Moving Into 2025

The calendar behind me as I sit at my desk

January 2025 is half over already. I have spent the first few weeks remembering to write "2025" when a date is required on anything, clearing out (more) clutter, preparing for another year of volunteering, and, of course, reading. (It has been pretty cold lately, so my indoor reading time has grown.) Add to that activity a deeper dive (my toes are in the water at least) into our household finances, and that captures a lot of January at the halfway mark. 

On the clutter front, some progress has been made. Last week we took a carload of donations (household, shop, other) to Goodwill. Just this week, I (finally) emptied, recycled, and either disposed or saved three boxes (from holiday gift shipments), clearing them off the coffee table in our downstairs study (which is presently also serving as a holding station for Hyer Percussion). Gone, gone, gone.

Along with good friends and colleagues, I am gearing up for the 2025 Justice Bus season, which will begin the first Thursday in February. I am the attorney wrangler. I also advise. New to my mix this year is cooking. After hearing and seeing clients struggling with being able to afford food, we are adding food to the program. Just something hot and transportable (think crockpot shredded turkey, for example). We have always had "snacks" (granola bars, for example), courtesy of our wonderful community partner Andrews House, but after several of us talked about the situation in November and agreed our clients (and volunteers) could use something heartier, I said I would bring a crockpot with the shredded whatever in it and the buns. We'll see how it goes.

On the grocery front, because I put this in my end-of-2024 post, I will note that our "only buy perishables (or something on a really, really whopping great sale)" January is going great. As of today, we have spent a total of $23.33. I push myself to get creative with our meals: a shredded apple/carrot salad when we did not have any salad green in the house, for example. It was delicious. 

The apple/carrot salad

I mention the groceries because that topic ties into a deeper dive into our household finances. The combination of my updated prognosis, Warren's business ramping up, and some short-term and long-term expenses—a transmission replacement (immediate), traveling to the Pacific Northwest this summer (not that far away), a new-to-us car sometime in the next 3-4 years paying in cash to the greatest extent possible (long-term)—is leading us to talk about ways to start saving for those big ticket items and to run our household frugally so we don't get off track. Even the small wins make me smile. For example, it turns out that because we are both over the age of 65, we are entitled to a 25% reduction on our monthly City refuse collection fee, which just went up to $27/month. That reduction comes to a savings of $81.00/year. Combine that with our City now charging a service fee on all utility payments made by credit card, debit card, or autopay (cash or check is still accepted without a fee), but waiving the fee if you submit an ACH form to have the City pull the monthly bill directly. You bet I got that form turned in ASAP. That's $1.95/month savings: $23+ a year. Combine those two savers and we're saving over $100.00 a year on our City utilities. Easy peasy.

And that brings me to reading. As of Monday, my savings to date from using the library in 2025 are $308.78. I kid you not. Great savings, great reading, great life. 

A New Book

Photo by Olena Bohovyk on Unsplash

A few weeks ago, I was at my dentist's office for a cleaning. Blanche, my dental hygienist of many years, and I talked about my most recent Mayo visit. Her mother-in-law died of multiple myeloma a number of years ago, so she is familiar with the disease and has stayed on top of my health status. When she heard the "very, very stable" and "may well have a normal life span" pronouncements, she was overjoyed.

I told her my own feelings: yes, I (and my family and friends) am delighted. Beyond delighted. Having that new prognosis just changes so much and Warren and I are still talking through those changes. Blanche nodded as she prepped for my cleaning. I then told her about feeling as if I have been reading a large book, all the bookmarks fell out, and I don't know where my place in the book is anymore.

Blanche didn't miss a beat.

"Then it's time to pick a new book."

As I was checking out at the front desk, Blanche stepped back into the hallway from her workspace and called to me. "Don't forget, April. Pick a new book."

Sometimes it takes someone else to point out the obvious.

Pick a new book. 

