Wordless Wednesday: Popsicle Face

Sometimes the mess is worth it!

For more Wordless Wednesday, visit 5 Minutes for Mom.

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A full summer weekend

Yesterday a co-worker asked me, “Did you have a good weekend?”

I automatically said yes, but then I started thinking about it. And you know what? I really did.

Annalyn stayed with my parents for a couple days, so I was a free woman on Friday night. Yesterday was Smitty’s birthday, so we planned a night on the town.

Of course, our “night on the town” usually includes Chinese take-out, a rented movie, brownies from a box and some good, old-fashioned Facebook stalking.

This time was different. We went to dinner and managed to stuff ourselves, even though we both ordered salads. (That may or may not have been the second course after chips and queso.) As we walked back to the car, we saw that we’d missed our early movie window.

I said, tentatively, “I know it’s hot, but we could go to First Fridays. You know, downtown with all the art exhibits. Although it’s hot . . .”

Strangely, Smitty thought that sounded like a good idea. [I should point out here that Smitty’s parents didn’t have air conditioning – or hardly ever turned it on or something – when she was growing up. So she’s more accustomed to ridiculous 95-degree days, even when they come in June. In other words, she doesn’t sweat like a linebacker. Unlike me.]

So, for once in our middle-aged lives, we drove ourselves all the way downtown on a Friday night. We managed to find a parking space and started making our way toward the crowd.

As we were walking up the street, I said something to the effect of, “Look at us. We’re cool.”

Smitty said I was not allowed to say that again.

We ran into an old friend [who said that her mom reads my blog and tells her every time I mention her!], checked out some great and not-so-great art and music, and eventually made our way back to the car. And its air conditioning.

Then we continued to buck our same-old, same-old Friday night habits and went to a late movie. Because Smitty loves Gerard Butler (or as his friends – and Smitty – call him, Gerry), we saw Bounty Hunter.

It was not good. But we enjoyed it nonetheless.

Finally, we called it a night, tired and pleased with our adventurous selves. Yes, I’m calling an art fair and late movie “adventurous.”

[Happy birthday, Smitty. You might have seen this coming from a mile away, but I’m so glad to have a friend like you, someone I know like the back of my hand.]

Saturday was eventful in its own way. Mark and I went to my parents’ house for a Work Day. My mom had the idea that before summer gets too hot, we should take turns working together on some of the pesky projects that just require extra help.

So, without going to bed after working all night, Mark helped my dad with a bunch of yard work. [Side note: Summer has already gotten too hot.] And I helped my mom clean out and organize her cedar chest and part of the basement.

Athough “helped” is probably generous. More accurate would be “kept her company and took three boxes of stuff home with me.”

And, oh yeah, suggested my daughter take her nap on the antique couch in the basement instead of her bed upstairs. Which resulted in an antique couch with baby pee on it. *sigh*

After we made our way home, Mark slept for half a day and then we all spent a few hours vegging on the couch. Unfortunately, this means that we missed church. But after three episodes of TLC's Moving Up, naptime and a trip to the grocery store, we were all feeling pretty refreshed.

Just in time for a BBQ with our small group. I know it’s a cliché to talk about great food and even better fellowship, but what can I say? That’s what we had!

Scott, our host, is an award-winning BBQ-er – and that’s no small feat in Kansas City! And everybody else chipped in with some great dishes, too. For my part, I made Jessie at Vanderbilt Wife’s “magically delicious” corn dip.

We somehow managed to get all the kids and husbands on the deck, so the four of us girls got to eat in relative peace and quiet, visiting and catching up. Then, as soon as we were close to being finished eating, the kids stripped down to their swimsuits and headed to the pool.

On Sunday night, we went to bed tired, covered in bug bites and wondering when we’ll EVER catch up on laundry. But if you asked me again if I had a good weekend, I could only answer one way: Yes, yes, I did.

Did you have a good weekend?

