I grew up in Baptist churches, which means I could deliver a sermon on tithing -- complete with three alliterative points -- at a moment's notice.

I've learned that, when the quarterly tithing sermon just isn't enough, a testimonial usually hits the spot. Here's the formula: A good looking husband and wife stand behind the pulpit. He does all the talking, and she holds onto his arm and looks supportive. He tells the audience ... pardon me, congregation ... about how the bills piled up -- until he started tithing.

After a few months barely scraping by, the couples' finances took an amazing turn for the better. Now they can afford that mansion in a gated community and the second SUV. Turns out Jesus had the Midas touch all along ... all they needed was faith.

The formula also works well if the couple had a sick child, or someone was terminally ill. It's really cool when medical symptoms dissolve along with the debt. Either way, Happy Couple plus Testimonial plus Happy Ending equals Open Wallets ... it's kind of the same script as a Herpes commercial, come to think of it.

My dad and I have this joke. We figure that ten percent (a tithe) must be a magic number. As soon as you hit 10% giving, your bank account goes up. Trouble is, as soon as you exceed that, all bets are off. My dad routinely gives away upwards of 20 percent of his and mom's income, to no avail. They can't even afford a second car or their own house. Of course, he gives much of that money to waitresses, or the guys who change his oil, or some homeless guys. We all know Jesus didn't expect us to give to those losers. He wants us to filter it through the church first, so it can pay for PowerPoints and parking decks before the remainder goes to those annoying widows and orphans.

I've developed a bit of a cynicism about tithing (clearly). First of all, I see no New Testament justification for the Magic Number Ten. Second, I think the concept has been perverted by church fundraising drives. It's heralded as a giving cap, not a starting point. It makes us all feel better about our Hummers and mansions (and, let's face it, our iPods and bar tabs). We get to pretend we've already given God his ten percent, and the rest is ours to spend as we wish.

Jesus was pretty pissed at the Pharisees, who were so careful to tithe they even gave a tenth of their cooking spices while they ignored the poor. He called those men hypocrites, and I think that attitude is still pretty rampant.

So I haven't been tithing to my church. And I don't feel especially guilty, as I feel this response isn't unbiblical, and it's backed up by prayer on my part.

On the other hand, I'm considering starting again ... and possibly backwards tithing for the duration of Cheap Women. I will give ten percent, because it's a number that has spiritual basis, though I still don't see it as a bibilical imperative. But I hope not to stop there, even if the rest of my giving has to take the form of veggie chili and handknit scarves instead of tens and twenties.

The following is part of an email that Stewart sent me earlier today. I felt it was very well put, plus applicable to what we're trying to do with Cheap Women. He sent it as a mass email, so I'm hoping it's okay to re-post here.

Stewart is not a woman, but he does steal coffee from Starbucks every morning, and that is cheap (in a good way). Plus, he once wrote (and recorded, on GarageBand) a rap about Dave Ramsey's envelope system. (The song premiered over the sound system of Jonathan Benton, Bookseller one cold November day. It had a limited run, but was extremely influential.) So I think he's qualified to contribute to the blog.

THE EMAIL ...

I was talking to my friend Josh last night, and the pressures of this season seem to be weighing heavily on both of us. These are my very quick thoughts.

1. Money- After enduring Black Friday and her fiend of an offspring Cyber Monday, I have been noticing that we are buying things we don't need because they are on sale. A television I don't need, even if it is on sale, is still a television I don't need. I encourage us all to be intentional with our money, not just because it is the easiest way for us to flex our democratic muscles, but because the there is a cost that accompanies our dollars that can't be quantified. Every dollar is a vote; I want to consider what I am voting for.

