Technology and entertainment making us unhappy?

A friend recently recounted over dinner in our home that he could remember sitting around with family late into the evening, soaking up long, rambling conversations with a clay roofing tile on his leg and a hammer in his hand–shelling walnuts.  For him, this was a happy memory.  And then he pointed out,

Try taking away my grand daughter’s cell phone and making her sit up with the old folks all night shelling walnuts.  We’ll just see what happens . . .

Times have certainly changed.   Every day, I hear people questioning whether the global economy will allow us to sustain our love affair with cable, 24-hour TV, cell phones, internet. . .and whether we wouldn’t be better off without them.

Gadgets, toys and disposable income–inversely related to connections with people?

Are we, as Putnam once argued in Bowling Alone, experiencing a loss in ’social capital’ due to the various opportunities to ‘plug in’ to some form of technology or entertainment? Putnam’s book of course, focused on a predicament in the US, fretting over the lack of people involved in social organizations.   Notably, that book was written from a US perspective, still, I hear people worrying in France about the same issues.

Can technologies and gadgets actually connect people? Think of the last time you saw a teenager free to use his/her cellphone at will.  It’s almost as if they’ve created a means in which they can stay in constant contact with others.  Internet can be used in much the same way.  Look at blogging, for example!  Here I am, typing up my ideas and engaging others out there in a conversation.  I ‘meet’ people all over the world, read what they have to say, get to know their way of thinking and their perspective on life, jump into discussions.  I may not be seeing these people face to face, but you cannot argue with the social nature of this media.

Is our disposable income and our use of technology taking away from real relationships? It’s hard for me to say.  I can certainly think of some examples of people I know for whom this is true.  They come home from work and turn on the TV or log into a video game and don’t look up again.  This hardly teaches a person to relate to others.  It hardly forges connections.  Then again, use of technology hardly has to mean avoiding social situations to the kind of extremes I’ve just mentioned. . .

Would a reduction in standard of living break our addiction to technology, making us . . .happier??

Would a sudden drop in income lead you to abandon some of your technological pastimes? In our recent discussion on where to cut back in a pinch, many people pointed to cable, cell phones and other ‘gadgets’ as their first line of cuts.  So I suppose a sudden decline in standard of living might limit purchase and use of these technological commodities.
Would a sudden drop in time spend with electronics and entertainment make you a happier person? I must admit that I actually dread my cell phone.  I can’t really get used to it.  I have no desire to be in constant contact with people who are not actually with me.  I also have grown shockingly weary of social media like Facebook–I initially enjoyed it as a way to keep in touch with friends while living abroad, but really I find myself unable to keep up with the Vampire Wars and the virtual lives of others.  Still, I enjoy the internet and am addicted to the fact that if a strange question pops into my mind, I can dig around and find an answer.  And I do enjoy blogging and reading blogs.

But with the suddenly beautiful weather and springtime in the Alps, I’m reminded that I can be happy for days on end without technology.

What do you think?

Do you think we will be forced to cut back on consumption of technology and entertainment in days to come?  Will it make us better, happier people??

Weekly Post Picks:

I may be a little behind in my posting, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a few great blog posts to share with you this week.  Enjoy:

On Funny about Money: an interesting article on unemployment, political polarization as major threats to the US economy in United We Stand

Consciously Frugal asks Are you Wealthy? and gives us a Global Perspective.

On Canadian Dream: Free at 45, Dave wonders whether gambling on sports team would be a better bet than Playing the Stock Market.

From Laura at Move to Portugal, we get a budget primer in How we work that: budget.

And Lean Life Coach from Eliminate the Muda ponders the topic of alternative Retirement Dwellings in this interesting economy.

Where would you pinch pennies if you had to?

What if your income suddenly shrank a few sizes? Do you have any clearly identified luxuries that would be first on your list of items to go?  Or would you have to scour an already streamlined budget to get by?