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Chocolate pudding pie: another lesson in the kitchen

When it comes to dessert, I have a few go-to dishes that I make. Most often, I make brownies (from a box, because that’s how I like them), chocolate éclair dessert or chocolate pudding pie.

Yes, I see a theme there.

A few weeks ago, we had dinner with our friends and their kids. The original plan was to meet at a park, let the kids play and let the husbands grill. But then the forecast called for rain, and then our friend had to go out of town, and I don’t even remember what else happened.

But we ended up spending our anniversary night at our friends’ house, guys and kids outside, women inside. We brought burgers and dessert, and my friend made cheesy potatoes and beans. And we spent a few hours catching up and hanging out.

When we left, Mark said to Annalyn, “I love you, Annalyn. Do you love me?”

“No,” she said. “I love Mallory [our friends’ oldest daughter].”

Apparently the night was a hit.

And so was the dessert I brought: chocolate pudding pie, with a new twist. At least, it was a new twist to me. Instead of the usual graham cracker pie crust, I went crazy and made my own Oreo crust.

I looked up a recipe online and read that I should crush enough Oreos (about 20) to make 1 ½ cups crumbs and mix the crumbs with three tablespoons of melted butter.

It turns out that works best if you don’t buy double stuffed Oreos. Guess what kind I bought.

So I pulled apart a few more cookies and crushed up the non-filling side, then added those crumbs to the mixture. It didn’t help at all.

I pressed the nastiest-looking Oreo mess I’ve ever seen into my pie pan, then went to work on the pudding part of the pudding pie.

I mixed one box of sugar-free instant chocolate pudding, 1 ½ cups milk and a couple of big scoops of fat-free whipped topping. Then I poured it onto the Oreo crust.

After it set up, I got real fancy. I chopped up four more Oreos and sprinkled them on top of the pie. As you can see, I only have a photo of the whole, uncut pie. That’s because it looked beautiful, while the cut and served pieces looked . . . less beautiful.

No matter how it looked and how the crust started out, though, that pie was tasty! I’ll definitely use normal (not doubled stuffed) Oreos next time and maybe go easier on the butter.

But really, you can’t go wrong when you add chocolate . . . to chocolate!

Do you have a go-to recipe for dessert?

This post will be linked to Mouthwatering Monday, Tasty Tuesday, Tuesdays at the Table, Tempt My Tummy Tuesday, What's Cooking Wednesday, Friday Food, Foodie Friday, Food on Fridays and Would You Like Chocolate with That?

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Saturday Review: season finales

You didn’t think I’d forget to talk about season finales, did you? I mean, I don’t watch Lost [insert shock and awe here], but it was still a big couple of weeks in the world of TV.

I’ve debated how to write about this. I even made myself a little spreadsheet to sort out my thoughts. [Yes, that’s nerdy to the max. No, it didn’t help. Yes, I just said “to the max.”]

Separate posts for each show seemed like overkill. I don’t want to seem like a TV addict or anything. (Ha! Like you haven’t already picked up on that!) But cramming all my deep thoughts (yes, about TV) into one post seemed impractical.

And so, I’m left with the only logical option: Make a big list and keep my thoughts brief. Okay. Well, big lists, you know I can do. Brief thoughts is another subject, though. Here goes nothing . . .

[SPOILER ALERT: If you aren’t caught up on your DVR-ed shows, just bookmark this crucial post and come back after you’ve watched your stories.] 

Ugly Betty (series finale) – I’ve confessed before my addiction to endings. So it should come as no surprise that when I heard that not only had Ugly Betty gotten a lot better than the season that finally drove me away, but it would be ending this year, I was back on the Betty Boat. I watched the last three episodes, and I have to say: I’m so glad I did. It was fun, and I loved the way they wrapped everything up in the end. I know it’s ridiculously punny, but here it is anyway: Ugly Betty went out in style. 

How I Met Your Mother – Sadly, I didn’t love this season of HIMYM. The musical episode was {yes, I’m doing it} legendary. And I’m glad Barney and Robin didn’t stay together. But overall, it was a little boring, and that includes the finale. I hope the gang is back to full force funny next year. 

