dad even, as it turned out). Another 2 vanfuls.

By this year, I had learned to bring my own supplies for marking my territory, to get there at least 2 house before the start (bringing appropriate entertainment and sustenance), and to go with a plan. I knew what I was looking for, what my folks (who had the audacity to take a vacation at just the wrong moment, gah) wanted, and what my sister had requested. My SIL showed up just a little bit after I did, and we watched the line grow, and grow, and grow. This was Friday. I’m fairly sure there’s still a line now, even though the sale ended Saturday. We got in and went straight to work, finding, checking, claiming (it’s first come, first grab – basically shopping roller derby). Our good fortune helped us find everything on our wish lists pretty quickly and without being run over (too much). We had a very polite under the circumstances employee write up our order sheet (she’s only been working there 2 weeks, holy trial by fire!), we paid up, and hit the loading dock. And then, the schlepping. Back and forth 100 yards from dock to car. 5 times. I think. I lost count. I’m pretty sure that counts for the daily workout.

Later on, as I divvied up the bill (since we had one ticket, I paid for everything and can now nag several family members for money), I noticed the numbers didn’t add up. Turns out we were undercharged. And by more than a couple of bucks.

Here’s where you probably think, Julie is totally reveling in this because not only did she get the initial Cheap, she got bonus Cheap! But no. That’s not what happened.

Because in addition to being the Queen of Cheap, I am also the owner of the Most Guilty Conscience in the World. Seriously. I can feel guilt for just about anything. Short of killing bugs. But just about anything else.

So yesterday, I called. I left a message on their customer service line reporting the undercharge. A very sweet lady called me back. She told me they had never received a call like that in the history of the company. SHE thanked ME and told me whatever price I’d paid was the right price.

So. Score for me. And really, score for them, because you know I have to go back next year. With a few more of my friends.

(Note for Next Year: suggest they have Starbucks cart in the parking lot. They’d double their profits.)

Ode to Starbucks

Dear Addiction-enabling Purveyor of Caffeine,

Thank you for the frappuccino. You pioneered not only the selling of extravagantly-priced coffee on every street corner, but also the turning of said coffee into a high octane milkshake substitute with a siren song of sugar and POWER. Your mad genius concocted a beverage even professed non-coffee drinkers will suck down with abandon.

Thank you for your spot on marketing team that decided to put said beverage ON SALE. For a week. During a time of day when I can leave the kids with their dad and enjoy your hipster ambiance without telling someone to stop touching things. (OK, so I went to a counter in the grocery store. But still, that’s just because I am far from hip.)

Thank you for appealing to my exhaustion, my sweet tooth, and my manic frugality all at once. You are the master. See you tomorrow.

Love,

Julie

Cheap and Crazy Go Hand in Hand

I’d like to thank my sister for giving birth on Wednesday, so that Friday was open for me to give Cheap a big, wet smoochie. Once a year, a kids furniture company in the area holds a warehouse sale, and there is precious little that would have made me miss it. If my dear sis had been in labor at the time, I probably would have asked to speak with a nurse for a professional opinion on when I absolutely had to get to the hospital, is what I’m saying.

The first I’d heard of this sale was 2 years ago (so, 3 sales ago), when my mom noticed an ad in the metro section of the newspaper. Since we were just finishing up construction on the playroom addition to our house, it seemed like a good time to look into furnishing the place. I think I leisurely took Sammy over to the folks that morning and drove on over, arriving about an hour and a half after the doors opened. Oh wow, did they have the stuff. Everything from bookshelves and kid beds to giant play kitchens and dollhouses. The prices seemed good, but I didn’t exactly have a basis for comparison. I bought 2 cabinets decorated like refrigerators (already assembled), a toy box, and 2 storage towers (luckily NOT assembled and therefore in flat boxes). Did I mention I was driving a Honda Civic? With a giant car seat in the back? Yeah. I had to tote each thing out to my car, and force them all inside like clowns at the circus.

Over the next year, I came to realize 2 things: I probably could have gotten a lot more stuff if I showed up for the start of the sale, and oh my golly, were there bargains to be had. I did research on the company’s product, especially the stuff I’d seem at the first sale. We’re talking 70% and better. That’s my kind of sale.