I am not sure what book I am picking but the message fits me to a tee, both figuratively in my charting the way forward and literally (and somewhat tongue in cheek) as I start a new year of library receipts. Our library system, like an increasing number of them nationwide, lets the borrower know how much they saved by using the library, printing the information on the bottom of the checkout receipt. In 2024, I saved a whopping $4243.78 by checking out books (I rarely check out anything else). That is probably my largest one-year amount since the library started tracking individual savings. I went to the library just yesterday, both to return and check out some waiting books, and my total for 2025 is already $117.89.

Pick a new book? I can't wait. 

At the End of Four: Wrapping Up Groceries in 2024

Homemade Kringle

Wrapping up and looking ahead to 2025, that is. 

Well, that was a wild prediction on my part. Back in November, summing up our grocery purchases for the third quarter of the year and using a goal of spending an average of $200.00/month, I optimistically (and myopically) wrote we could still hit that average for the year by holding our spending to $164.00 a month for the final quarter.

Non-spoiler alert: it didn't happen. 

Didn't begin to happen. Our combined grocery (food and basic household items such as detergent and toilet paper) was—wait for it—$802.55, or $267.52 average a month. Of that amount, a mere $46.83 was for household items; $755.72 was for food.

For the year, our total outlay for groceries (again, mostly food) came to $2709.96, making the monthly average $225.83. The only reason we came in that low was because the 2nd quarter expenditures were lower because of my father's changing circumstances and some of the items we reaped from his house. 

But, more to the point in my mind, why was 4th quarter, and especially December so high? (December spending was $371.66—ouch.)

There are several reasons. One, I bake a lot (a whole lot) in December for friends, family, volunteers and so on. As a result, we spent a lot of money on supplies. In the spirit of full disclosure, I did deduct $60.00 from the December total representing supplies for baked goods (including Kringle) that left this house directly to the recipients. But we also bought items (some of which were very pricy) that I did not end up using for holiday gifting so those costs are in our totals.

One Kringle left home; this one stayed. (Yes, I counted it in the total.)

Another reason is that December especially contained some "splurges." Let me put "splurges" into context. A friend recently told me that she and her husband always had lobster rolls (one each) on New Year's Day; that was a long-standing tradition. So they had just purchased two pounds of lobster at an eye-watering $40.00/pound. She said they would get several such meals out of that amount and it was cheaper than going to a restaurant and ordering lobster (true that), but I winced inwardly at the $80.00.

Our splurges were a tad more modest. 3.73 pounds of fresh salmon "loins" (when did salmons acquire loins?) marked down 50% to $7.49/pound at Kroger (that will make four meals for us), and a whopper of a fresh salmon slab marked 50% off at Aldi to come in at $4.60/pound (another meal or two). Yeah, the Kroger markdown was still a big splurge. It came first and, because I watch salmon prices (I love salmon) and knew that Aldi had not been below $9.00+ pound for weeks, I felt we did well. (We did great with the Aldi one.) I will enjoy every bite. 

Another splurge (in November) was for a quart of vanilla ice cream at Whit's: $9.00. We had dear friends coming to dinner and I wanted the ice cream to accompany the apple dessert I had made. Totally worth it for the pleasure of the vanilla and apples. 

So splurging is an issue, but we watch ourselves even in that area. The other main issue, frankly, is the cost of food. We are pretty darn conscientious about our shopping and I watch and compare prices. But food is higher. A pound of butter on sale, and there were several between mid-November and Christmas, was $2.99. Everywhere. Last year: $1.99. In mid-December, I ran out of eggs (having stocked up on them in November through sales). No one had a special and I paid, gasping, $3.99 for a dozen so I could finish my baking. And these are what is now known as "traditional" eggs: not organic, not cage-free, not brown. Just eggs. 

That all being said, there were some hilarious (to us) saving moments in December. We finished off a bag of tortilla chips (which we had just opened, not an old stale one we had opened and forgot about), a small cube (frozen) of veggie dip, and two York Peppermint Patties (also frozen) that were left behind after we hosted a small potluck-style gathering in July. And walking home together December 31, Warren and I spied a runaway onion on a tree lawn a few blocks from home. 