Chuck – That. Was. Awesome!! Yes, the odds were good that I’d love the finale of my favorite show, but you never know. After waiting almost a whole week to watch it, I finally did – and it was worth the wait! Chuck’s finale resolved several big storylines and then opened another couple of big ones. I can’t wait for the fall! 

Castle – I really enjoy this show. Sure, it has a mystery of the week, but the snappy dialogue and the likeable characters are what bring me back every week. The finale was great, even though it left me frustrated. The two main characters – Castle and Beckett – have great chemistry and a solid partnership. So of course the audience is led into wanting a romantic relationship, and of course the writers denied us that resolution yet again. I know, such a cliché, but I love it anyway. 

NCIS – One of my very favorite shows, NCIS did not let me down in the finale. I love it when shows are faithful to their own history, referring to past storylines, relationships or revelations, and NCIS does this so well. The finale was full of action and development, but still left us with plenty of questions, including: How, exactly, can Mike Franks shoot a gun with his thumb? 

Parenthood – This new show is well-written and beautifully acted, and I just love it. The characters are raw and true-to-life, and while I don’t love watching all that fighting, dang, it’s realistic! The finale did a great job of wrapping up some storylines but leaving enough open that I’m anxious for next season. Parenthood is a keeper. 

Modern Family – Funny. So funny. The finale wasn’t anything special; a lot of reviews I read suggested the vacation episode would have been a better way to end the season. Regardless, this show is by far the breakout of the season, no matter who you ask. 

Bones – I love the idea of a year apart and starting next season one year down the road. Am I happy that Booth and Bones are headed to separate parts of the world? No. But I think it’s a good solution, a good way for them to deal with their feelings and confusion. All that said, I will not be happy if one of them brings back a souvenir on two legs. 

Community – Now that was a surprise ending! Okay, maybe not. If you’ve paid attention to the not-so-subtle clues the show gave over the last half of the season, Jeff and Annie’s last-minute clinch probably wasn’t totally shocking. Maybe even less shocking than Britta turning all girly and psycho and weird. Still, well-played, Community. Well-played. 

The Office – What is up with my formerly favorite shows having disappointing seasons? Way to go, Jim and Pam, proving the Moonlighting theorists right and making the show all boring and unfunny. Ugh. I’m not loving The Office these days and think they should call it a day when Steve Carell leaves.

I also watched Cougar Town, which is WAY better than it sounds (and the producer is even considering changing the name before it returns in the fall), 30 Rock, which is funny as all get out but still not must-see for me, and Big Bang Theory, which is crazy smart funny but unfortunately didn’t make it to my must-see list this year.

What did I leave out? Did you watch Fringe? 24? LOST? And how about that Grey’s finale?! Tell me all about your favorite shows and their finales in the comments!

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Thrive Africa Giveaway Winner

I have a winner for my Thrive Africa giveaway. [It’s about time, right?!]

Random.org picked #6, which was Amanda. Thank you all for entering the giveaway and supporting Thrive Africa!

Amanda, please send me your address, so I can get your coffee and mug in the mail!

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You didn't have to.

Last night I went to a goodbye dinner for my friend Kevin. Next week he’s moving to California for a new job. Between cell phones and e-mail (and Facebook, of course), it’s not like we won’t talk after he moves. But still. Halfway across the country is halfway across the country.

I bought a card on the way there and signed it in the restaurant parking lot. After speeding – and then, remembering my recent driving record, not speeding – down the highway and navigating downtown during rush hour, I wasn’t able to come up with anything sweet and touching for the card.

Apparently it’s harder than it sounds to transition from frantic to reflective.

Four of us enjoyed a delicious dinner at a Japanese steakhouse (Why haven't I eaten there before??) and then moved outside to the sidewalk. We spent a few minutes chatting and laughing, and then we hugged goodbye and left.