So for the next one, I recruited help. My mom and I concocted a plan. We’d send my dad to be a placeholder a bit early. I knew from before that you got a ticket that listed Your Number, which you needed to claim Stuff as your own. You flagged down a worker who would mark Your Stuff with masking tape and Your Number. Then, they’d write up a ticket, and you could go merrily about shopping without anyone else staking claim to Your Stuff. We had no idea how many people would be shopping, and we wanted the pick of the little. So off Dad went. I dropped off Sammy at preschool and picked up Mom (or rather, drove to her house, and we took her van from there – no more Civics for us). We were shocked when we got there and saw the line. I have no idea how many people there were. Bunches. Parking was a small challenge. The bigger challenge lay ahead – I was 8 ½ months pregnant at the time. But color me shocked when I saw a hand waving at me from the front of the line – Dad! Sweet!

I’m sure I annoyed a few hundred people by excusemeing myself up to the door, but I hope my girth gave some of them pause. Anyway, we got in, and I lost it. I started grabbing things and carrying them, hoarding Stuff until I could get the blessed blue tape smacked on them. But I wasn’t alone. I had 2 people with me who went just as crazy. To the point where we were worried that we wouldn’t be able to fit everything into 2 empty vans. But, seriously, it was completely worth the concern to have 2 vanfuls of awesome, well-constructed kid furniture for a couple hundred bucks. After shoehorning everything in, I was still crazy enough to start planning the attack on the next year’s sale.

And so, 2009 rolled around. Mom called to find out when the sale would be a few months prior so we could be ready (and pray that Sale Day and Baby Day wouldn’t coincide). This year, I had to take the kids, which I absolutely did not want to do, but it was either schlep them along or not go, and you know what route I was going to take. I came up with a scheme to send Sammy off to spend the night with my folks, so Dad could bring him to the sale (as placeholder #2), and I would bring Sabrina, who I would carry in a backpack (no stroller!). I arrived about a half hour early, and felt my heart sink. The line was even longer than the year before. I got parked, shoved the baby in the pack, and started dialing to see where my folks were in line. There were 2 lines this year, and I got in the first one I reached. Mom joined me, and the boys stayed in the first one. Also new this year: thanks to a fire code violation, they let in small groups at a time (very irritating to move forward a few places and see the door shut ahead), but we got in with the 4th group. I tried to be even savvier this year, and brought my own tape, like I’d seen other seasoned veterans do the year prior. Yes, again, the Crazy hit. Mom and I went nuts tagging Stuff until we were out of breath. We collected Our Stuff together as best we could, and looked out the window to see my dad and Sammy still not inside. But they joined us a few minutes later for another round of Crazy. We flagged down a ticket writer, checked out, loaded the vans (after a lot of schlepping by Dad and myself), and got the heck out of Dodge, all the while staring slackjawed at the lines that were even longer than the start. I don’t know what those people were going to buy. Everything was pretty much tagged at that point.

What a rush. My adrenaline was pumping from the moment I woke up that morning, and it didn’t let up until I got home with the goods. And now my kids have a newly decked out playroom, and most of the toys are either organized nicely or behind closed doors. And I’m already plotting for next year.

Not Exactly Diet Food, But It's Easy on the Wallet

For the past handful of weeks, every Friday, I’ve loaded up the kids to take a frivolously short trip to Einstein Brothers bagels. The reason: I had a free bagel on Fridays coupon. A free bagel every Friday, and it was reusable until last week. Of course I had to go. Yes, I was irritated by having to belt in 2 kids, drive down the block (OK, a little more than that, or I would have walked), get both of them out of the car for 2 minutes (lest CPS come down on me for leaving my kids in the car even though I could see them the whole time), and repeat the process for the return trip. But my love of Free trumped all of this.

I will admit a deep and abiding adoration for the bagels my cousin gets nearly every day in Claremont, California (I am so jealous, and now I have to get back there to visit, Lynne), which is only matched by my drooling desire for Rude Brothers bagels in South Lake Tahoe. Einstein Brothers are not that type of bagel, but there are quite tasty if you enjoy a slightly doughier circle of… dough. And the Free certainly takes it up a notch. And so I was sad on Friday to bid farewell to the Store of Inconvenient Visits (seriously, is a drive-through too much to ask?), and tried to console myself with thoughts about the evils of carbs and the gas I was saving.

And then today, like the sun after a hailstorm (literally – pea ice cubes all over my lawn last night), my joy returned. A new Free Bagel Fridays coupon. Through April 24. Come on, kids. Mama needs her bakery fix.