The runaway onion

Of course we picked it up. (Turns out there were three others in the curb gutter that neither of us noticed. Walking home yesterday, I saw them, but they had frozen into the matted leaves and were not salvageable. Just had to let those go.)

And while this falls in 2025 and not 2024, I picked two mini candy bars from the bowl at our auto repair shop yesterday that we will take to the movies tonight. 

Two mini bars

While writing this, having just now run the numbers for the year, I am vastly relieved that, even with a very expensive December, our average monthly outlay for the year was $226.00 and not closer to the $267.00 for this quarter. Thinking about the higher amount, Warren and I had discussed cutting our grocery purchases 10%, or $26.00 a month, to get started on reining in the costs. Using that $26.00 amount, which we thought we could meet, maybe $200.00/month for groceries is within reach. Or something close to that.

A lot of folks out there are having a "No Spend" January. We tend to lean towards a "no spend" lifestyle as it is, so we're already aligned with that mindset. But we both agreed that an "Only Buy Perishables" January (short of some stunning sale somewhere: salmon for $1.00/pound, say) might be a good way to start 2025.

Here's to a year of grocery adventures. 

Holiday Decor

Our tree this year

Warren and I do not own an artificial tree. We don't go to tree farms in the area and cut our own. Instead, we go to a nearby nursery or other business that sells pre-cut trees, which is exactly what we did last Sunday.

This year's tree is tall and skinny and scrawny. My dear friend David, on seeing a photo of it, immediately called it a Charlie Brown tree, invoking "A Charlie Brown Christmas," which first aired in 1965 when we were growing up. It was dropping needles even as we were setting it up in the tree stand. 

Once it was upright, we brought up the containers of lights and bulbs we store in the basement year round. But as we started on the lights, Warren and I looked at each other.

"We have more lights than tree."

Sure did. So we put some of our strings of lights on the tree and put the rest aside.

Once the lights were on, we looked at the tree and then looked at each other again.

"This tree isn't going to hold a lot of ornaments."

Sure wasn't.

"What if we just put on 'our' ornaments?"

When Warren and I celebrated our very first Christmas together, we bought an ornament just for "us" to mark our new start. For the next few Christmases, we would buy one ornament that was special just to us. As time went on, we started to buy ornaments from our travels and experiences: Montana, Oregon, Mayo, Colorado. Other "ornaments" marked our years together: a price tag off of a outdoor sculpture we bought in 2020 as we climbed out of the pandemic, eclipse glasses (of course) for 2024. We keep them in a separate container, so we knew where they were. By the time we put "our" ornaments on the tree, it was full. Warren put on two small beaded garlands dating back to Ben's early years, and the tree was done.

Almost all of the rest of the holiday things—ornaments, family heirloom items, wreaths, bulbs, and so on—went back in the basement.  

On Wednesday, we were at Kroger to get my dad a few items and Warren saw that the outdoor wreaths were marked down to $5.00. So one of those came home to hang on our outdoor wall.

And the wreath. See the bells?

A couple of notes about this year's holiday decor that make me smile:

1. We bought the tree on December 15. That is the earliest we have brought home a tree in years. All the previous years, Warren's job as Executive Director of the Symphony, along with his playing percussion and timpani, kept the month full. December is still full for him as a timpanist, but there is no Symphony to carry. 

2. The tree was originally priced at $64.99 at TSC. It was marked down to $19.99 as the store looked to sell off its remaining cut tree. So basically that was a 70% discount.

3. The wreath was originally $19.99. so at $5.00, that was a 75% discount. It has two metal bells as ornaments, which will go into Warren's percussion holdings, so that basically was a bonus.

Our Christmas decorating this year raised for later discussion whether we have too much holiday stuff ranging from bulbs to lights to garlands. 

When is enough enough? When is too much too much? These are questions we will likely kick around in 2025 when Warren and I put away the ornaments and lights.

