Saving money, but not on purpose

I’m trying to plan my first R&R, which is planned to be to Australia in a few months. As someone who mostly takes trips over long weekends, trying to plan a three-week excursion has been a different, especially since there is no package tour involved.

Those are easy, as demonstrated by the fact I’ve already put a down payment on a cruise for January 2020. Write a check or give a credit card number and you’re done.

It’s a little harder when you’re trying to piece together different countries (I transit Amman) and multiple cities.

It’s really hard when you don’t have a credit card.

And that’s the situation I’m in now. Late last week, I went to buy a train ticket and realized my Visa card expired at the end of October and one debit card had expired in September (not that I want to use those on the internet). The new ones, I’m sure, went to Tallahassee but Zippy hasn’t seen them and likely accidentally shredded them. I spent time on with the State Department Federal Credit Union to see if I can get new ones, so hopefully that’s fixed.

Although Visa is “everywhere you want to be,” my card of choice is still American Express. This is a bit difficult sometimes, because it’s not accepted everywhere. Like the Australian train ticket, for example. But AirBnB takes it, so I’ve been happily making reservations in Cairns and Airlie Beach.

I’d intended to try to plan the rest of the vacation this weekend and decided to see what damage I’d done so far this month with American Express. You know it’s your preferred card when you not only have the card number, that little secret number, the expiration date and the card closing date by heart. I might have to look up my SSN, but I can fire off that number pretty quick. Just ask Amazon.

Before making any more reservations, I wanted to check the account. In doing so, there was an unfamiliar charge. Holy smokes.  I called AmEx (best customer service on the planet) and had the card canceled. After thinking about the charge, though, I realized it was from the same place I stayed over two years ago while on vacation. I have no earthly idea why they would have charged me again, or why my number would have been still accessible. I went in February 2016!

So the next step was to get a new AmEx card, which is harder than it seems it should be. The problem is I don’t have a phone number that you can call and I’ll answer. Now, I don’t understand why that’s a stumbling block to get something mailed, but OK. Personally, I have no problem with having no answerable phone because I can call out with few issues. However, even though I the Google Voice number and all, for whatever reason, it doesn’t ring and therefore I can’t answer it. While I’m not going to worry about it, it freaks people out. And I get it, really. I mean, I’m talking on the phone to a customer service rep trying to explain that I don’t have a phone. Why should they believe that?

Anyway, due to some policy, I can’t get my new AmEx sent directly to me; it has to go to my home of record first. So now I have to wait on it to travel the world, and in the meantime, I have absolutely no way of spending money.

It’s a really weird situation so I hope nothing comes up. It already occurred to me that my internet comes due on the 20^th, so hopefully by then I have something that works. But it’s a strange feeling, knowing that I’m pretty much unable to spend any money. I mean, if push came to shove, I could figure it out, but I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. It’s not a bad thing to go a couple of weeks without placing an order from Walmart, Target, Amazon or some other place. I’m not even a big shopper but knowing I can’t makes me want to.

It’s a process

Going a month in Pooh’s Hundred-Acre Sandbox, and life’s pretty easy. That sounds weird, I know, what being in a war-torn country and all, but I really feel that I’m in an insulated bit of it.

But settling in is a process. So far, I feel like I’ve yet to start my job. Technically, my job is to substitute for other people when they go on leave, and the leave rotation really hasn’t kicked in yet. In a month it will be nonstop action. Tomorrow, not so much.

But as soon as the bell rings, I’ll super busy. I’m just tired of waiting for it.

Come to think of it, I have heard bells, though. We’ve had what I think were small kitchen fires in the last two weeks and when one happened in my building – oh my God, the bell. The fire alarm is not eight feet from my desk and it scared the bejesus out of me.

Anyway, I’m just trying to be patient and find stuff to do while I’m waiting for the job to really kick in. By my estimates, that would be mid-November at the latest.

