We don’t slug one another, but the competition in our van can sometimes be intense. “Slug bug yellow,” my five-year-old yells as we drive down the street. “Good eye,” replies her three-year-old brother. Not to be left out, our two-year-old keeps a sharp eye on the familiar side streets and parking lots where he can expect to see what has become his favorite car, the Volkswagen Beetle.
Since we’ve revived this game of our childhood, the iconic car seems to pop up everywhere. Of course, this is only because we pay attention to the passing cars, in hopes of adding to our personal slug bug tally. At least when it comes to slug bugs, none of us suffer from what psychologists call “inattentional blindness,” a term that describes an inability to perceive things in plain sight.
According to Professor Richard Wiseman, inattentional blindness often keeps people from recognizing the positive things in their lives. To demonstrate the effect of inattentional blindness, Wiseman gave people a newspaper and asked them to count the number of photographs in its pages. On page two of the newspaper, Wiseman printed a message in one-inch letters that read, “Stop counting, there are 43 photographs in this newspaper.”
Wiseman concludes that those who saw the announcement right away tend to be lucky people. On the other hand, participants who didn’t notice it are more apt to miss out on unexpected opportunities. In other words, Wiseman’s experiment confirms that people who carefully observe their environment have more good things happen to them.
My friend Heather is an avid radio listener, but she does more than just let the music wash over her. She pays attention, and when she hears about opportunities to win prizes, she calls in—and she wins. A lot. Her winnings include concert and movie tickets, a new Harley Davidson, an iPod, and trip to Hollywood, among other things. She even had an auctioneer give her a diamond ring once. When no one was bidding on it, he held it up and asked, “Does anybody want this?” She was the only one who raised her hand.
I tease her about being lucky, but she is quick to point out that she wins because she says yes to the possibility of winning. She dials the phone (and is brave enough to sing on the radio). She says yes to the auctioneer who is offering her a diamond. Though it’s easy to attribute circumstances to good or bad luck, Heather demonstrates how we often have far more control over our lives than we realize.
Yes good and bad things do just happen sometimes. But Wiseman encourages people to plug into the world around them if they wish to have more good things come their way. Luck isn’t found in a talisman like a rabbit’s foot or a four-leaf clover. Rather, luck is a state of mind, a way of thinking and behaving.
CCCS/ACCE –American Center for Credit Education
Carey Denman
Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
A Personal Investment in Education Brings Students Freedom and a Sense of Accomplishment
Many days, it’s a stretch to think about any of my children going to college someday. After all, I spend a lot of my time saying things like, “We paint on the paper, not on our face.” “Don’t put that in your nose.” And “Please get down from there.” Still, I know that time in the parenting trenches is fleeting and that college really isn’t that far away.
I’m reminded of this every once in a while when someone sees us out with our children and exclaims, “Wow. You’re going to have four kids in college all at once.” Indeed, if we were to pay for their education, we’d have to be saving a hefty sum already.
College tuition rates have been outpacing the rate of inflation, and experts agree that this trend will likely continue. Thirteen years from now (when our oldest is 18), a four-year college degree will cost an estimated $100,000, and this is a conservative number.
College will probably get more expensive for the next three children down the line, with costs coming in at about a half-million dollars for all of our kids. This is in part why we don’t intend to pay for their college tuition, but I wouldn’t say that it’s the most significant reason.
My parents gave me plenty of warning that I would be paying for my own education, giving me a lot of time to consider whether going to college was important to me. Once I decided that it was important, I had to know what I was willing to pay for it. I didn’t realize until later that paying for college would end up being a significant part of my education.
With encouragement from my parents, I did a lot of babysitting and cleaning during the summers, tucking away half of everything I made. Years later, I stood in the registration line in the college gym, my hand trembling as I wrote a check that amounted to all my summers of hard work. And I do mean all. I spent everything I had saved to pay for one semester of classes.
Seeing my savings vanish, I quickly found a job at a nearby restaurant. I donned an au jus-splashed apron several days a week and squeezed in a work-study job too. I was on a first-name basis with the staff in the business office at my college, which tells you just how many times I trekked up there to make payments.