2. Time - It is easy to say, "Spend your time doing good things." So I'll say it. I have noticed that (my own life being the catalyst for this e-mail, and a perfect example of conspicuous consumption of time and money ) we spend an enormous amount of time imagining/fantasising the success of others by idealizing the stories we read, or view on TV. I want to encourage us to be intentional about the moments we spend, and consider the true sources of joy in our lives. I have found that if I intentionally invest a little time in others, the joy that I find in idealizing the life I "could have" becomes a little more real. It is a process, but my inclination is to believe in the healing process: little steps over time become more and more fruitful. Pour into the lives of others. Change the things you can. We all idealize a better society/environment/community- make the difference in the sphere of influence that you have.

I have great hope in the small steps. Something I continue to desire is genuine conviction in the constructions to which we all adhere. For instance, here we are in the midst of the holiday season. If we are being honest, is the birth of Christ an appropriate reason to consume the way we do? I have found that it isn't. I would like some suggestions of ways to abolish "propped up" precedents; and intentionally appreciate the meaning, not only of Christmas, but of the other social/moral/spiritual spheres in which I invest.

Thank you for your time. I wish each one of you a genuinely joyful and peaceful Christmas. I hope you will find true peace in the grace of God.

With sincerity and respect,

Stewart

Proverbs 23:4-5

Do not toil to acquire wealth;
be discerning enough to desist.
When your eyes light on it, it is gone,
for suddenly it sprouts wings,
flying like an eagle toward heaven.

In lieu of crafting an insightful blog, I've spent the evening attempting to fashion a Christmas "tree" out of stuff from my apartment. I regret to report attempts have been unsuccessful.

So far, I have shredded a good deal of styrofoam (it kind of looks like snow ... but only kind of), hurt my finger and broken a kitchen knife.

I just want to buy a tree. Actually, I want to buy a tree the way they do in the movies (or commercials), where everything is perfect and snowing and I'm with someone who loves me and gives me diamonds.

It doesn't seem to matter that I'm not sure I approve of Christmas tree farming because of environmental concerns, and I wouldn't want diamonds because diamond mining practices are so abhorrent, and I don't think I should need a man or a holiday to make me feel complete.

I want it anyway.

** UPDATE **

My dad came through town today and declared my Christmas tree project "pure suck." He wasn't being mean; it's true.

He also said it's a lesson that sometimes being creative just does not work out, even when you have good ideas along the way (like "planting" the tree in a bucket full of toys, which I did).

So we just got back from K-Mart, where Dad bought me a half-price tree, Mucinex and some drinking glasses that I liked. They're not diamonds, but they are sparkly.

In a way, I got exactly what I wanted: a pretty tree, a nice time with someone who loves me, and something shiny. Merry Christmas.

Thirty-three "shopping" days until Christmas ... if only. Happily, most of my friends and family understand that I can't afford to buy presents. Unfortunately, making gifts takes a lot more time. I never thought I'd be longing for a frenzied trip to the Galleria, but I'd gladly trade one crappy Saturday for a couple months of guilty stress.

So many people are truly important to me. My family, for sure (including cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles, etc.). Then there's community group (about ten people), my coworkers (around fifteen), my college friends (five I still keep in touch with), Pensacola friends (three), the booksellers -- current and former -- of Jonathan Benton (seven), former roommates (three), current apartment-mates (four). And then there are fifteen or so people who don't really fit into any of those categories.

Of course, I'm not giving a gift to every person on that list (and there are five or so people who are in more than one category). But, according to Real Simple, Emily Post, The Food Network and the vast Martha Stewart empire of ultra organization, I should "pass the cheer" to everyone in my life, from each and every party hostess to my grandparents' puppy (and, yes, I did hand-bake and personalize dog treats for Tiny last year).

This level of generosity requires time and talent. I'm crafty, but I'm no Martha Stewart. Making holiday gifts takes more than imagination. It takes hours of work and organization. My goal for the past two months has been to make a gift list, and that's still not finished.