Just like that.

It was pretty much the most anticlimactic goodbye I’ve ever had.

It’s not like I needed tears and don’t forget to writes, but ending a farewell dinner like every other happy hour and lunch we’ve ever had felt wrong.

So today I’m writing my friend a letter. Because sappy, in-person goodbyes are highly overrated.

You didn’t have to return my e-mail six years ago.

And you certainly didn’t have to meet me for lunch and offer your advice on how to “break into” the public relations industry.

You didn’t have to interview – and then hire – me for the open position in your department.

And you didn’t have to teach me about clients and press releases and time management and reports and billing. You really didn’t have to teach me about billing. As in, you shouldn’t have.

You didn’t have to share your industry magazines with me, and you didn’t have to tell me about your days in “real” PR at your old agency.

You didn’t have to stand next to me when I got nervous at happy hours, and you didn’t have to hand me an empty to hold, so I didn’t stick out.

And then later, you didn’t have to forgive me for transferring out of your department.

You didn’t have to write reference letters and answer reference checks. You didn’t have to pass on job leads and listen to interview debriefs.

You didn’t have to get along with my husband, and you didn’t have to call my daughter adorable.

You didn’t have to keep in touch and go to lunch and read my blog and add me to your short list after surgery and tell me about your top-secret California interview.

You didn’t have to be my friend.

But you did, and I’m so glad. You have taught me so much about public relations, about business, about working – and for that, I’ll be forever grateful. Now, if you could only teach me how to land a swank dream job like the one you’re starting in a few days . . . !

You’ve made me laugh, you’ve listened to me whine, you’ve encouraged me and you’ve challenged me. You’re a true friend, and don’t think you’re getting out of that job description by heading west.

I can’t wait to hear all about the new job, the new home, the new life. Drive carefully. Talk to you soon.

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The Problem with Romance Novels, part two

We sat shoulder to shoulder in a tiny dorm room around a tiny TV, watching one of our favorite movies. Just as Johnny marched over to Baby and pulled her out of the corner, our friend Jared walked in the room.

As he took in the room, looking from one girl to the next . . . to the next . . . to the next, he said, “What is wrong with you guys?”

Blinking, we looked up at him and realization dawned. Every single one of us was staring at the screen with a [ridiculous] dreamy look in our eyes. It was like we were in a trance.

The same kind of romance trance I slip into when I read romance novels.

The kind where my eyes glaze over and I forget that what I’m reading is make-believe. It might be grown-up make-believe, but it’s no closer to real life than the magic fairies and flying carpets my daughter sees in Disney movies.

For most of my life, I prided myself on being “a romantic.” I dreamed of receiving gigantic bouquets of roses and daisies, song lyrics made me melt, and I pretended to adore Shakespeare. I ate up any hint of love – or what I thought was love.

But surely it must be! After all, my boyfriend – who eventually became my husband – gave me roses. And wrote sweet letters that included lyrics from our favorite songs. And endured a Shakespeare play amidst mosquitoes and humidity.

The problem is that romance novels (and romantic comedies . . . and fairy tales in general) don’t tell you the rest of the story.

First of all, most relationships don’t follow such a wild path, from meet cute to starry-eyed, tingling toes dates to dramatic tear-them-apart situation to brave, bold, courageous move from The Hero to heart-stopping kiss . . . and fade to black.

Sometimes, you just meet a guy and think he’s all right. Sometimes, you don’t necessarily have the hots for him right away, but he’s got a car and nobody else is asking you out. Sometimes you go on predictable dates and have uninspired conversations with a startling lack of clever quips.

That’s what my first (and only) romance looked like. So you know what I did? I created drama.

I overreacted to every slight and insult. I prolonged misunderstandings and vowed to make him pay for every twinge of hurt I felt. I sobbed while listening to “How Do I Live Without You” and wrote flowery letters professing my undying love until my hand cramped.