In the meantime, I’m waiting on more to settle down, like my weight! It’s hard to get used to the abundance of food, and to pace yourself accordingly.

As happened between my first two posts, I gained weight in the U.S. Once in [insert name of country here], though, I got back on the treadmill and weight came off again. A month into it, that has not been the case here. It’s still creeping up.

The thing is, if you look at what I’m eating, it’s not much. I’ve had multiple people comment on my lunch, saying it’s barely enough. In general, it’s soup, rice/broccoli/mashed potatoes/some other little side dish and a piece of unbuttered cornbread.

I have to stop here to mention that the soup is fantastic. I’ve yet to have a soup that I’d deem subpar, although I have noticed the chicken noodle in one building is superior to one served in a different building. They’re both excellent, but one uses spaghetti noodles and one uses one of the curly noodles. I like the curly more. Anyway, I’ve had Indian Dahl, minestrone, vegetable, chicken vegetable, beef noodle, roasted pepper (oh, the roasted pepper!), turkey and rice, chicken and rice, and seafood bisque. Seriously, one day last week I had three different soups, one for lunch and two for dinner.

So I’m eating a lot of soup. That shouldn’t pack on pounds, right? But I feel like I’ve continually gained since I arrived. It’s hard not to, but I swear I’m being conscious about what I eat. (Although, I admit, after skipping any sort of dessert for a week and then getting on the scale and hitting a new high for the decade, I caved and ate Ben & Jerry’s because it just doesn’t seem to matter.)

Now I am wondering if it’s because I’ve always bought food on the local market and now I am back to eating food that’s been processed in the U.S. I noticed this in Morocco, when I are basically rice, macaroni and popcorn for meals. People would tell me I was losing weight and what was I eating, and I was thinking pretty much just carbs. But the food wasn’t as processed as it was in the United States. Same with Turkey and China.

So now I have to figure it out. This past weekend, I didn’t drink anything except water and unsweet tea, with the exception, as planned, as an end-of-weekend soft drink. I’ve been trying to figure out where the intake has been coming from, and all I have been able to figure is the drinks. There’s tea and lemonade, and even though I mix the sweet and unsweet teas together, in Istanbul I always did stevia sweet tea. The lemonade is just super sweet, too, and there’s only cucumber water to dilute tit.

And I’m doing fitness classes up the wazoo. It’s just baffling me, but I guess, like the job itself, everything will kick in at some point. It’s all a process, right?

At sea in the sandbox

Happy first three-day weekend! It’s kind of like being on a cruise that’s at sea. There are a whole bunch of scheduled stuff going on, but no real purpose, like, you know, a job.  Me, I need that dock so I can go aboard and take in the sights. Day three of the three-day holiday has been pretty darn boring.

I hadn’t really counted on three-day weekends anyway, so this was kind of a surprise. Most people here work six or seven days a week. At some point, I probably will, too, but my job is to stopgap people and right now everyone’s here so there’s no need to stopgap.

So, this non-docking cruise ship in a sandbox is one, right now, of routine, but man oh man, the routines you can build. Fridays, which are our Saturdays, are the most packed but Thursday nights (our Friday nights) are packed.

I went directly to the gym after work to hit the rowing machine for a half an hour before abs class, then agreed to kickball before I realized kickball was immediately following abs class. I had penciled in eating for that hour, since Bible study started right after that. Instead, I darted off to grab some Froot Loops (Marriott got me addicted) as a meal for during Bible study. Not exactly healthy, but compact with little cleanup.

There’s not a lot of retail therapy in this sandy version of Pooh’s One Hundred Acre Wood. We have two little stores with stuff like cleaning products and toiletries (but no vitamins) and another with a different variation of that, plus booze. The first one also has a limited supply of random things with “Baghdad Embassy” on it, though as of yet I haven’t seen any clothing I need.