There is a Zen saying that "enough is a feast." I wrote about it years ago and I still have mixed feelings about it. I suspect some of my feelings arise from my continuing to volunteer in settings where for many, "enough" is out of reach. 

But in our home this year, we have more than enough. On the tree and in our hearts. And it indeed is a feast.

Good, Better, Best

Jaime's pie

The holiday concert is upon us this weekend. I always ("always" as in Every. Single. Concert) bake an apple pie for our close friend and conductor, Jaime, a tradition I started years and years ago. And this being the holidays, I make sure that I bake double chocolate cookies to go home for his wife, Oriana, as well as biscotti.

So Saturday afternoon I set about baking Jaime's pie. I had cooked the apples earlier that morning, so in no time at all the pie was in the oven. It came out and was cooling on the coffee table in our study off the kitchen as I made ready to put the first tray of chocolate cookies in the oven.

In short, all was well.

The rim of the pie crust had a few spots where the sugar wash had darkened more than I liked. Piece of cake, I thought. I'll just carefully cut those little nibs off with a serrated knife. Which is exactly what I was doing when the pie flipped off the cooling rack and upside down on the coffee table.

Holy smokes.

Never in almost a HALF CENTURY of baking pies have I ever flipped one off the rack, upside down, and out of its pan.

One smashed pie

The good news is that not one crumb or splatter went on the carpet.

The better news is that I had just enough peeled, sliced apples in the freezer to make a second pie. (I also had another pie tin, plenty of mayo, the works.) So while I defrosted the apples and cooked them down, I also kept baking the chocolate cookies.

The chocolate cookies

The BEST news is that Jaime gets his pie (plus the other goodies; the first batch of biscotti is cooling while I type this), Warren and I get smashed apple pie dessert (yum!), and, most important of all, not one single crumb or splatter landed on the bass drum that Warren has just finished rebuilding for the Mansfield Symphony. Whew!

Proximity of bass drum to flipped pie; it also did not splatter on the hoops below to the left

Good, better, best—you betcha! 

Little Bits

Here are three little bits in the last few days that made me smile.

The book and the bookmark

1) Yesterday I was reading Ghost Dogs: On Killers and Kin, the stunning collection of essays by Andre Dubus III, and a bookmark fell out. A previous borrower at the library must have put it in to save a spot. In light of my recent thoughts about bookmarks, how cool was that?

Grandma's measuring cup

2) This battered measuring cup belonged to my beloved Grandma Skatzes. I keep it—have always kept it—in the flour canister and its sole purpose in my life (besides reminding me of Grandma every time I use it) is to measure flour. I clean it...occasionally. (Once a decade, maybe? Longer than that? Possibly.) Given that it is only used to measure flour and does not mingle with anything else in the kitchen, I long ago realized it didn't need to be cleaned on a regular basis. I mean, come on, it's flour. This past Wednesday, while refilling the flour canister, I took a hard look and saw just how caked with flour this poor little cup was. A warm soak, a good scrub, and I can now head into the holiday baking season with my beloved, battered, and now clean little cup!

Grapes! 

3) Many of us buy markdowns at grocery stores; I know I do, especially in the Kroger produce section. Some of us "trash pick" when we see a pile of stuff on a curb that was clearly put out in hopes that someone will take it away. I do that on both sides: occasionally both setting out stuff and  picking up stuff. So, here's the question. If you pick grapes out of the neighbor's compost bin (which they share with us), is that trash picking or getting a markdown of a markdown? Our backyard neighbors, David and Ashley, often leave for Thanksgiving weekend to visit family. Being conscientious about perishables, Ashley makes sure that produce hits the compost so they don't come home to a refrigerator of glop. I had forgotten that she does that, so when I took our compost out yesterday to dump it in the container (the bin is from the previous owner of their house, who we also know; we share the bin), I opened the lid and let out a yell of discovery. GRAPES! Big, fat grapes! You bet I picked them out! I carried them home, washed them thoroughly (they were mixed with coffee grounds, which made for some interesting flavors), and am enjoying Every. Single. Bite. 