Honestly, I deserved to be dumped. But I lucked out. Mark either didn’t know any better or just overlooked my craziness. Because despite my adolescent behavior (for the record, I was an adolescent), he married me.

And that’s where the love story ends, right?

Not exactly. Even though, while you’re spending every waking (and some sleeping) second planning the most beautiful, special, wonderful wedding EVER, it seems like the wedding is the goal, it’s not.

It’s just the beginning of a true love story.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know anything about true love. I didn’t know about compromise and respect and trust and forgiveness. I knew about flowers and chocolates and surprise dates and grand gestures.

Imagine my surprise when married life wasn’t an endless parade of love notes and slow dances and secret getaways. Imagine my disappointment when marriage wasn’t what I expected, wasn’t what I hoped for, wasn’t what I deserved.

SCREECH! {That’s the sound effect for tires squealing.} Hold on! Why did I think I deserved such lavish and loving treatment?

Here’s why: a lifelong diet of romance novels (with a side of feminist influences and a mostly doting boyfriend) had led me to believe that I could behave however I wanted to and still get everything I wanted in return.

I developed a classic case of He needs to change. He’s the problem. I deserve better.

Now, I’m not saying my husband is or was perfect. But had I spent more time showing him love and respect, and less time coming up with reason why he didn’t deserve those things as much as I did, I might have enjoyed the first several years of our marriage more.

My grasp on reality and perspective on love didn’t change overnight. I started realizing maybe I’d had some things wrong when we visited a marriage counselor a few times. And things looked different after we watched several of our couple friends go through divorce. Of course, having a child changes a lot of people, and it certainly changed us.

And now, I have no desire to read a romance novel.

Haha! Just kidding. That’s not true. I still enjoy romance. Most the books I read these days – at least the fiction – are mysteries with a romantic aspect. And you probably won’t ever rip me away from watching Sleepless in Seattle or even The Wedding Planner on cable.

But I read and watch those things with a grain of salt now. Or, as my patient husband says, with a salt lick.

Because the love described in romance novels isn’t real. And it can be dangerous if you start believing that’s how things ought to be.

And that is the problem with romance novels.

Read the book and articles that prompted this two-part post (see part one here):

• Jane Austen Ruined My Life by Beth Pattillo
• Emotional Pornography by Pete Wilson
• The Dangers of Emotional Pornography in Relevant Magazine
• Does Fiction Rule Your Marriage? at Blissfully Domestic
• I See the World Through Rose-Colored Glasses by Sarah

What do you think? Can fictional romance be dangerous? How do you define true love?

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Life is like a kitchen full of dishes.

Does your kitchen ever look like this?

No, mine either. I staged this just for the purposes of getting a picture for my blog. Riiiiight...

Okay, so I may have mentioned a time or twenty that I don't like to clean. Of course, that's a ridiculous understatement. It's like saying the Hatfields don't like the McCoys. Or coyote doesn't like the roadrunner. Or my husband doesn't like Chinese food.

But I've decided that one part of our house that must be clean in order for me to not lose my mind: the kitchen.

Nine times out of 10, we enter the house through the garage. That means we walk right into the [open] space between the dining room and living room, with a direct view down the hallway - and into the kitchen.

If the kitchen is messy, cluttered with dirty dishes and half-empty packages, I feel like my whole life is out of control. The rest of the house could be picked up, but until the dishes are put away and the counters are wiped down, I feel out of sorts.

To a lesser extent (because I've built up a real immunity to its stress), this goes for the desk in our dining room, too. That's where all The Paper goes. You know - mail, bills, invitations and other things that need to be filed or otherwise handled. 

If I ever have a day when both the kitchen is clean and the desk is cleared off, I'm in house heaven! All of a sudden, our home doesn't seem quite so tiny and crowded. Birds sing. The sun shines. You know the feeling, right? A clean kitchen (and desk!) works for me.

What [completed] chore makes you feel like all is right with the world?

This post was inspired by It's Come 2 This, and it will be linked to Works for Me Wednesday.

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Once bitten, twice shy.