After an attempt to run outside, though, I did cave and buy a $13 ball cap to run in. I have one, but it’s orange and since some of my running stuff is blue, I just can’t mix those. I got a tan one with a U.S. flag. No “Baghdad” on it anywhere.

One of my major goals this weekend was go buy a shower curtain liner, which is something not offered in any of the little stores. But Wal-Mart and Target deliver, so why not, right? I figured I’d pick up a few other little things. Well, this turned out to be waaaaaay harder than it should have been. Apparently a shower curtain liner is somehow too dangerous, or something, to go through the diplomatic pouch, which is how I get mail.

I tried various combinations of stuff to try to land on some safe-enough version of a shower curtain liner (seriously) and came up empty until one certain combination from Target. As a RedCard holder, this was perfect, until the automated system refused to acknowledge my new address. Now, the addresses are pretty standard, and it basically just changed one set of four numbers to a new set of four numbers and then switched a box number. The ZIP code changed two digits.  When I went to change it, though, no matter how I put it in, the system insisted I had entered an invalid address for some city in Jersey that I’ve never even visited, let alone gotten mail in.

After three calls to Target directly, I gave it up and hit up Amazon. I hadn’t tried it before because I tend to wind up with a lot of stuff that’s deemed unable to be sent to the dip pouch, like books. But it let me send the shower curtain, although not the vitamins. Win some, lose some. I topped it off with enough “I’d have bought it eventually anyway” stuff to qualify for free shipping (Thanks, Eric Church!) and will hope for the best. I’ve no idea how long it takes to get Amazon stuff here.

Mostly what I’ve done this weekend – besides agonize over the Noles, how awful was that? – has been to edit a friend’s doctoral thesis. Originally it was due in April, so when I got it in August I sat it on the back burner until I arrived. Then he turned in the first draft, and I guess it was so clean they said he could turn it in a semester early, or Oct. 15, to get his doctorate early. Yikes! We cranked it up and, hopefully, it’s almost done. Either way, it’s in his court at the moment; I sent up my latest version yesterday and am awaiting two things before I can send up what it, hopefully, the final version.

The stepped-up timeline will be a coup for me, because as much as I’ve jumped in feet-first here, I’ve held off on a few things that I planned on doing after the paper. If it’s done by the end of October, that’s all the earlier I can get going on the other stuff.

As I’ve said, there’s a full slate of stuff you can do, both formal and information, regular and one-time. The kickball, for example, is as a warm-up for a tournament that’s coming up. I don’t think it’s an ongoing thing. (We also have a Balls of Steel Ping Pong tournament coming up, too.)

And if you don’t see it on the calendar, you can find a space and stick it on yourself. And that’s what I hope to do with guitar. I bought a little one in Istanbul with the hope of figuring out how to pick it, but wanted to wait until the paper was done. Not only does it look like I will have the time before April, but I’ve already found someone else who also has a guitar but no clue.

How, exactly, I’m going to fit it in is an unknown; this long weekend notwithstanding, I’m unbelievably busy with stuff, and I keep taking on more. This week, I added tae kwon do (hi Riley!) to my list of things I want to try, which is taught by one of the salsa guys.

I don’t think the salsa guys recognize me as a lost cause just yet. So very optimistic, they seem think that one day I will suddenly become coordinated and graceful. As I’ve been me for almost five decades, I’m not as optimistic, but I’m willing to humor them by joining the other classes they seem to think will turn me into a swan. I enjoy the step classes, but after each class I apologize to the instructor for sucking so bad. At this point in the game, I’m too scared to even step across the little stair thing for fear I twist/sprain/break my ankle. I stick to the up-and-down on just the one side. It’s kind of repetitious, but I haven’t turned any body parts bruise blue yet.

Abs class is pretty much ditto. Due to the shoulder surgery (or so I tell myself), I just can’t do a side plank, and some of those other moves just don’t mesh with rehab, either. Sometimes I find myself having to modify the modified version. Between shoulder and foot, the left side of my body doesn’t work every well.