Bookmarks All Over the Floor

Bookmarks everywhere

My son Ben, starting in his early childhood and lasting into adolescence, collected bookmarks. Our local library had free ones that they rotated on a monthly basis, sometimes adding additional bookmarks for some holidays. Other family members, aware of his penchant for bookmarks, would pass along ones they had tucked away at home or that they came across during vacations or other outings. Bookmarks were inexpensive and found in every museum, gift shop, or other sites, and Ben acquired many that way. In short, Ben had a lot of bookmarks.

A. Lot.

I still have many of Ben's bookmarks, kept in a vintage popcorn box from our local vintage movie theater. As an avid reader, I always keep some at hand: one to mark my place in the book, and others to mark pages I want to return to for lines to copy into my current commonplace book (Volume 5). 

Ben's former collection, now my collection

So there are still a lot of bookmarks in this house. But the image of bookmarks recently rose to new prominence. 

In late October, Warren and I traveled to Rochester, Minnesota, for an appointment with Dr. Nelson Leung, my myeloma specialist at the Mayo Clinic there. My myeloma has been remarkably stable for over a year now and, after my June appointment with him, we were eager to have him weigh in with his thoughts as to my prognosis. 

The day before my Mayo appointment, my longtime dear friend Tani and her husband Tom (who is also a dear friend; I just have known Tani way longer) came down from Minneapolis to see us. I shared with them what we were waiting to discuss with Dr. Leung: where am I on the myeloma spectrum? I told them both, "I didn't expect to live this long! I'm not prepared!"

Tani laughed. "You'll just have to learn to be a little old lady like me!" (For the record, I am SIX MONTHS older than Tani.) We all laughed.

I was not exaggerating when I said "I didn't expect to live this long! I'm not prepared!" When I was diagnosed with myeloma in November, 2004, the average lifespan post-diagnosis was five years. Five. Seven to ten years was a stretch. And while my then (and still now) local oncologist Tim emphasized at our very first meeting "to pay no attention to the stats, because everyone is different," I nonetheless knew what the stats were. I just hoped I got enough time to see my youngest son, Sam, who was then 14, make it to age of majority. 

In the years that followed my diagnosis, there were up and downs, including the 2005 tandem stem cell transplants that failed in 90 days (which, as I learned years later from Dr. Leung, was a red flag marker for likely dying within the next 18 months post-failure), treatments that did nothing for me or set me back, and so. Just life in Cancerland.

So I never planned on reaching 20 years out. Ever.

That afternoon at Mayo, Warren and I waited for Dr. Leung to come into the examining room. And when he came in and we talked and asked questions and received answers and shared other information and talked some more, his bottom line emerged: I am very, very stable. So stable that I will not resume treatment in the foreseeable future, so stable that I can step back from labs every 4 weeks (when I see Tim), so stable that I can step back from going to Mayo so frequently, so stable that I can step back from...Cancerland.

Myeloma is incurable, period. But sometimes a patient will be so stable that it is almost like living without myeloma. (And, I do have two other myeloma-related blood disorders, but they too are very stable.)

All three of us were laughing and exclaiming and a little teary. I then blurted out to Dr. Leung what I had just said to Tani the day before: "This is great but I never planned to be 68 years old!" 

Dr. Leung laughed that another patient, also doing unexpectedly well, joked that he would have been more careful with his money management had he known.

I shook my head. "No, I'm not talking about my finances. I mean, I never expected to live this long and I don't know what to do."

Before Dr. Leung could reply, the perfect image came to mind.

"It's like I have been reading a big book, marking places as I go, then dropped it and all the bookmarks fell out. I don't know where all the bookmarks go!"

I am not sure I yet know where the bookmarks all go. After all, it's only been a month since that new prognosis arrived and it is still sinking in. Wherever I am in my book, I do know there have already been far more chapters than I ever expected back when Tim first diagnosed me. 

Bookmarks all over the floor. Trust me, it's a good problem to have.