Though it wasn’t always easy, the hard work of paying for college forced me to think carefully about how I approached my academic work. Whatever classes I took, I knew I would have to pay for them and for my books. If I skipped a class, it was like debiting money from my own account. Does this mean I was the perfect student? Not exactly. But the experience of paying my own way gave me a sense of freedom and accomplishment that I’ll never forget.
We haven’t started a college savings plan, but we are already preparing our children to think about the value of getting an education. More than anything, we want to give them the power to decide the shape and scope of their education. And if this means going to college, we will be happy to help them as we are able.
CCCS/ACCE –American Center for Credit Education
Carey Denman
I’m reminded of this every once in a while when someone sees us out with our children and exclaims, “Wow. You’re going to have four kids in college all at once.” Indeed, if we were to pay for their education, we’d have to be saving a hefty sum already.
College tuition rates have been outpacing the rate of inflation, and experts agree that this trend will likely continue. Thirteen years from now (when our oldest is 18), a four-year college degree will cost an estimated $100,000, and this is a conservative number.
College will probably get more expensive for the next three children down the line, with costs coming in at about a half-million dollars for all of our kids. This is in part why we don’t intend to pay for their college tuition, but I wouldn’t say that it’s the most significant reason.
My parents gave me plenty of warning that I would be paying for my own education, giving me a lot of time to consider whether going to college was important to me. Once I decided that it was important, I had to know what I was willing to pay for it. I didn’t realize until later that paying for college would end up being a significant part of my education.
With encouragement from my parents, I did a lot of babysitting and cleaning during the summers, tucking away half of everything I made. Years later, I stood in the registration line in the college gym, my hand trembling as I wrote a check that amounted to all my summers of hard work. And I do mean all. I spent everything I had saved to pay for one semester of classes.
Seeing my savings vanish, I quickly found a job at a nearby restaurant. I donned an au jus-splashed apron several days a week and squeezed in a work-study job too. I was on a first-name basis with the staff in the business office at my college, which tells you just how many times I trekked up there to make payments.
Though it wasn’t always easy, the hard work of paying for college forced me to think carefully about how I approached my academic work. Whatever classes I took, I knew I would have to pay for them and for my books. If I skipped a class, it was like debiting money from my own account. Does this mean I was the perfect student? Not exactly. But the experience of paying my own way gave me a sense of freedom and accomplishment that I’ll never forget.
We haven’t started a college savings plan, but we are already preparing our children to think about the value of getting an education. More than anything, we want to give them the power to decide the shape and scope of their education. And if this means going to college, we will be happy to help them as we are able.
CCCS/ACCE –American Center for Credit Education
Carey Denman
Friday, February 26, 2010
Life Lessons from the Garden
I have a growing stack of seed catalogues on my nightstand. I’ve been flipping those babies as though they are steamy romance novels, drifting off to sleep with visions of purple carrots and asparagus crowns dancing in my head. It doesn’t matter that I awoke this morning to a thermometer that registered five-below zero; I’m readying myself for spring.
It’s hard to believe that just a few years ago I was a complete gardening novice. Now I can talk diatomaceous earth and spot a flea beetle like an old pro. Along the way, gardening has taught me a lot about life. Here’s a sampling of the life lessons I’ve learned from my garden.
Live in the moment. As a northern gardener, my time among the zucchini and zinnias is short. The work of weeding and watering can seem daunting, but I have to stay focused on the fact that the first frost is always nipping at my heels. Sitting among the plants, bringing in flowers for the table and eating sugar snap peas from the vine helps me to immerse myself in the bounty and keeps me focused on enjoying the here and now. Finding the goodness in my current circumstances might not always come naturally, but even if it takes work, I’m happier and more content if I can practice being in the moment.
It is possible to have too much of a good thing. By mid-June, I swear we’ll all turn green from eating so much lettuce. I bring bags of produce everywhere I go during the summer, peddling it at work, among friends, and even at the doctor’s office. I promise myself every year that I won’t over do it when I’m planting, but I usually end up throwing heaps of bolted lettuce into the compost pile. I’d rather have less and enjoy it more, with lettuce and everything else.
