It is a generational nightmare: we are a group of women who fell in love with Carrie Bradshaw’s blue shoes. A stunning cobalt blue satin heel with a delicate wreath of glittering hardware. A veritable f**k you pump. The proverbial glass slipper.
Loving these shoes is a stark departure from my normal style–I love comfort, Naturalizer, and an assortment of black! Maybe brown. Never blue! And never at $945!
Here you have the convincing power of film. "Something Blue," photo taken from the Monolo Blahnik for Bergdorf Goodman site.
So I started searching for a pair of blue shoes that would give me the placebo effect of the Sex and the City “Something Blue” shoes. I looked on Endless, and Zappos and Macy’s. Then I started getting desperate and searching at Ebay, Craig’s List, Amazon. Then I starting finding obscure shoes like Something Bleu and Milk and Honey and Butter. And desparation returned as I contemplated shoes from Etsy (never, never buy shoes on Etsy).
Something Bleu
Parisxox from Etsy
What I have discovered are some deliciously elegant shoes, a lot of shoes that feel awful when you actually put them on, and not a single beautiful shoe that I could justify spending $200+ to wear for one lovely day. So, I’m starting to think it might be time to search for something that isn’t achingly popular. Perhaps this?
In case you haven’t guessed it yet, David and I aren’t really of the religious nature, which means we’re not having a religious wedding, which means we’re not doing any kind of traditional pre-marriage counseling. However, as a member of the Church of Modern Day People Who Live Together, it was really important to me that we spend some quality time talking about our finances before we became all legal about it.
Our thoughts on finances so far have been pretty independent–we both send in checks to our landlord for one half of the rent, we take turns buying dinner, we pay for our own groceries (and competitively see who scores better coupons/deals), and we split most of our household utilities evenly. We’re long past the point of counting single dollars and more focused on equity.
Fact: Couples who argue about money more than once a week have a 30% higher divorce rate. -New York Times
But I wanted us to think about the long-term goals too–retirement, investment, paying off student loans and seeing if it would ever be possible for us to buy a house (read: city pad).
Off we went to USAA in Pentagon City for a session with Chris Lopez, a financial counselor in San Antonio, TX.
Chris: So, what are we planning for? A house?
A+D: Yeah, probably in five years.
Chris: Kids?
A+D: No! Well…maybe…in ten years.
Chris: Ten years?
A+D: Ten years…maybe.
Chris walked through all of our assets and debts, discussed life insurance policies, Roth IRA investments and long-term saving goals. Perhaps one of the best things we walked away with was a pretty simple budget worksheet; David has turned it into an Excel doc if you want to download it here.
Chris shared that he really likes his line of work because in one moment he can be talking to us and then the next, a couple who is twenty years further down the road. He can see where smart financial planning can genuinely impact someone’s well-being. Chris was surprised that we were a little indecisive about whether to combine our finances and he shared his thoughts:
“Marriage isn’t just a romantic partnership, it’s a business partnership. You both have to take the risk if you want to see the profit. So often when people come in here you realize really quickly that it’s not a money problem, it’s a marriage problem.”
A room with a view...
This was a great exercise for David and I and we’re lucky that our bank offers this kind of counseling for free with non-commission-based counselors who don’t need to sell us on anything.
If you do decide to combine finances, one of the best tips I heard was that each six months you should switch which spouse is responsible for paying the bills so that both partners stay in the know about your finances. Finally, here are some great, free tools on financial planning for couples:
We’re heading to New York tomorrow to celebrate our alt-family Christmas. This year we made a promise that we would chuck commercial holiday-isms to the wind and focus instead on recharging our souls and getting back to basics. And while I sure wish my entire family could be together this weekend I’m looking forward to spending some time with two of the most important men in my life, David and my brother.
We’ve booked a great hotel deal (thanks Priceline), we’ve learned just how much of NYC stays open for Christmas, and some of our friends have been kind of enough to steer us away from likely tourist traps.
We all have different expectations for our trip and I love just how distinctly we have all planned our days. Jesse is hoping to try ice skating for the first time at Wollman Rink in Central Park, and David is excited to investigate The High Line. As for me, I can’t wait to eat Chinese food on Christmas and make my way from one city restaurant to the next. In fact, you can check out our individual planning maps below.
My friends, I wish you all safe travels to the people that you love and who love you. I hope your holiday leaves you feeling both renewed and grateful.
I’m not good at gifts. But I do have friends and family who are really great at picking out just the right gift, so I know a little about what these “good gifts” should look like. This holiday here are my recommendations for meaningful gifts that provide warmth long after the wrapping paper is gone.
One of my favorite gifts of all time was dinner with my friend Lauren. She invited me and David to her house where she prepared a simple and comforting meal. That meal was the first time I had zuchini in seasame oil and it still remains a favorite. (image via Stay at Stove Dad)
It can't be all Netflix and cheap wine. I love theme gifts: movie tickets and gift card for snacks make for a great date night.
Was it a big year? Did they buy a condo or move in with someone? Consider a piece of artwork for the home. Coffee Print via Cutzman on Etsy
A annual magazine subscription like Lucky Peach makes the gift special all year long. (via Amazon)
Custom Home Address Rubber Stamp (via sweetpaperie)
Teach someone something new. Our CEO asked for my help in learning to tweet--probably more of a gift to me than to him, to be able to share this skill. (Social Media by ScissorsPaperMouse on Etsy)
Starting a blog or a small business? How about a custom logo? Business Logo from 66Works on Etsy
There are three stages of man: he believes in Santa Claus; he does not believe in Santa Claus; he is Santa Claus. – Bob Phillips
From Tim Rice Photography (Flickr)
I think that may have been one of the first times I knew David and I were meant to be. When I realized we both shared a sense of responsibility to people who have less than ourselves. Sometimes that plays out in politics or volunteering or empathy, but from that sentiment a holiday tradition arose–one of my favorite. One that defines who I think we are as a couple. One that I’m really proud of.