A couple weeks ago, I pulled into the parking lot at Annalyn's daycare and turned off the ignition. I pulled out my checkbook and leaned over the steering wheel with pen in hand. As I finished writing, I glanced up and saw dozens - no, hundreds! - of buds or leaves whirling around my car.

Then I took a second look. They weren't leaves. They were bees.

I have never in my life seen more bees. Except in that movie where the kid dies from getting caught in a swarm of bees. You know, with the Home Alone kid. And he dies? From bees?

[Side note that might explain me moving from calm to the edge of hysteria in about 17 seconds: My grandma is deathly allergic to bees. My dad has had a major reaction to wasps. And I had a crazy, scary reaction to a poisonous (or highly allergy-inducing) spider when I was a kid. So bugs freak me out.]

Whipping my head back and forth, I searched for signs that anyone else was alarmed. I saw a family sitting in their cars, casually pointing to the fit-for-a-horror-film swarm. I saw a mom, putting her child into their car, seemingly unaware of the dangerous bugs flying around, landing on her back and zooming into her car. With her child.

It seemed like I was the only one who cared!

Well, I wasn't about to open my door. (And oh my goodness, what if I'd had my window open when I pulled in? What if I hadn't realized they weren't leaves??)

I put my car in reverse, and while I wanted to completely flee the scene, I exercised some restraint and just moved my car to the other side of the parking lot. The safe side. The bee-free side.

Still, I had to use my wipers (and then the cleaning fluid) to get rid of the stubborn stinging devils. Finally, I felt safe to step out of my car.

Quickly, I walked inside, vigilant eyes darting around the whole time. I walked up to the reception desk and said, "Maybe this happens all the time {WHAT?}, but there was just a HUGE swarm of bees out in the parking lot."

I expected them to be at least as alarmed as I was. But they weren't. "Oh, yeah. We found a huge hive over there. We called the Orkin man, but they have to send a bee specialist. Apparently they have to be taken out alive."

Again . . . WHAT?! Kill those suckers!

Actually, that is what I said, verbatim. I may have seemed crazy at that point, but seriously? The hive is just a few yards from the playground. Where the kids - including MINE - play every single day!

I get it. Bees are endangered. Somehow, they're important to our ecosystem or some blah, blah, blah. All I know - and care about - is that they sting, they are dangerous and about 10 million of them were taking over my daughter's daycare.

It was the scariest thing I have seen in real life . . . since maybe ever.

I don't know if they've removed the hive yet. I asked a couple times later in the week, and I kept getting much-too-casual responses. I can't imagine that, in a school where nuts are not even allowed on the premises, bees are okay. It's so strange to me.

Even stranger is the fact that just a few weeks before this happened, my co-worker BOUGHT bees. To raise. In her backyard. On purpose.

And the other day, she sent us pictures of her bees, swarming all over their yellow hive, plotting the destruction of mankind, I'm sure. She was like a proud mama, all over her BEES! That she bought ON PURPOSE!

When I told my parents about this - the swarming bees at daycare, not my co-worker's weird new hobby - they were properly alarmed. My mom even said, "Yeah, we never did figure out what stung you that time you had such a terrible reaction."

I reminded her that, yes, we did know what got me - and it was a spider. As a matter of fact, I've never been stung by anything, I told her. Who knows how bad I'm allergic, considering my other allergies and previous reactions to other bug-type creatures.

With that in mind, I made sure to put bug spray on our grocery list - both some for our yard (which resembles a swamp, much to our chagrin and the mosquitoes' delight) and for Annalyn. Last year, every bug bite she got swelled up like a balloon - just like her mother.

Of course, when we went to Walmart to buy groceries, we walked about 14 miles around the supercenter without spotting a single bottle of child-safe bug spray. So I circled it on my list to find at another store.

When we finally got home from buying groceries, it was later than we'd planned. Mark said he'd unload the bags so I could hustle Annalyn through dinner and bath. So I got her out of her carseat and grabbed my purse, the grocery list and a few bags from the trunk.