I need to find time and space for my passions. I’ve found that a wagon strewn with animal crackers is an indispensable tool when trying to get the garden chores done. Babies that can’t yet walk are content to sit and watch, and the ones that can move never stray too far from the food.
If I waited for the perfect moment to get out into the garden, it would never come. When there’s hoeing to do, I have to work within slivers of time and sometimes need to use cookies to distract my children. The lesson in gardening and in all of life is this: If I love something, I need to find a way to do it.
Bad things will happen, but they don’t have to ruin everything. I’ve done battle with pocket gophers that strike in the night and grasshoppers that have set up shop in the radicchio. Unfortunately, I can’t seal off my garden from trouble that might come. I can learn to be thankful for the little victories (finally getting a tomato to ripen on the vine) and wonders (the droves of ladybugs feasting on aphids) that I see. My garden will sometimes disappoint me, and so will life, but I don’t want disappointment to shape my attitude.
Getting out into the garden and sinking my hands into the warm, loamy dirt makes me feel fully alive. And I’m so very glad for the opportunity to be a student of that little plot of land outside my backdoor.
Carey Denman
It’s hard to believe that just a few years ago I was a complete gardening novice. Now I can talk diatomaceous earth and spot a flea beetle like an old pro. Along the way, gardening has taught me a lot about life. Here’s a sampling of the life lessons I’ve learned from my garden.
Live in the moment. As a northern gardener, my time among the zucchini and zinnias is short. The work of weeding and watering can seem daunting, but I have to stay focused on the fact that the first frost is always nipping at my heels. Sitting among the plants, bringing in flowers for the table and eating sugar snap peas from the vine helps me to immerse myself in the bounty and keeps me focused on enjoying the here and now. Finding the goodness in my current circumstances might not always come naturally, but even if it takes work, I’m happier and more content if I can practice being in the moment.
It is possible to have too much of a good thing. By mid-June, I swear we’ll all turn green from eating so much lettuce. I bring bags of produce everywhere I go during the summer, peddling it at work, among friends, and even at the doctor’s office. I promise myself every year that I won’t over do it when I’m planting, but I usually end up throwing heaps of bolted lettuce into the compost pile. I’d rather have less and enjoy it more, with lettuce and everything else.
I need to find time and space for my passions. I’ve found that a wagon strewn with animal crackers is an indispensable tool when trying to get the garden chores done. Babies that can’t yet walk are content to sit and watch, and the ones that can move never stray too far from the food.
If I waited for the perfect moment to get out into the garden, it would never come. When there’s hoeing to do, I have to work within slivers of time and sometimes need to use cookies to distract my children. The lesson in gardening and in all of life is this: If I love something, I need to find a way to do it.
Bad things will happen, but they don’t have to ruin everything. I’ve done battle with pocket gophers that strike in the night and grasshoppers that have set up shop in the radicchio. Unfortunately, I can’t seal off my garden from trouble that might come. I can learn to be thankful for the little victories (finally getting a tomato to ripen on the vine) and wonders (the droves of ladybugs feasting on aphids) that I see. My garden will sometimes disappoint me, and so will life, but I don’t want disappointment to shape my attitude.
Getting out into the garden and sinking my hands into the warm, loamy dirt makes me feel fully alive. And I’m so very glad for the opportunity to be a student of that little plot of land outside my backdoor.
Carey Denman
Friday, February 19, 2010
Look for Pleasure in the Little Things
Our two-year-old has a severe peanut allergy, so we’ve had to call a moratorium on that staple of childhood, the PB&J. This has sent my two oldest children into a peanut butter withdrawal, of sorts. Recently, as the allergic one was off to the emergency room to get staples in a head wound (which is another story entirely), the others literally jumped with joy when I announced that they could have a peanut butter sandwich for dinner.
My three year old wiped away tears of concern for his brother and enthusiastically declared, “Mom, I’ve been dreaming about peanut butter.” He then bellied up to the counter and devoured two and half sandwiches with as much delight as peanut butter could ever bring anybody. (He probably would have eaten more, but we ran out of bread.)
My children often remind me how much joy I can find in the simplest things. They get giddy over press-on tattoos and mixing their own chocolate milk. A stick of gum and flavored lip balm elicit equal excitement. As I watched the boy who loves peanut butter eat his sandwich, I wondered when I lost the capacity for innately relishing small things.