Each year, our holiday present to each other is to support kids whose parents might not be able to afford gifts this year. And we do it up big, the way our parents did for us. This year we picked two kids from DC Central Mission’s holiday list and headed to the store.
I’m not particularly girly, but I reveled in my 15-17 year old girl’s list: make-up, purses, jewelry, Seventeen magazine. She wants Hello Kitty? I can make that happen. I lost David as he searched (i.e. played in) the Lego aisles, found a regulation basketball and tossed a Nerf football in the cart for good measure.
The list asked us not to include clothes since those can be complicated and personal, but David and I struggled not to have a pragmatic gift among the collections. The Mission asked us to consider including a “bed roll,” so purple and green sleeping bags it is.
—
Last year we had gotten a late start, missed the deadlines for “angel tree” kids; we were both pretty down about making this mistake. On Christmas Eve, we went with David’s family to their church intending to help out in the soup kitchen while his family attended services. It was the first year that it really became clear that people in these lines were no longer just the truly destitute. These were people living on the edges of poverty, trying hard to keep themselves afloat.
While we were down there we learned that one of the families had recently lost their home and were living out of their car.
Three kids–teenagers–and their parents were living in a van. Each day the father would drive the kids to school before he took his wife to work and he went to the library to submit resumes and look for jobs. We asked what they needed and what they wanted. Their wants were their needs: toothbrushes, sweatpants, gloves.
We went to the nearby Kmart and bought clothes, jackets, pillows, blankets, toiletries. We got them gas gift cards and a gift card to Kmart so they could come back for more.
I have never been more humbled than when we returned those bags of things to the sleeping family. Two parents who were working hard to stay working, kids who were just trying to do their part by being kids.
I have never gotten more joy out of any other gift. Not even my Barbie dollhouse circa 1989.
One of my favorite holiday traditions is one that I learned from my mom. At our house, holiday cards surrounded the door frame from our living room into our kitchen. I always felt that when I walked through the cards that I was being hugged by all the people who loved our family.
The cards contained letters from my mom’s family in Missouri and awkward school photos of kids she had babysat. Sometimes the cards just contained a signature, and very much the same as now, I wonder why people didn’t share a short note of cheer. I loved the cards that had textures and ornaments, and the funny ones I would read to myself again and again as I passed by, laughing at the Christmas jokes. Over the years the number of cards grew fewer and I worried that people not care as much about our family. Of course the introduction of e-mail made that reason obvious.
Now I do the same thing in our apartment although admittedly it is also looking a little bare this year. I would gladly welcome your card to my “holiday hug” collection–and if it’s funny, I promise to chuckle every time I walk past.
Like holiday hugs, although our doorway is looking a little bare.
ShopHouse...still finding its sea legs, but I want to like it.
In the weeks since our fridge has been out of order I’ve eaten out a lot. Combine that with the rich fare of the holiday season and I’m feeling a bit nostalgic for comfort food. For me, that will always be Aloha Wok.
In my small town there were three Asian restaurants: one of them was probably Szechuan, one was Japanese and one was Polynesian–but they were all called Chinese. The polynesian restaurant was Aloha Wok. On the outside it was a dilapidated building in need of so many repairs. On the inside, an authentic 60′s style tiki vibe is replete with red plastic booths and bamboo. And Linda.
Wherever she is from, Linda Yang still lives and breathes that place. Thick accent, but always smiling. Glasses. I remember she wore a red t-shirt and black dress pants–the same every time we met with her.
Our order never changed: chicken chow mein, chicken fried rice, two egg rolls, duck sauce. On special occasions we had steak and pineapple skewers, maybe wonton soup. The order was prepared by Linda, but cooked by her husband. In the more than 20 years that our family ate at Aloha Wok, I never saw her husband emerge once from the kitchen.
It was mostly just them at the restaurant, and many times it was empty where customers should have been lined. Linda would tally your order on her manual cash register and you could pay with cash or check only. She would ask me about school, tell me about her daughter Ping-Jade and stuff an extra fortune cookie in the large brown paper bag for me. In high school I brought boyfriends there, she made them laugh and then she’d wink at me, “He very good,” she said. In my own way, I loved her. I loved her food. I loved her company. I loved the way that their heritage stepped through in every bite.
Lovely, oily tastes of crisp cabbage and carrots; large crunchy egg rolls (what are these wimpy spring rolls anyway?) and fried rice with peas still so green and real that I have never seen the likes of them again anywhere.
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A few years ago I went home in need of the meal, very much like I am tonight. I think my mom may have held some tears in her eyes when she told me that Aloha Wok had shut down. Business wasn’t good, Linda and her husband were getting older, having health issues. I’m sad I’ll never get to take David there.
I drove past the dark restaurant that season and felt genuine hunger pains for a meal of my childhood. A few months later, they tore the restaurant down completely.
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Tonight I visited ShopHouse, a sister restaurant to Chipotle (which I love, very much). It’s part nostalgia, but I wanted to feel like someone cared about the food–that it had a history somewhere, that someone stood in a room and built a menu that reminded them of what it’s like to feel full. It’s meant to be fast food and I know that, but I felt a real hole in my stomach for that missing narrative. ShopHouse, when you’re ready to find a story, tell me, I’m hungry to listen.
