Lifelong Planning Counts

The account was dizzying.  My dinner guest, now 90, was not sure that she had the energy to use all the airline points she’d accumulated for a free trip to Germany and back.

Travel can be exhausting, she explained, and related her most recent trip abroad – at 80 – when she’d figured out a way to see an opera in Missouri on the way to skiing in Colorado, and then pack in a few days’ European vacation while her car was enjoying free parking at a hotel near the slopes. She flew back to the car, then drove home.

It was the most efficient vacation-planning I’d ever heard of.  Inspiring!  And far more impressive than my latest personal best – having the dinner table set and flowers arranged ahead so I would not be rushed, returning from a downtown meeting that afternoon.

Yay for the 90-year-old planners!  They give me hope.  A lifetime of practice fitting in one more thing will certainly pay off.  (And I’m sure she’ll figure out a way to use those points.)

Blackout Worked – At Least On Me

Refraining from purchasing on February 28 should not have been that hard. And I’m not sure that the Economic Blackout had as big an effect as its creators, People’s Union USA, had hoped.

But the effect on me was huge.  I suddenly realized that purchasing “stuff” was ingrained in my everyday life.

Whether searching the Internet for the perfect gift or running into the store for a box of crackers, I’m hooked.  And I like to think of myself as a “minimizer.”  In fact, it’s part of my professional life.  I run Unpacking Your Stories workshops where I encourage people to “rightsize,” go through their stuff and find the stories in it rather than hanging on to the stuff.

Still…my friend’s comment that she was running to the store on February 27 to “stock up” put me in inventory mode.  Did I have eggs?  Milk? Bread?  Was my tank full of gas?

I live in the city and am in touch with stores every day. I pick up a few things at Target or Kroger on the way back to the gym. I buy a few things at a time, so I’m not wasting. I often meet a friend for lunch or dinner.

None of this is wrong. But it sure does loop me into a dependency cycle, where corporate America is my new best friend and retail therapy is only a step away.

I’m not sure what news reports will say about the Blackout and maybe I should not trust them since, as my daughter points out, they are also part of corporate America.  But I can say this.  The one-day Blackout was meaningful for me. And I’m totally in on the 40-day boycott of Target starting March 5 since it’s backed away from DEI initiatives. I don’t know if Target will notice. But I sure will.

Lessons from Traveling PJs

With so much distraction in the world these days, I’ve been looking for sanity-saving strategies. I had not expected my old travel pajamas to offer any, but there they were – beloved and pitiful.

I had given up on them.  Hopeless. Gone.   Even one more trip seemed unlikely as the faded navy covered buttons popped off and hid under one hotel bed and then another.  And of course, Vanity Fair no longer sold the perfectly packable, washable, dry-over-night-able three-piece sets.

But voila!  While the rest of the world is reeling from tariffs and the dismantling of federal agencies, it occurred to me that this was a problem I could fix. I set out to find new buttons.

Let’s not underestimate the challenge. A trip to JoAnn Fabrics revealed stripped shelves – a condition described by the woman in sewing machines as “no one wants to work anymore,” and the checkout clerk as “they don’t want to pay for stocking hours.” A few days later, my local store hit the list of nearly 500 stores to be closed nationwide. Unwittingly, I was being sucked into bigger problems.

But not to worry.  Googling, I found “vintage” buttons online and with one false start educated myself that it was not the four-hole mother of pearl button I was after but instead the less expensive 11.5 ml blue resin “shank” button. Despite the fact that reviewers complained about the shade of blue, the buttons, quickly in my mailbox, were a perfect match. Since I bought a set of 20 for $2.99, I had plenty of replacements when they popped off and scooted under the hotel bed.

I am happy to report that while listening to a short audiobook, I removed the old buttons and sewed on 12 new ones. I have eight spares, just in case. Problem solved!  I feel suddenly empowered.

Ironically, the book – Claire Keegan’s Small Things Like These – offers its own strategies for surviving difficult times.  Among them, having a sense of purpose and showing kindness to others. Definitely worth the one hour, 57-minute listen.

Life Hacks From Uber Driver

When I called Uber for a ride to the Tampa Airport, the most I bargained for was a silver Hyundai that showed up on time.

I got all that, plus Edward (not his real name), a sunroof and more inspiring life hacks than a self-help book.

Seems that Edward had just paid off the car, which he bought not only for his Uber side gig and regular work transportation but also to accommodate the aging bones of his father, age 89.

He really wanted a Jeep, he said, but that wouldn’t do.  Too high for dad to get in.

After years of used cars with unexpected repair bills, he’d opted this time for a new one with a warranty so he could level his expenses.

He was socking away his savings for world travels in retirement.  He’d taken a look at the most affordable countries and based on the daily cost of living, he could exhaust his funds about the time he ran out of years – and still eat a lot of meals out.

Meanwhile, he was listening to Pavarotti on the radio.

And yesterday, he’d taken a blissful day off to celebrate that the car was paid off and that Hurricane Milton, which blew off his carport roof, didn’t destroy the car.

“We were lucky,” he said.

Lucky.  A word I haven’t heard much lately. It made my day.