True, magazines and television shows that make me feel like I have to make and wrap twenty boxes of homeade peppermint bark (complete with handmade tags) have a vested interest in guilting me into acting like June Cleaver on Red Bull. They need to make advertisers happy, and they need me to buy magazines -- how else will I remember how to make tiny styrofoam snowman pencils.

Still, I feel like a failure as a woman -- yet again -- if I don't give the perfect gift. I don't have a career, a home (my apartment is always in some state of disarray), or a family (not even a date); I still can't even put on eyeliner correctly. Now I can't get a simple Christmas list right. And every year my Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Bars come out looking weird ... even when I'm wearing a cute apron.

It makes me angry to feel so guilty and inadequate for such silly reasons. But I can't seem to shake those feelings. I still feel frustrated with myself for not creating a more organized holiday. Martha says I need to have color coded desk blotters ... maybe she's onto something, because I'm getting nowhere without them.

SHOUT OUTS

My grocery fast is finally over!! My dad brought me to Publix when he dropped me off in Birmingham, and we certainly stocked my pantry. I hadn't realized how much I had actually gone through (I was pretty much left with soy sauce, a ton of rice, frozen edamame and canned beans) until we replenished it all. Props to Dad for not passing out when he saw the bill.

Also, I sold a cozy on the Etsy store! Sure, it was to Lyndsay, who I think is rather partial, but still. (Thanks Lyd ... you've been really amazing through all this.)

Yet another way to vacation cheaply ... take your parents. The past few days I've been celebrating faux Thanksgiving with my mom, dad and sister in Jacksonville, Florida. (We'll all be working on real Thanksgiving, except for Dad, who's going to represent for all of us at the family Thanksgiving in Kansas.)

There are drawbacks, of course. Apparently, since Courtenay and I have left the house, my parents have filled in space by repeating the same conversation over and over. The roadtrip soundtrack went a little like this: "Did you check the map?" "Yes I checked the map." "What does the GPS say?" "Same as the map." "Did we talk to the woman at the rest stop?"

Also, if you're with my parents, you have to put up with the two of them always lagging behind so they can make out on the pier or something. Then they'll say they have to go back to the hotel because they're "tired," but you notice them sneaking away with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

On the upside, my dad won't let me pay for anything. Granted, I haven't exactly been breaking the bank. But it's nice to be able to grab a bag of Ritz Bitz and an orange juice at the gas station without obsessing about money.

In fact, it's been a pretty cheap trip for all of us. We ate most of our meals at cheap places with a lot of local character (if people in Jacksonville drive anything other than bicycles and scooters, I didn't see them) and spent the rest of the time window shopping (The Book Mark is the best-stocked small bookstore I've been to yet) and walking on the beach, discussing the differences between the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico (we're from Pensacola).

I'm typing this from my grandparents' house, a layover on the way back to Birmingham. My parents live here now, both to save themselves some money and to help my grandparents out. It's all very familiar, since we all lived here before (for similar reasons). So I'm planning on laying around, eating my grandmother's free food, and checking out back issues of Real Simple and Wired that my parents subscribe to but I've been skipping for Cheap Women.

It doesn't sound like much of a vacation, but it's exactly what I'd want. And, since my dad rarely sends me back home without at least $20, I'll probably come back richer than I left ... both in money and in spirit.

This is the third blog I've written today. One I deleted totally, and one I saved as a draft for later. It seems like everything I try today is either too trivial or too expansive for me to tackle.

A bit of good news -- this week Lucy's has sold five of my cozies. I'm too gloomy to expect this trend to continue, but even that money helps considerably.

So, in light of my recent good fortune, and semi-blogger's block, this will be a random post (yeah, I know, what's new?).

At the garage sale a couple weeks ago, some random guy offered to buy one of my braids. Someone else offered to buy the thrift store blanket all my stuff was displayed on.

"They" say everything has a price, but that's not really true. I wouldn't sell my grandfather's camera's, and I don't think I'd give up the Molly doll my grandmother gave me when I was eight. But here are some things I would sell ... although it would take a lot.