It’s a little like kindergarten

We have reminders similar to this at all our food spots.
It's a lot like kindergarten.

Anyone who has more than one child knows that if one gets sick, the other gets sick, and then the parents get sick and then it cycles all over again.  God bless school teachers. I have no idea how they’re not sick every single day of their lives. Little kids are germ spreaders.

The best thing to do, of course, is to continually wash your hands. Forget those sanitizers. Studies show that hand-washing is the best thing to do to prevent the spread of germs. With all those kids sharing space, it’s the proven way of halting germs.

This place doesn’t have any kids, but we’re teeming with humanity. Many times, it’s hot and sweaty humanity, but even on the best air-conditioned days, it’s still a bunch of people sharing spaces. So when one person gets some kind virus, like a cold, it has the potential to shoot like wildfire to the rest of us. For the most part, we all congregate in the food spaces, especially. There’s more than one of them, but most people, at least twice a day, are going to congregate in our feeding halls.

To combat fast-spreading colds (or worse), we’ve got to wash our hands. One way to make sure we all do this is to not let us eat until we do. I’m not sure if this would work with kindergartners, but boy, it seems to work for hungry adults.

Prior to every meal, whether we eat in or take out, we have to do two things. One is swipe our food cards, and that’s just because the government counts everything. We’re not billed personally for our food, but somewhere at pay grades higher than mine, someone has to calculate who ate what. My guess is somewhere someone sets an average price for a meal and that our little cards tell some system what my hiring mechanism is, like if I am a contractor, direct hire or what. The bill, I suppose, goes from there. I really don’t know; I just know that I have to tap my card before I can grab a tray and go through the line.

Similar to a photo on the rotating announcements screen.
It says something like, "This person forgot to wash her hands.
"Don't be this person!"

But before that, I have to wash my hands. It’s just kind of silly to me, because, in general, the last thing I did before heading to the food room was go to the bathroom and wash my hands. (Tip I heard this week: always pee before you leave a building, because you never know what will happen before you arrive at your destination.) But once I get to the food place, whichever one it is, I have to wash them again.

And they make it obvious and easy. There are signs everywhere to wash your hands, reminding us of the evil diseases that can spread. And there are sinks. Many stations of sinks, like maybe a dozen. These bewildered me at first, because there’s no handle and I thought that meant they were motion-detected.  The first meal, I waved my hands under one after another, trying to turn one on. Finally someone bailed me out; there’s a foot pedal. You pump it, add soap, wash and dry. And you can’t eat until you do so.

Honestly, I have no idea how the person at the card-tap place can possibly check everyone, because he or she is always busy assisting with the take-out containers, but apparently they have been known to catch people trying to sneak in with dirty hands.

There are several TVs going in the main food hall, and one of them runs slides of announcements. There’s once slide with a photo of a woman with her eyes censored out so you can’t identify her. I haven’t sat close enough to that TV to read the fine print, but from what I understand it says something about her not washing her hands. We’re into shame, I guess. But hey, if you didn’t learn it in kindergarten, there’s just little hope for you now and maybe shame is the best way to go.

Simba is lion

My world shrunk. It’s now the size of a tiny college campus and I live in a dorm. Well, I guess most dorms don’t have kitchens and mine does, so maybe it’s an apartment. Although there's nothing in the kitchen except a Twix bar, a tea bag and a packet of microwave popcorn I took from the Marriott in Rosslyn. That's pretty dorm-y.

Whatever the little place is, it’s home until May 2020, inchallah. After a three-day journey that encompassed three planes and a helicopter, I arrived in Baghdad on Thursday. It was a little worrisome getting out, because Florence was still hanging around the DC-NY path, which was my first leg. The flight left about an hour late and I had a tight connection but wound up leaving for Amman from a fairly close gate and even had enough time to grab another bottle of tea before hopping on the 10.5-hour flight.