I’ve been asking myself these questions lately as the French media and the French population mull over various ways the government could control its debt. In recent light of the Greek crisis, responsible solutions promoted usually involve cutting spending (raising costs to average people) or raising taxes income and sales tax. . . or both.  Of course, there will be squabbling about where to make cuts and plenty of political battles, yet one thing seems certain: here in France, spending power looks like its going to go down–again.

I’m curious to know if the mood in the States is the same–if people are resigned to pinching pennies to help pay down the government debt. I follow US news, but I haven’t noticed the same ruminations about a coming “tightening of the belts.”  Perhaps Stateside, people are holding out hope that a nice upshift in the economy will shrink the government debt.  Or perhaps its the knowledge that the dollar is easier to deflate if needed than the Euro.

What can you live without?

While a cost of living increase or a decrease in income are never a welcome prospect, I’m optimistic about my abilities to keep living a happy life. After all, most of us in the blogosphere have a higher standard of living than many, many people around the world.  And we also have a higher standard of living than people of most other time periods as well.  It’s always hard to take a pay cut, or to stop indulging in certain habitual luxuries . . . at first.  But I’ve seen numerous examples of people living quite happily on far less than we spend each month.

My strategy for pinching pennies if needed:

Although I don’t know exactly when/if cuts to our income could be coming, I have already started to look over our situation to figure out the possibilities.  Here are my steps:

1. Take a look over our monthly expense spreadsheets and see if I can spot any ‘leaks’ in the budget.
2. In our case, I’d say our grocery bill is a little high–ahem 300-400 euros for two per month.  We’re lucky actually to have such an easy area to streamline.   We could probably save 75 euros a month easily here.
   
3. I’ve also got to admit that I’d be targeting our ‘fun’ category. Likely spots for cutting would be my pottery classes (sniff!) as well as a little pinching in the area of wine tasting. . .um, yes, that’s part of our budget actually.  Here, we could save about 50 euros a month without causing ourselves too much pain.
   
4. If I wanted to be even bolder, I could make plans to lower our rent.  We splurged on a very nice apartment last year in a rather pricey location, but we certainly have the option of taking a lower-rent place–without getting ourselves into trouble as we did in Marseilles!  We’d probably stand to save at least 100 euros a month by accepting a slightly smaller place.
   
5. Cutting commute distances is another way we could potentially save, assuming my husband doesn’t mind teaching in the same town he lives in–he sometimes gets picky about this.  I can’t completely blame him Still, living closer to DH’s work would cut our living expenses by close to 50 euros a month.
   

Well, that’s 275 euros a month.  Considering our living expenses are currently at about 2000 a month, that’s a little over 10% of our budget.  If you have a bigger budget, you might be thinking that 275 euros is just a drop in the bucket–to which I’d argue that you might have an even easier time pinching pennies.  If you’re used to living on 4-10,000 a month, you most likely have even more leeway than we do.

So how would you pinch your pennies?

Maybe you have no need to tweak your budget at all. . . or maybe you’re considering changing jobs and taking a lower income or even facing a layoff. Regardless of the situation, I’m curious to know how you’d go about losing the ‘fat’ in your budget if you found you needed to.  Where could you cut painlessly? Where would cuts take a little more creativity?

Can you be more frugal in town or in the country?

Local pastry shop--one of the temptations of city life.

If you’ve read my recent guest post at Well-Heeled Blog, then you know that DH and I have decided to settle in a much more rural area here in France.  Our decision to skip out of the biggest population centers pivoted largely on the fact that the cost of housing there seemed to negate the added monetary benefit of my career potential in a larger city.  But we’ve still got a fairly big decision to make: do we live in a small city (about 50,000 people) or do we live in small town or village (around 1000 people).

Financial considerations of city versus country living.

Why living in a city is frugal:

• You may be able to park the car and save on gas and maintenance. . .you may even be able to live without a car!  (The city we’re looking at has free bus service).
• You’re close to most services and shopping–which can make it easier to find savings and comparison shop.  Some of the villages around here don’t even have a single shop–not a bakery, not a grocery stop, nothing!  In such small areas, you can easily find yourself subject to a ‘convenience’ tax when you are forced to do your errands close to home.
• You may find more jobs.  I wouldn’t exactly say that the small city we’re considering is a mecca of career opportunities for me, but at the same time, it looks like I’d have quite a few more options for work than if we lived out in the boonies.