One Braid -- $150
Two Braids -- $250 (a $50 savings!!)
Magic Quad Blanket -- $350
Favorite (handmade) Scarf (brown) -- $100
Favorite (handmade) Scarf (multi) -- $50

The most valuable things in my life probably wouldn't get more than $10 on eBay. They're worth practically nothing to anyone who isn't me (except maybe the quad blanket, which is truly magical). Honestly, though, I think I like it that way.

November is almost halfway over ... that's hard to swallow. Partly because it's seventy degrees outside (Yes, I know I should be depressed about this. But it's so lovely!), and partly because I thought I'd have more accomplished by now.

I'm realizing that, when January comes and the Cheap Women contest is over, I may or may not be eating Ramen Noodles (check out The Contract, located under WTF, if you don't know what I'm talking about), but I will certainly still have financial problems. I think some part of me thought I could figure out this financial thing in four months.

I was wrong about that. But I've still made some major positive changes. Such as:

Selling Cozies -- I've only sold two cozies (pictured ... aren't they cute!) so far. But Lucy's Coffee and Tea is now carrying them all the time (Stop by! Buy some coffee and a cozy!), and I also have them for sale at www.scarytrolldragon.etsy.com as of yesterday. If I can even sell a few every month, it'll be a nice source of extra income from something I enjoy doing.

Paying off Visa -- American Express is still looming like a three-headed dragon, but it's progress.

Throwing a Garage Sale/ Editing My Stuff -- The sale brought in some needed cash. Even better, my apartment feels more like home and less like the sorting room at Goodwill. So I can hang out here and read a book instead of heading to the Purple Onion ... or Starbucks ... or wherever ... to escape the clutter.

Saying "no" ... or at Least Not Saying "yes" -- It's still difficult for me to turn down dinner with friends or to resist buying a gift to cheer someone up. And when I do say "no," I sometimes do it imperfectly. But I'm learning.

I still have plenty of work for the next month and a half, like refinancing my American Express, selling stuff I didn't sell in the garage sale (i.e. my Smurf glasses, some records, my Sidekick and some vintage clothes), exploring more ways to make money (like stuffing envelopes), and budgeting for my post-Cheap Women life.

But I've cleared out a lot of junk, dealt with bad habits and faced the truth of how much I owe and how little I can afford. So, even if today were December 31, and even if had I spent more money than Elisa and I lost the contest, it's been worth it. Even if I have to eat Ramen for a week.

How many luxuries do we consider necessities? Most of us (at least most of us who regularly check blogs about consumerism) would consider an apartment, a car, a phone and groceries pretty standard. But I'm learning every day that these expenses can be eliminated, or at least edited considerably, with some sacrifice, a little creativity, and a lot of humility.

Four years ago, I returned my car to my parents. It's a decision I made well before Cheap Women, and it's had a profound effect on my finances, and on my life. It's shocked me how often I benefit from getting rid of my car, and how infrequently I feel truly inconvenienced.

In 2004, I was managing a bookstore. It was fulfilling work, and I loved it. But the pay was horrible, and I realized that, unless I wanted to give up the bookstore, I would have to let something in my life go. The only "big ticket" items in my life at the time were rent, my cell phone, and my car.

I already had roommates, and I wasn't willing to give up my cell phone. In order to get rid of my car, I needed to make some major changes. I moved within walking distance of work and a grocery store. I alerted friends that I'd either need to stay at home or call on them more for rides. I priced rental cars for when I wanted to visit my family in Pensacola. I convinced my parents that it wasn't such a bad idea for their little girl to walk home from work at 10:00 at night (my dad bought me mace).

The first year, I didn't have a vehicle at all. I do happen to have amazing friends who gave me rides (probably more than they liked). But I walked a lot, too. I walked to church in Five Points. I walked to Homewood to pay bills. I walked an hour -- in the rain -- to vote in the presidential election (yes, that's how important voting is ... consider this my Veteran's Day shout-out).

