Stine and I had an interesting conversation today about paycheck envy and living on less. As some of you know, Matt and I have been hit by the bad economy and expect our household income to decrease a bit. So this weekend, when we went out to a haunted house with Ed & Jen and Bob & Shannon, we did something unusual for us: we let Bob and Shannon pay their own way. Bob, being my much-adored baby brother, usually gets treated by his big sister, but those days have come to a sudden halt. And he seems to love me anyway. Go figure.
After the haunted house, instead of going out for a bite to eat or something, the six of us went back to Ed’s, ordered pizzas, played video games, watched bad 90’s movies, and hung out until an insanely early hour. In case you are wondering: I really suck at Guitar Hero, but I’m willing to practice. Oh, and in case you are wondering further: we paid for the pizza this time. Old habits die hard.
Saturday, Jeff called saying he and Lacey are free of kids and able to come over. Matt and I weren’t completely wiped out of food, but close to Ramens. But I turned my stubbornly growing tomatoes into sauce and made meatballs and tossed it with spaghetti, and they brought a movie and we had fun, even if Matt and I weren’t doing high entertaining. I even told Matt we should have pasta and friends night more often. Jeff, let me know when you have a sitter!
Sunday, Matt and I walked to the Mars and got a paper and I spent the afternoon determining who had the cheapest Halloween candy by us (Giant) and who has sales that might help out with getting a jump on holiday shopping, and (heaven help me) I clipped coupons and wrote down what is on sale at Giant. Pasta, 10 for $10. Though I’m not buying it if it isn’t whole wheat.
And the Ravens, Redskins and Rams all won their games, so me, Matt, Mom and Bob are all happy.
So anyway, Stine and I have been IMing a bit this morning and again this afternoon (her afternoon and night), and we talked about how the middle class sometimes stays in the middle because they don’t hoard their money, but might pay for their brother’s admission or buy a round of drinks for another couple or put together a nice meal for a friend, while we can’t think of anyone in the upper class who does those things. Not that I’ve seen, anyway. Stine’s line was, “It’s expensive to be poor.”
And I’m certainly not going hungry, nor will I. But it does renew my belief that there is enough wealth in this country for every person to live comfortably, but that it will never happen and wealth will always be concentrated in the hands as few, and they shouldn’t be forced to (nor will they) share. It reminded me of a speech by the flamboyant senator Huey Long (not that I think he was a paragon of politicians, but even a broken clock is right twice a day):
Wealth, poverty, and food. Stine said she wishes she could bring me a homemade meal and a nice Chianti, which was funny because I was thinking that’s what I would do for her – or anyone else – were the situation reversed.
I forgot to mention: the tomato plants yielded another basket full of tomatoes over the weekend, and I think I’ll give them a few days to ripen, then maybe invite someone over for a pasta dinner. It’s not fancy. But still, I’m feeling a little generous.
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