Why living in the country is frugal:

• You can (usually) afford a better home for your money.  In our case, this would mean a 3-bedroom house rather than a 3-bedroom apartment.
• If you have land around your home or are close to some land you can use, you can start your own garden–a frugal exploit in it’s own right.
  

  Raw milk for sale in a small village.

• You may be able to have a shed or workshop allowing you to work on projects you wouldn’t work on in an apartment (repairs, soap-making . . .)
• You avoid the constant temptations to spend that you find in the city.  I certainly noticed this when living in our village recently–there were no shops to window-gaze, and you can only go to the same café so many times before it gets old.
• You can occasionally buy products like vegetables, meat, milk and cheese directly from the producers.
• You are (usually) closer to nature and hence free entertainment.  We love to hike and bike, so finding a location where you can do so without ‘leaving town’ appeals to us a great deal.
• Property taxes are far lower (if the township has its act together!!).

City or country, which makes the best money sense?

What do you think makes more sense money-wise?  Did you ultimately make your decisions based on being smart with money or did other factors come into play when you chose your home?

Your Favorite DIY’s–frugal? entertaining? both?

Do it yourself and simple/frugal go hand in hand.

I’ve found that every 10 hours I cut off my work week has changed my outlook on time and money

Sourdough starter

drastically. When I worked 70 hours a week, I would not have even contemplated making homemade bread, designing my own makeshift closet, making a thermal cooker or learning to do pottery, for example.  I counted my minutes out like a miser counts his pennies.  No way was I going to spend my precious time watching yeast do its thing!  And if I could spend $20 to buy back a few hours of my time from chores, cooking, financial planning or working–the money would fly. Likewise, reducing the time spent working freed up time to do money-saving activities. . .

The simple act of cutting back to 50-60 hours a week felt like some kind of revolution for me. Suddenly, I had the patience to call and argue about a mistake on a bill, or plant potted herbs and lettuce on my balcony.  Some of these activities, I even found I enjoyed–once spending the time no longer meant sacrificing my sleep or my health.

DIY–saving money while having fun.

My recent foray into unemployment has lead me to contemplate DIY projects in an entirely different manner.  I find that I do things myself for a variety of reasons:

• To save money (baking bread and most cooking fall under this category for me)
  

  Homemade bread--a favorite DIY.

• Higher quality (any food item, home grown vegetables and fruits and potentially homemade clothing)
• Entertainment, a sense of mastery and fun! (pottery-making, for example)
• Satisfaction–that I don’t have to rely on a specific manufacturer, grocery store etc for what I want or need: (shampoo alternatives, homemade deodorant and my makeshift closet fall under this category)

DIY and ‘What do you do all day?’

People have the most amusing ideas about being bored without their jobs and paid entertainment. I’ve been unemployed for coming up on a year (not on purpose, but hey!).  I’ve never been bored mainly because given a little spare time to work with my mind rattles off all kinds of oddball ideas. . .what if I could make my own soap?  What if I built an insulating window-covering?  What if I grew my own sourdough starter? Some save more money than others, but the creating and learning process certainly keeps me entertained.

in progress--tomato seedlings

What are your favorite DIY activities and why?

I certainly don’t think that money is the only purpose for engaging in a DIY project.  I’m curious to know what your favorite DIY projects/activities are.  Do you chose activities for enjoyment or because they save money?  Is there a new DIY activity that you’re particularly proud of or one that you hope to take on sometime soon?

Radical simplicity, frugality–for couples only?

Last week, in the discussion following the post, Risks you’d take to live your dream, Maus posed a question that deserved a post in its own right:

Patricia’s story, as well as that of Trisha’s here at SIF and Jacob’s at ERE, makes me wonder if living at the edge is easier (or at least easier to contemplate) if you have a spouse or partner. While I have no qualms about living a simple life, indeed I embrace it; I am held back by the prospect of loneliness or isolation, especially in the later stages of life. It is one reason that I remain rooted in outrageously expensive California. There are no (habitable) houses for $250 a year; but my family and friends are nearby. To me, the prospect of real hardship can only be borne with the knowledge that I can draw on the support of friends and family.