It’s a gradual process, of course, fueled in part by a growing awareness of the world and the pressures and expectations that surround us. It’s also a result of being immersed in a consumer culture that proclaims material wealth and all of its trappings are a benchmark for success. We tend to ratchet up our expectations as our income increases. And somewhere along the way, I think this makes us less able to appreciate the little things,
Just because it takes effort to find pleasure in small things doesn’t mean you shouldn’t work at it. Try ending every day with the question, “What went well today?” Keep track of your answers in a small notebook; your entries don’t have to be any longer than a sentence. And every once in a while, review your list.
Stuff an envelope with $20 worth of $5 bills. Each week, take out a five spot and buy something that you enjoy. For me, this would include things such as an Americano and a truffle, supermarket flowers, or a new bottle of nail polish. My husband’s simple indulgences might include a DIY magazine and the biggest breakfast burrito he can find.
When you become purposeful with the way you spend this small amount of money, you’ll learn to anticipate good things. Holding the cash in your hands and thinking about where you’ll spend it can also help you to become more adept at making conscious spending decisions.
Joy also comes in paying attention to the things around you. It might be the sunset, streaked pink and purple across the sky, or maybe it’s getting up before the house is abuzz and sipping a cup of coffee in the morning light. Or if you’re like our second born, it’s in being ready to lick every last bit of peanut butter from your plate. Here’s to finding joy in your own version of PB&J.
Carey Denman
My three year old wiped away tears of concern for his brother and enthusiastically declared, “Mom, I’ve been dreaming about peanut butter.” He then bellied up to the counter and devoured two and half sandwiches with as much delight as peanut butter could ever bring anybody. (He probably would have eaten more, but we ran out of bread.)
My children often remind me how much joy I can find in the simplest things. They get giddy over press-on tattoos and mixing their own chocolate milk. A stick of gum and flavored lip balm elicit equal excitement. As I watched the boy who loves peanut butter eat his sandwich, I wondered when I lost the capacity for innately relishing small things.
It’s a gradual process, of course, fueled in part by a growing awareness of the world and the pressures and expectations that surround us. It’s also a result of being immersed in a consumer culture that proclaims material wealth and all of its trappings are a benchmark for success. We tend to ratchet up our expectations as our income increases. And somewhere along the way, I think this makes us less able to appreciate the little things,
Just because it takes effort to find pleasure in small things doesn’t mean you shouldn’t work at it. Try ending every day with the question, “What went well today?” Keep track of your answers in a small notebook; your entries don’t have to be any longer than a sentence. And every once in a while, review your list.
Stuff an envelope with $20 worth of $5 bills. Each week, take out a five spot and buy something that you enjoy. For me, this would include things such as an Americano and a truffle, supermarket flowers, or a new bottle of nail polish. My husband’s simple indulgences might include a DIY magazine and the biggest breakfast burrito he can find.
When you become purposeful with the way you spend this small amount of money, you’ll learn to anticipate good things. Holding the cash in your hands and thinking about where you’ll spend it can also help you to become more adept at making conscious spending decisions.
Joy also comes in paying attention to the things around you. It might be the sunset, streaked pink and purple across the sky, or maybe it’s getting up before the house is abuzz and sipping a cup of coffee in the morning light. Or if you’re like our second born, it’s in being ready to lick every last bit of peanut butter from your plate. Here’s to finding joy in your own version of PB&J.
Carey Denman
Friday, February 12, 2010
Make Purchases Based on What Brings You Value
Upon hearing that we have no television reception, my friend politely (and a little incredulously) asked, “What do you do at night if you don’t watch television?” This isn’t an uncommon question when people learn that we don’t know the latest American Idol news or have no idea what The Mentalist is about.
While we do enjoy watching television on occasion, my husband and I agree that we don’t find enough value in television viewing to pay for it. (In the sticks, the only way to get any channels is to pay for satellite service.) The same is true for cell phone plans. We get no service at our home, so we’ve opted not to sign a contract, and we use the pay-as-we-go option instead. It costs us $.15 a minute to make phone calls, but this encourages us to be intentional with our phone use.