Since, more or less (mostly less), the flight from Amman-Baghdad was a charter (VERY “less;” this is a pretty generous description but I’m not sure how else to classify it) that leaves in the morning, the itinerary calls for coming in the day before and staying at a hotel (hi, Marriott!) and then turning around the next morning for the last airplane flight and short helicopter ride.

A word about the Marriott: Oh, man. There is a world of difference between a regular Marriott breakfast and a Marriott Residence breakfast. There was so much to choose from! Not a lot of time, since it opened at 6:30 and my ride left at 7, but still. It was fabulous.

The evening before, I was so tired from the overnight flight from JFK that I didn’t bother trying to go out and scrounge food. I ate right at the sports bar in the hotel, Champions. They had several games going on, but I don’t follow “futbol.” I chose a seat in the decidedly American display section, sitting under autographed pictures of Nolan Ryan and Wayne Gretzky, even as the music played “Daydream Believer” by the Monkees. My stay in Amman was short, surreal and sleepless. Totally jet-lagged, I crashed heavily at 9 p.m. but woke up three times between then and midnight and couldn’t get to sleep at all after that.

So, by 1 p.m. the following day, I was nearing zombie-like status but tried to keep up with my sponsor, who showed me around the place.

The post here has been described to me as “a cruise ship that never docks,” a high school or college campus, Communist Russia and a minimum-security prison. I think those last two are because there’s a lot of security, a lot of cameras and we have to wear our ID tags everywhere.

But this place is fantastic. My apartment is laid out nicely, has two TVs with American channels and water I can drink straight out of the faucet. I’m also conveniently located across from the building that houses the smaller (and less intimidating) gym, the pool, post office, little shops and the place that’s called Baghdaddy’s, which is a cross between a bar and a multi-purpose room.

This place is not all Americans and Iraqis. There are contractors here, and they are from, quite literally, all over. Some are TDYers from other embassies and will be here for 3 months to a year or so, and some have resigned from their embassy jobs to take spots here as contractors and have been here for years.

There is food everywhere. This is where the “cruise ship” part comes in. Each meal is served for a number of hours every day, but if you miss that or just want something small, there’s another place to go to grab that, too. And it’s good food. The first night, I had Jamaican chicken and couscous. I split a cinnamon roll with someone this morning and it was fabulous. I also had pancakes, grits and bacon. I had soup and collards last night, mostly because I was stuffed from the spinach, chicken and mashed potatoes I’d had for lunch.

Fortunately, there are two gyms. I missed spin class today because I was either in the wrong gym or the wrong room, but I got back on the elliptical for the first time since leaving Istanbul. So today I hurt, but I earned the half a cinnamon roll.

Since the weekend here is Friday-Saturday (meaning I haven’t gone to work yet), Today (Saturday) is our Sunday. As a result, I had the opportunity to go to church, which is held in Baghdaddy’s. There is a Protestant service and a Catholic service, plus several others for other religions.

I’d gone to a Bible study my first night here (too jet-lagged to remember much) and was expecting a similar crowd, like maybe 10 people or so. Instead, there was a room full of people from all around. It was pretty cool. It was a real church service and not a substitute, which made me happy. We weren’t allowed to go to church in Istanbul.

After three or four contemporary hymns and an intro, a group of black singers came up and sang an African gospel song, in some African language. They had the translation up on the screen and it was the same phrases over and over with different African countries listed. Think “God bless Uganda!” “God bless Botswana!”, etc.

The them was something about a lion, and today I learned that “simba” is “lion” in whatever language it was. While I saw “The Lion King,” I didn’t know the translation was literal.

It looks like I have the potential to learn a lot on this tour, and I’m not counting work. The possibilities here are mind-boggling. So far, I’ve been to Bible study and attempted a spin class (I’ll find it soon). There is a knitting group (Baghdarners, I think it’s called) that I’ve already asked about and today at lunch I sat with some folks who were doing salsa. One was the instructor (an Air Force guy) and one a student. She was an Iraqi-born Michigander who’s back in the country for two years as a contractor doing something in addition to learning salsa, but that’s what we talked about.