What do others think? Is the single versus coupled dichotomy a false one with respect to radical simplicity?

Couples, simplicity and frugality: practical considerations.

Simple, frugal--easier for couples?

Immediately after reading Maus’s comment my mind began to mull over all the ways in which I’ve found that living in a couple makes it easier. Financial advantages of living in a couple include shared lodging and entertainment.  Less tangible benefits such as moral support and companionship can make situations comfortable and happy when they would otherwise feel austere.  Should you fall on hard times, you (ideally) have a partner or spouse to help boost your morale or support you.

Honestly, though, how many people have you heard complaining on blogs and in real life that they would love to indulge in radical simplicity, if only their spouse or partner would agree? While I admit this is not my particular experience, it’s not difficult to find examples of people who feel that their husbands,wives, partners stop them from achieving the degree of minimalism they seek, from spending less or from ‘dropping out of the rat race.’

Sometimes couples support each other during hard times, but not always. I’ve also seen couples fight over reduced incomes, money troubles or simple discrepancies in how money should be spent.

Do radical simplicity, frugality and social isolation go hand in hand?

Maus seems to draw a link between simplicity and “loneliness” or isolation, but does one really follow the other? If you look at Patricia’s example, she and her partner left the UK to resettle in a rather rural (read remote) area.  I left many of my friends and all my family behind to move to France.  Jacob from ERE is also living a somewhat uprooted lifestyle, although he left his native Denmark years ago.

I suppose that one could conclude that leaving your native culture and moving someplace new requires that you leave behind your connections, however, I’m not sure that leaving family behind is necessary. At least one of the examples above, Jacob, happens to live in an extremely high-rent area.  He certainly hasn’t found himself forced to move and leave it all behind in order to simplify.  Patricia and I have moved and simplified, but if you remember from Patricia’s story, she has a lot of local friends and a very rich social life in Portugal.  As for my husband and I, we now live much closer to his family and our friends in France, so we hardly find ourselves alone–quite the contrary.  As DH recovers from his accident we’re surrounded by family and friends.

If you think about societies where social isolation occurs, do you think of radically simple ones? I personally think of affluent societies. I’ve never been  to Cuba, but whenever I watch a documentary on that country, I see people living lifestyles we’d probably consider quite radical by US standards, and all the while, they find themselves tightly connected to the society around them.  For example, in Cuba, I recently learned that drivers are required to pick up hitch hikers and that taxis can’t leave until they are full. That’s just one example of the way societies can be simple in terms of material goods and highly complex in terms of interdependence and relationships.

Sharing resources and living a simplified life can bring all kinds of contact with others. Patricia found herself bartering with neighbors; Jacob has theorized about sharing large tools between neighbors.  The most radically simple lifestyles I’ve ever currently witnessed were in Madagascar–where people were appalled to learn that occasionally in the US, an elderly person can die at home and the fact can go undiscovered for some time.  In Madagascar, this is unthinkable.

What do you think about living simply and frugally?

Is it possible when you’re single?  Is it easier in a couple?  What are your experiences in this area?  Does simplicity lead to social isolation?  Does living in a couple protect you from the precarious nature of life?

Pinching Pennies, Indulging in Luxuries

Home made pizza--cheapskate behavior or luxury?

I get the raised eyebrow in reference to my spending habits on a fairly regular basis.   From what I gather, they find me a little contradictory.  On the one hand, people in my life think I’m depriving myself for being so cheap in some areas, on the other, they are often surprised to learn about some of my more indulgent habits.   I can see it bothers them.  I tend to take pinching pennies to  be a game, a mental exercise, so it doesn’t strike me as strange to refuse to spend where I don’t have to.   Still, let’s examine the perceived contradictions.

