The morning is a bit chilly but is a lovely morning with a bright sun and a blue sky. According to the paper, today is supposed to be warm, 70°. I definitely need to clean the deck again so I can sit outside and enjoy the day.
I have to hit a couple of stores today, mostly for the dog, the cats and the birds. I cleaned the feeders yesterday and filled them with the last of the seed. While I was outside, a hummingbird dropped by. Gracie was lying on the lounge but sat up when she heard and saw the rapid wings of the hummingbird. It hovered a bit, and I was thrilled to be able to see the tiny bird so well. I hurried and added nectar to my hummingbird feeders. I hope it comes back to check.
When I was growing up, my mother always paid the bills. She used to have budget envelopes in which she’d place money every week when my father got paid. The envelopes were brown and were in a wallet like folder which I think I remember as red. On each envelope my mother had written the amount to put in and the bill to be paid. She also had a Christmas club at the bank so she’d have extra money for presents. Despite the envelopes and the budget, my mother always scrounged enough money for the Saturday matinée all winter and the ice cream man in the summer. On Saturdays, we’d get money for the ticket and a nickel for a candy bar. We usually bought candy which took a long time to eat like Sugar Daddies. In the summer, when Johnnie rang his ice cream truck bell, we’d run to my mother. Sometimes we’d get a nickel and that meant a popsicle while other times we’d get a dime which meant trying to figure out what we wanted. I know once in a while I’d get an ice cream sandwich or a cone, the one covered in chocolate with nuts on the top, but I also loved creamsicles and fudgesicles. It was always difficult to make a dime decision. The nickel decision was easy: a root beer popsicle. Every now and then I’d get a blue one, taste unknown, because it made my tongue blue which I thought was funny and worth showing the world by constantly sticking out my tongue.
When I first bought this house, it took half of my monthly salary to pay the mortgage, and I knew having little money meant I needed to keep a budget. I used regular white envelopes for mine and on them, like my mother, I wrote the bill to be paid and the amount to put in each envelope on pay days. I also started a Christmas club.
I survived those lean years, and at the start of every school year I made more money so within a few years I didn’t need a budget any more. I felt rich.
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