They were so enthused about it that I somehow got looped into it. This is definitely going to be a unique tour.

A little loopy

It’s my last week in Washington and I’m officially down to the wire to get stuff done. I have a little list next to me that’s got more crossed off than left on, but it’s still substantial. Monday is going to be a big day.

As bad luck would have it, I discovered on Friday evening that there is a Chick-Fil-A in Foggy Bottom. This is on me; I have no idea why I didn’t think to search earlier. I’ve spent a lot of time in the area, but I tend to walk right out of the metro, and Chick is on the left. And Thursday evening, the evening before I had the brilliant revelation to search for a place, I was right in Foggy Bottom, leaving a get-together famished. I could have used a six-pack of nuggets, but I didn’t know.

Today I thought about going, but after a visit to the Library of Congress with some friends, we hit up the food trucks for lunch and that was just too much good. I mean, not enough food to forfeit swinging by Georgetown and stopping for cupcakes at Baked and Wired, but too much to think about another meal. There’s always room for cupcakes.

Since going to Chick is out of the question tomorrow, I’m planning on going both Monday after lunch (don’t judge: I’ve got two more appointments after lunch and will grab soup to take home) and probably Tuesday as my last meal.

It’s been a big week. Beyond fighting a cold and sitting through a class with talking head after talking head and the air conditioner set for what felt like like 52 degrees, I met some new folks and, most importantly for next week, got my passport back. My visa arrived last Thursday and I’m good to go; I even had time to run by the Global Entry place and get it registered, which was as big “cross off” on my calendar. No point in paying for the program if you can’t register the passport you travel on, right?

Fortunately, Florence has stayed away from D.C. and it looks like I’ll still be good to go on Tuesday.  Unfortunately, it looks like I might be flying into the path of residual rain. We’ll see how it goes. This past week I met several people headed to post who were leaving earlier and were a bit panicked. It’s kind of exciting that it’s all coming together.

I’ll be there until May 2020, inchallah. I hope all goes well. I’m not concerned about the situation in Baghdad; I’m concerned about me adjusting to a job and not being able to get away on a short trip every month. Instead, I’ll have long trips every four months or so. For me, that’s something to get used to.

It’s also a long time on the road at one shot, although not as long as I’ve been in DC this go-around. God bless Marriott, but I’ve hit my limit for hotel nights in a row. I’m in my third hotel room since August 12 and really tired of the same breakfast every day.

It’s not that it’s bad and I to vary it up, but you can only vary scrambled eggs or pancakes so much. This morning, instead of toast, I had an English muffin and tomorrow, if their Sunday menu holds, I’ll opt for a biscuit and gravy.

They also have the standard cereal option, although they don’t have what I find in most hotels, which is corn flakes. I’m not capitalizing that because I’m fairly confident that although Marriott appears to go with Kellogg’s, I seriously doubt some of the other places I’ve stayed in spring for the name brand.

They have some healthy option, Rice Krispies and Froot Loops. I don’t do healthy and Rice Krispies without marshmallows and butter taste kind of like sugary (because I add sugar) air, but crunchy. Which isn’t bad, but I decided to have a bowl of Froot Loops my first day here. I haven’t eaten Froot Loops since they added green, purple and blue and figured what the heck. (Looked this up: 1990s.) I wanted a little something sweet after the (likely from a powder) scrambled eggs, toast and sausage. I took a small bowl and crunched away, because milk in cereal is just gross. Use a glass, people.

And now I am a loopy addict. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’ve now eaten Froot Loops daily at as a little dessert after breakfast. You’re only as old as you feel. I don’t even bother with a spoon.

Summer camp and back-to-school shopping

In a word, yesterday was expensive.