‘Cheapskate’ ways that shock friends and family:

• Baking Soda and Apple Cider Vinegar instead of shampoo and conditioner
• Experimenting with not heating our apartment this winter.
• Toying with the idea of teaching DH to cut my hair (hey, I exchanged haircuts with room mates in college, why not?)
• Wearing the same outfit more than once. . .in a row.
• No makeup, no cosmetics (unless you consider soap and toothpaste to be cosmetics)
• Making my own bread, pasta, pie crust . . .anything I can make myself really.

Spending people find luxurious:

• frequent wine tasting and consumption (yum!)
• coffee at home and out (I buy the good stuff)
• Travel and stays abroad like the six weeks I spent in Mexico a few years ago.
• Expensive equipment and clothing for sports and fun activities.
• Spending on classes, workshops and continuing education.
• The occasional purchase of an antique.  (I’m currently thinking of buying an antique grain mill . . .)

Are frugal spending habits incompatible with luxuries?

Antique school desk with chair.

People (myself included!) love to point out hypocrisy and contradiction–and rightly so.  If you strive to live by certain values and you find yourself somehow not living up to your own standards, then you have something important to consider, right?

My spending is a reflection of my priorities, how about you?

People correctly point out to me that I could make other choices, trading frugal habits for a luxury I indulge in. For example, I can afford to buy shampoo or store bought bread.  I could also do both of those things, plus save time and money if I struck out wine from our budget.   All of us could make different choices–mine are based on what I value most.  I don’t value shampoo over baking soda, so spending even a small amount of money to acquire it seems meaningless to me.

People also correctly point out that if you believe spending money is evil or that all consumption is wrong, then even a few small luxuries are wrong too. I can’t argue with that.  If you feel that way, it’s your moral duty to keep working on fine-tuning your habits.  But I have no problem spending consciously on items I value.  Society in recent decades, has begun to spend by default with a ‘more is better’ mentality–a moment of consideration before a purchase can’t hurt, in my humble opinion.

Sometimes frugal is not my purpose:

A final note I’d like to add is that I partake in many of my frugal habits because I enjoy them.  I’m curious.  Can I make my own bread?  Will it be just as tasty as store bought bread?  Will it cost more or less?  How cold will my apartment be if I don’t turn on the heat?  Will I adapt, will I get sick more?  These are questions I’m slowly answering as I try out new and frugal ways.  Through trial and error, I may decide that some activities that happen to save money and energy are enjoyable and efficient enough to continue . . .and that others are impractical.  To me, the pleasure is in the search.

Your own frugal contradictions:

Do you have any ‘luxurious’ or extremely frugal spending habits that seem contradictory to others?  When you decide to spend less or more, what motivates you?  Do you think being frugal is an end in itself or you do see saving money as part of a greater plan?

Have you ever felt poor?

I must admit that both times in my life where I felt poor, I was quickly reminded that I didn’t even know what poor was.

Back in college, I struggled to make ends meet and felt a kind of constant pressure and worry about money.  Until I studied abroad in Madagascar and learned that really, my worries were quite petty.

I fell into the same trap of thinking we didn’t have enough when I lived in the Silicon Valley with my husband.

We were hardly poor!  We just couldn’t ‘keep up’ (or didn’t want to keep up) with the standard of consumption we saw all around us.  When we moved to France for the first time in 2003 and lived on much less in an expensive city, we felt significantly “poor-er.”

To some extent feeling poor is relative.

I remember hearing a fascinating story on NPR at the start of the ‘recession’ where a woman who lived in Washington DC on minimum wage explained that the economic crisis didn’t really worry her.  She earned $1200 a month and spent $900.  She didn’t own a car or go out for coffee or to the movies.  She knew that if she lost one job, she’d find another.

Would we call this woman poor?  I suppose we could say she was living in poverty. . .by US standards. Not everything she spoke about sounded like fun, then again, she didn’t entirely seem to mind living on minimum wage–perhaps it was a choice even.

What about the feeling of losing something?  Can that make you feel poor?

Recently on Almost Frugal, Emily posted about her experience with bankruptcy.  I have not had such an experience; I imagine it to be stressful, painful–I suppose you might even feel poor?