Perhaps the notion of life without television or unlimited cell minutes unsettles you. Maybe you find great value in them; they enhance your daily life and contribute to your happiness—then by all means keep paying for them. The simple act, however, of running potential purchases through a mental filter that asks, “Does this bring value to me and my family?” may change the way you spend some of your time and your money.
One of our family goals is to live more with the money we have. When we use this credo to decide where our money goes, we opt to do things like get movies from an online service for $5 a month, rather than paying the $40 it would take to get a slue of channels. This allows us to choose movie titles that sincerely interest us, and we look forward to evenings spent at home together with a bowl of popcorn. In this case, we’ve found that we ultimately get more value out of spending less.
You may be able to afford to have a gym membership or a speedboat, for example, but being able to afford something doesn’t necessarily mean that it brings your life value. It requires money to haul, store, and maintain a boat that you may use just a few times a year. Could you find more pleasure in renting a boat a couple of times during the summer and splitting the cost with a few friends? As for your gym membership, it isn’t bringing you any value if you aren’t using it regularly. In fact, it may be causing more guilt than pleasure if you aren’t in the habit of going. Could you try enlisting a friend to walk or run with you a few days a week instead?
You have to decide for yourself what has value, on items big and small. Good chocolate is important to me, so I buy the stuff that’s 85% cocoa. Because I clean up messes all day long, pricier paper towels are worth it for me. I don’t skimp on trash bags or plastic wrap either, because I don’t have time or energy for fiddling with busted trash bags or plastic wrap that sticks to itself and not to the bowl I’m trying to cover. On the other hand, I buy generic medicines and purchase much of our clothing at secondhand stores—a particular name on a medicine or new clothing aren’t significant to me.
I encourage you to take a closer look at the purchases you make and ask yourself if they are resulting in a happier, more joy-filled life. If they are, then carry on. If they aren’t, what are you willing to change?
Carey Denman
While we do enjoy watching television on occasion, my husband and I agree that we don’t find enough value in television viewing to pay for it. (In the sticks, the only way to get any channels is to pay for satellite service.) The same is true for cell phone plans. We get no service at our home, so we’ve opted not to sign a contract, and we use the pay-as-we-go option instead. It costs us $.15 a minute to make phone calls, but this encourages us to be intentional with our phone use.
Perhaps the notion of life without television or unlimited cell minutes unsettles you. Maybe you find great value in them; they enhance your daily life and contribute to your happiness—then by all means keep paying for them. The simple act, however, of running potential purchases through a mental filter that asks, “Does this bring value to me and my family?” may change the way you spend some of your time and your money.
One of our family goals is to live more with the money we have. When we use this credo to decide where our money goes, we opt to do things like get movies from an online service for $5 a month, rather than paying the $40 it would take to get a slue of channels. This allows us to choose movie titles that sincerely interest us, and we look forward to evenings spent at home together with a bowl of popcorn. In this case, we’ve found that we ultimately get more value out of spending less.
You may be able to afford to have a gym membership or a speedboat, for example, but being able to afford something doesn’t necessarily mean that it brings your life value. It requires money to haul, store, and maintain a boat that you may use just a few times a year. Could you find more pleasure in renting a boat a couple of times during the summer and splitting the cost with a few friends? As for your gym membership, it isn’t bringing you any value if you aren’t using it regularly. In fact, it may be causing more guilt than pleasure if you aren’t in the habit of going. Could you try enlisting a friend to walk or run with you a few days a week instead?
You have to decide for yourself what has value, on items big and small. Good chocolate is important to me, so I buy the stuff that’s 85% cocoa. Because I clean up messes all day long, pricier paper towels are worth it for me. I don’t skimp on trash bags or plastic wrap either, because I don’t have time or energy for fiddling with busted trash bags or plastic wrap that sticks to itself and not to the bowl I’m trying to cover. On the other hand, I buy generic medicines and purchase much of our clothing at secondhand stores—a particular name on a medicine or new clothing aren’t significant to me.
I encourage you to take a closer look at the purchases you make and ask yourself if they are resulting in a happier, more joy-filled life. If they are, then carry on. If they aren’t, what are you willing to change?
Carey Denman
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