Back from my summer camp week – more on that later – I met a friend at the Tyson’s Corner mall, which is a huge, fancy schmancy mall that’s (thankfully) on the metro line. The trip itself took about half an hour and cost $3.40, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to what I’d eventually spend.

Heading out, I swear I really did need a bra, and like LL Bean’s Perfect Fit Pants to much (I wear a different color each day at work) that I wanted to get a pair of the capris. But that was all I planned on, and, honestly, the bra was an iffy purchase. I still can’t get my arm around my back so I wanted a front-closure one but they’re such a pain to buy.

The plan had been to meet up with a friend around 2, and while on the metro, she mentioned Victoria’s Secret had bras on sale. Not having any memory of the layout of the mall, I suggested meeting there around 2:15. The Internet wasn’t playing fair and she didn’t get the message until much later, after I’d located Vicky’s and was ensconced in bra-shopping.

The mall was teaming with people, and I swear 30 percent of them were in the store. It was absolutely packed, perhaps drawn in by the $35 bra sale. I’m pretty claustrophobic and had to control breathing to go in, searching for front-closure bras. Not much to choose from, but once in the “sports” section, I saw one and immediately salesperson asked if I needed help. I explained the situation and she asked what size. I guess I stammered and she offered to measure me. Sure thing.

Well, turns out I’ve been doing it wrong. She said I had D-cups and I almost choked. Really? I just had to laugh. But in the end, holy smokes, it worked. Of course, “in the end” was a full 45 minutes, three changes of close and, no kidding, about eight different salespeople later, I walked out with two bras that, even on sale, are the most expensive things in my wardrobe.

That started a cascade of shopping, which I normally hate, but I’d met up with my friend and it made it tolerable. She found a dress for a wedding -- $20! – and stalked LL Bean like there was no tomorrow. I found the one color Perfect Fit Pants that I didn’t have but had trouble finding the capris. After asking in the shoe section -- $90 boat shoes for $35! – I learned that if they had any, they’d be in the clearance section. I’d hit the clearances but not really the pants since I’m almost set there. I really need shirts.

Anyway, lo and behold, a pair of $40 Perfect Fit Capris lay waiting. They were $15 before the extra 25 percent off. So, somewhere in the $186 that I gave to LL Bean, I got the one pair of pants that I wanted, drastically on sale.

I’m running out of shampoo and I really J.R. Liggett’s but Whole Foods, darn them, don’t sell it anymore. I’ve ordered some but don’t have it yet, so I thought what the heck, I’d buy a bar of Lush’s and see how that worked. Of course it’s staggeringly expensive (and not on sale) and they have a separate conditioner bar. Twenty-eight dollars for four months of shampoo and probably a year of conditioner.  I don’t think that’s good, but I splurged.

Eddie Bauer also had a 50 percent off thing going and I finally got some trail pants that I wanted but don’t really need, plus some socks and a green shirt. I love green but don’t have much.

Couldn’t find a 2019 calendar at either of the dollar-ish stores I went in but found stuff I wanted in each, and, to top everything off, I’m going to two parties this weekend so I went and bought something to bring to each of them. And, mental note: cupcakes really should be kept top side up. They’re no longer pretty.

I haven’t checked with American Express to see the damage that I did, but it was substantial. Now I am going to have to ship a box to myself, I think, because I don’t have room in my bag to take them. And I learned I need a watch battery late in the day so that’ll have to get fixed later.

The splurge came off of a week of “summer camp.” Really, it wasn’t that, but a five-day class. It’s not in DC proper, so large group of people get transported in what are essentially modified school busses, split into groups and given a program for the week. It really smacks of summer camp, but of course it’s a work program. No crayons of kumbaya involved, although I think at one point, karaoke was an unofficial option for one evening. It’s just kind of funny because there’s even a color-coded bracelet and an end-of-camp event, so to speak, on Friday.

And now school begins again. I still have a couple of weeks remaining here before I head off to the real program, and I’m glad to have Labor Day (and football season) here.