But are people who go through bankruptcy poor?

People in this situation may have more money coming in than someone who lives on minimum wage, it’s just that they have even more money going out.  A cash flow problem as my grandfather used to call it.

I save money by making our pasta myself, does that make us poor?

That brings me to poverty in other countries, of course.

I’ve seen it, you’ve seen it.  And if we need a reminder, we can review this post by Forrest at Frugal Zeitgeist about people who make do in Cairo through their own recycling initiative.  I wonder if people who live in such places and in such conditions also consider themselves to be poor or if they’re just too busy going about their daily lives to worry about such distinctions.

Please don’t think I’m saying that being poor is always a relative condition or that I’m minimizing true poverty.

I remember reading in Deep Economy (one of my favorite books, by the way!) that, for people who really don’t have much, a little extra wealth or money usually does result in additional happiness.  McKibben argues, however, that as we become more affluent, more doesn’t necessarily mean better or happier.  Which leaves us all to answer the question: what is enough?

Money troubles are miserable and stressful–regardless of how your money troubles compare to those of others.  Sometimes, if you’re lucky:  you can feel better just by changing your outlook. Sometimes, what you really need is a little more money or food for your family.  Regardless of the situation, deciding whether or not you are poor is unlikely to be helpful–in my humble opinion.

Have you ever felt poor?  Did feeling poor help motivate you to make do?  How do you ‘hang in there’ when you have money troubles?

What do YOU gain by living simply?

Do you ever get the feeling that people around you see your lifestyle as a series of sacrifices?

I suppose you can describe a journey towards frugality or simplicity as a list of things ‘given up,’ things you don’t do.   Suddenly, it begins to seem as if you’ve lost something . . .

The costs of a simple, frugal life:

If I decided to equate simplicity with loss, here is a list of things I could feel bad about:

Lounging in the Alps this summer--not missing a single thing on the list to the left!

• not having dinner out
• not going to the movies
• not buying ready-made pastries and breads
• not driving (at least for now)
• not having a gym membership
• never getting a manicure, pedicure or facial
• not buying new unless I can’t find another option
• not shopping for entertainment

Wow, I think I’ll stop there!  The list above looks like a life not worth living! No wonder some my loved ones worry about me and try to get me to ‘live a little.’  If you look at it that way, it looks like I’ve given up everything.   If I saw things that way, I’d probably rush out to do some ‘retail therapy.’

The hidden treasures of living frugally and simply, an unseen exchange:

If you strive to live a frugal or simple life, you probably already know that you don’t do it for the experience of ‘giving something up.’  You do it for what you stand to gain! The way I see it, I’m trading something I don’t really want for something I do.

(Like when I was young and I’d trade away my candy bar for an orange at lunch.  I’m sure some people saw that as my loss, and I’m sure I didn’t care.  Nothing beats a great orange! Particularly not some fake-o candy bar.  But I digress.)

Some treasures I’ve gained by trading away what I don’t want:

• the chance to move to France with my husband
• the chance to take a hiatus from my career and look into new options
• the ability to choose any career I want because our living expenses are so low!  (I love this one)
• a slower pace of life
• a stronger relationship with my husband since we’re both less stressed and we both have more time

I could go on! But I’d like to turn the mental exercise over to you.

What have you gained from living simply, frugally or sustainably?  What do you hope to gain?  What have you traded in?

It’s fine to share gains that we can’t see, measure or put a price tag on.  In fact, those are probably the best ones!

Do price tags make wine taste better?

The wine snob we all know . . . and love:

We know better than to judge a wine by its bottle, label or price tag. . .right?

He leans against the tasting bar,  holds the glass delicately by the stem, swirls, sniffs, sips and states,“I’ve had better.” He may then go on to interrogate the poor person running the wine tasting in an apparent effort to rack up points for any questions that prove the wine snob knows more than the vineyard employee.   Absolutely charming, right?

You’re probably thinking, I’m not influenced by a wine’s label, the reputation of its vineyard or its price–I like what I like.  As for the wine-snoot mentioned above, what a jerk!  Clearly not open-minded like us, right?