As we walked in the front door, my hand slid across the glass - and I screamed. "Ouch! Oh . . . ouch! Mark!"

Yeah. I got stung by a wasp.

The good news? I didn't die. My throat didn't close up, and though my finger (my poor little pinky finger) is red and swollen, it's really not much chubbier than it started. (Which, no, isn't saying much, other than I didn't have a terrible reaction.)

I've been saying all weekend that celebrities better watch out, because since Gary Coleman and Dennis Hopper died, you know a third death is on its way.

Apparently crazy stinging insect situations occur in threes, too.

Have you ever been stung by a bee or wasp? Do you know anyone who's allergic? Did you like the movie, My Girl, or did you think it was as depressing as I did?

Image by qi.Thomas

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Becoming a crazy coupon lady

Look, I like saving money. And I never manage to stick within my grocery budget. Yet, somehow, I really have not been interested in becoming one of those coupon ladies.

Why, then, did I find myself at a Coupon Party on Friday night, learning the ins and outs of saving money on groceries?

Mainly because of the saving money part. But also because a girls night is a girls night is a girls night, right?

Even though I have rolled my eyes at my thrifty friends and their bragging Facebook posts more than once, I can’t help but be intrigued when they talk about spending $32 for $250 worth of groceries.

Intrigued . . . and jealous.

So when my friend Sarah invited me to a coupon party and offered to share the tricks of the coupon trade, I decided to go.

The offer of pizza and the thought of leaving my house by myself, on a Friday night of all things, may also have played into my decision-making. I’m just saying.

Because I read blogs, have a cousin who is big into coupons and learned about flyers and price matching from our babysitter, I already knew a lot of what was shared at the party. (Or, as I told Mark when I got home, “I already know everything.” Um . . . really, Mary?)

However, reading a post about using coupons or hearing how much my cousin has slashed her budget is different than hearing, step-by-step, how my friend buys groceries and saves money. I learned a lot of little tips and heard some great real-life examples that gave those things I’d read or heard more depth.

And hanging out with some new girlfriends was a blast! (When I left, they were talking about the possibility of a cooking club. And since my last attempt at that flopped, I can’t wait to hear if these girls are up for it!)

Mark and I are considering some changes in the next few months that will mean a much tighter budget. So even though the thought of clipping so many coupons I need a binder kind of makes my head hurt, I think I might be sliding toward the dark side. The coupon side.

The exciting thing is that I’ve got great women to learn from. My cousin feeds four young kids and a gluten-free husband on one salary. Our babysitter provided meals for her family while her husband was out of full-time work for several months. And the girls from last week? Well, between their binders and their envelopes and their systems and their “I consider this a job,” they mean business!

The internet is full of sites about coupons and saving money, so I’ll keep this brief. Here are the main ways my friend saves money on groceries:

• Coupons from the Sunday newspaper (Red Plum and Smart Source inserts, as well as Procter & Gamble insert)
• Websites such as smartsource.com, redplum.com and coupons.com 
• Blogs, including some of my favorites, Money Saving Mom and Deal Seeking Mom
• Price matching with sales flyers
• Drug store rewards cards
• Stacking coupons (using a manufacturer’s coupon and an in-store coupon)

Some of the things the experienced coupon ladies talked about don’t appeal to me. One mentioned “sneaking by” expired coupons, and I’m not cool with that. Another mentioned buying packages of Depends to get the “bucks” on her rewards card, even though she doesn’t know anyone who actually needs Depends.

But for the most part, spending a couple hours a week clipping, organizing and planning is starting to sound like a good idea.

I know. I never thought I’d be one of them. But I think I’m going to give it a try. Is anyone else thinking about jumping into the coupon game? Maybe we could do it together over the summer, offer each other some encouragement . . . or accountability . . . or a challenge. You know, whatever gets you going.

Who’s in? And who already coupons?

Image by BigBeaks

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