Wine snobbery explained . . .and it’s a strangely human trait.

According to a 2008 Stanford University study on red wine, the mere presence of an elevated price tag on a bottle of wine can affect our perception of a wine’s quality.  But wait, you might argue, maybe people are just saying they like the wine because they think they are supposed to they don’t actually enjoy wine more because someone says it costs $90 a bottle. Baba Shiv, one of the co-authors of the study asked the same question:

You can go from spending $4 to $200 to $300 and up a bottle. Why are people going for that? Some are trying to show off, but most people are not. They are very serious about it, and they think that the more expensive it is, the better it is. That has always befuddled me. Is it really that people are getting more pleasure from it? Or do they just think so?

The findings of the 2008 study show that, people don’t just say or  think they enjoy the wine more, their brains actually show signs of experiencing more pleasure with wines displaying a higher price tag. I know, I know, I don’t like it either.

Fighting your own inner wine snob–a few unanswered questions?

Of course, I can think of a number of reasons to fight the wine-snob effect–particularly when it comes to price.  What if there was a way to enjoy an unknown bottle of wine produced by a local vintner and sold to you for just a few euros (or dollars) a bottle?  If it’s the price tag or the cute little sticker on the bottle that makes us love wine, well, I have a computer and a little graphic design software–so I can print my way into wine heaven . . . Or, I can just change my perspective.

Is it possible to outsmart the pleasure/price link in our minds?

I haven’t found any research in this department, but I should certainly hope so!  I for one, am not interested in having my enjoyment of life’s simple pleasures manipulated by marketing techniques like price tags, fancy bottle labels or by someone telling me such and such a wine has a certain score, or a ‘fruit forward’ taste.

Is it just me, or did we just pull down the curtain and see the Wizard of wine for the silly little sideshow phony he is?

So what are your tactics for fighting your inner wine snob–or are you simply immune to the effects of a price tag, name brand or pretty label on a bottle of wine (or anything else you buy for that matter)? 

The humanist in me is just not ready to give up the battle to marketing.  DH and I have been experimenting with our wine-tasting  techniques since becoming aware of  the price/taste link, the label/taste link and even the vineyard/taste link (quite alive and well here in France).  But I wanted to get your two cents before I share my thoughts on that matter.

Note–this post was inspired by Ash of the Middle Finger Project when she asked me what kinds of French wines to look out for.  I say, the best way to enjoy French wines is to come to France and cruise around unknown vineyards in search of what you like–because you are, in fact, the definitive expert on that topic.

Village idiots at our table, pallets under our bed.

Note:  The article, Near Death by Frugality: a Cautionary Tale, by Frugal Scholar inspired me to write this short account of one of my own attempts at frugality that didn’t turn out quite as I’d expected.

. . .

Village idiot–what an ugly, medieval concept. Do we really need to judge others based on our perception of their difference from us?  People deserve a chance . . . right?  Villages in the US, and France and anywhere have their Boo Radleys, after all . . .

August in Provence drove us into the streets in search of air.  Exploring our new village, I began to recognize our neighbors . . . particularly a couple in their early fifties: a man, a woman occasionally followed by a wheezing German Shepherd– at least what remained of him: his fleas, fur and bones.

Afternoons, this odd couple would flee the roasting cement of their Maison de Village to slouch on a main-street bench.  In the shade of a sycamore, the hot breeze drying their sweat and stirring the papers at their feet, they’d stare at us, the strangers.

The orb of the man’s belly protruded from his open shirt.   The woman lifted the limp blond hair off her damp neck with a splotchy red hand. Each time we’d pass, they’d grin at us with their remaining teeth.

“B’jour,” we’d whisper, although we’d come not to expect a response. In fact, we noticed that the other villagers, while basically friendly and welcoming people, gave a wide berth to the folks on the green bench.

September came without any hint of the heat letting up, and my husband went back to work, leaving me finish settling into our apartment on my own.   One problem plagued me: how to keep colonies of mold from growing on our mattress, which currently lay on the bare floor of our rooftop bedroom.  We’d long abandoned hope of  shoving our bed frame up the tiny staircase. I knew with the heat and humidity, our mattress could not survive much longer.

Late one morning, while sweating over a cup of coffee I stared down at a set of perfect wood pallets in the street below our apartment. For those traveling light (or just living light) useful items always catch the eye.  Wood pallets,  the perfect solution to our problem, nearly free and sure to pass up our narrow staircase with a little hoisting.

I decided to work up a little courage.  I was going to see if I I couldn’t secure four of the pallets to save our mattress, despite a twinge of uneasiness about who the pallets belonged to. . .

That afternoon, I presented myself at the bench under the sycamore tree.

“Excusez-moi . . . les pallettes sont à vous?” I asked, motioning to the coveted pieces of wood stacked up beside the building.

The neighbor squinted at me through his dirty glasses, the creepy grin replaced with  a scowl of suspicion.

“So what if they are my pallets?” he said, “I can leave them in the street as long as I like . . .”

“No, you see, I wanted to buy them from you. . .well, four of them anyway.” I said, cutting his rant short.

My neighbors sat up in their seats.  Then, like castaways speaking to the first human visitors in 20 years, they began talking–nonstop. Soon, they were on their feet, stepping into my personal space.

Did I maybe want all the pallets? Because I could have them!  Where did I get my accent?   How did I like the village so far?

Through bits of frantic one-sided conversation I grasped that they were both from the North originally.  The man was an old sailor.   The woman apparently found everything he said to be a grain of wisdom or a private joke. Then one of them got the brilliant idea of helping me carry the pallets to our apartment. . .

I tried to dissuade them– their apparent state of lethargic ill-health combined with such an exertion in this heat might kill them, I thought.

No, No!  They would not hear any excuses. Up we went with the four pallets.

When we finally arrived at my fourth story flat, they hunched forward pale, sweating and gasping.  What could I do but offer them a seat and a cool drink?

I perused our  fridge–water, pastis, a little beer . . .? Yes, the very beer my husband had been saving for his sweaty return from work on this Friday evening.

After twenty years living in the South of France, the two had had their share of wine and pastis.  Beer it was, then.  I watched the two down the beer telling myself I’d make it right.  Before DH returned, I’d have our new bed in place and cold beer in the fridge.  He’d be thrilled with my frugal exploits.

Have you ever realized you could not disentangle yourself from a situation?  You may have squirmed,  made a few false starts, dropped hints.  Yet try as you might, you couldn’t quite wriggle your way out. . .

At some point the conversation went from odd yet colorful to downright alarming.  When would these people leave? I sipped my water politely attempting to hide my agitation.

They cursed the town.  They cursed the townsfolk.  Twenty years of bad blood, distrust, complications with the humane society and run-ins with child protective services spewed forth.  What is it about people who think something is wrong with everyone else?

Some unreasonable amount of time later, my husband lugged his briefcase through the front door. He surveyed the strange people at our table, his empty cans of beer and the pallets piled in the corner; his brow darkened, his eyes darted in annoyance. As he eased into the creaky chair beside me, he shot me a look that said, “What the ?!?!?”

And then it looked like we were saved.  The neighbors stood, headed for the door . . .and turned to inform us they’d be back with a bottle of wine, so we could make a night of it.

“NON!”

In the silence immediately following the outburst, I tried to remember if I’d ever herd DH yell like that.  When the mild-mannered go to the dark side, it never fails to impress. Thirty seconds later the neighbors had left the building in a huff, DH was in the shower running cool water over his hot head . . . and I was speeding off to the market to buy a few conciliatory cans of cold beer.

Did I go too far, I wondered on the way  home?

It took three weeks for my husband to admit that the pallets had saved us and that there was a certain amount of humor in the story.  It took about the same amount of time it took for me to admit I’d invited the village idiots to our table.

. . .

Have you ever gone too far in the sake of being frugal?  Have you ever had a disagreement with a spouse or partner about what exactly constitutes too far?