I didn't make money from my car, because I gave it to my parents (they had given it to me, after all). But I saved on insurance and gas. I saved far more on hidden expenses: Drive-thru fast food was out, as were extra grocery expenses (I could only buy what I could carry home). No longer could a messy apartment be "cured" by a cute new lamp from Target, and I couldn't lift my mood with a mocha and a shopping trip at The Summit.

I've never been a big spender, at least not of expensive items. But I'm terrible about spending hundreds on "cheap" five- and twenty-dollar purchases. Limited mobility cut way back on impulse spending.

After living without a car for a year, I chose to move into an apartment across town with my sister. I explored bus routes, but Birmingham's transit system is nothing more than a cruel joke played on the poor and a pawn for dome proponents to push around in their bitter and illogical political diatribes. Instead, I bought a Vespa. It cost about $2500 (you won't get a new Vespa for that price now, but this was before the war ... or whatever ... jacked up gas prices and put scooters in high demand).

I thought scootering would be cheap but wildly inconvenient. I was wrong. Yes, it's cheap: I spend between $3 and $5 in gas every two or three weeks. My insurance is $300 -- a year. Repairs are much less than for a car (for example, my tires cost around $50).

There are inconveniences, as I remember every day as it gets colder and I put on extra layers to face the chilly 5:30 a.m. air. I dread rain, partly due to shoddy rain gear (I basically just wear a raincoat and hope to dry quickly) and partly because of distracted drivers and super-slick roads. And I wasn't terribly happy when a bee flew up the sleeve of my hoodie and stung me. But, all in all, there aren't too many weather hazards in globally warmed Birmingham, Alabama.

The biggest surprise was how amazing it feels to ride a scooter. Remember how much you loved riding a bike when you were a kid? I get this feeling every day, everywhere I drive. Even the cold and rain often (not always, admittedly, but often) feels like an adventure. I can feel the change in temperature when I ride down the mountain ... I am completely surrounded by a beautiful sunset ... I can literally smell the proverbial roses. I sound like a nut for saying it, but riding my scooter makes me feel more alive. Ask any biker (scooter, motorcycle, bicycle, whatever) and you'll probably get the same answer.

The point isn't that everyone should buy a scooter (although I do recommend it, I realize it's not right for everyone). The point is, when we sacrifice material possessions, we often meet benefits that greatly outweigh our inconvenience. It makes me wonder about other "necessities." Would giving up my cell phone force me to make more real conversation? Does spending less on food, and accepting more free meal offers, force me to share meals with friends I would normally not make time for? Would sharing an apartment with several roommates (to save on rent) create a tight community I could depend on?

There are some sacrifices I'm willing to make (the car), some I'm not (my apartment), some I'll meet half-way (food), and some I'm scared to consider, even though I'd like to (my phone). They all force me to make my world bigger and depend more on other people -- something that's pretty difficult in our insular, fiercely independent culture. But if I'm the Cheap Woman I say I am, I need to at least consider sacrifice a real possibility.

So I've been knitting all day, and I'm still only up to eight coozies. Ack! No matter how many I get finished, though, I've really enjoyed chilling out at my house all day, watching DVDs of Roswell and remembering college (my roommates and I were totally addicted to that show).

I'll have lots of coozies for sale tomorrow, and they're not all as girlie as the one pictured (you can see them in the background of the picture on the top shelf). I'm selling them for $10 apiece ... they're machine washable and they'll fit all kinds of beverages, from cans to bottles to glasses to Starbucks cups.

So come to Lucy's tomorrow between 9 and 5 and buy my stuff! (Anna and Jimmy will have clothes and knitting for sale, too.)

Elisa got a new job, and I can only think of one thing to say ... oh shit. (That, and, you know, congratulations or whatever.)

I am truly happy that Elisa is making her way in the corporate world, but where does that leave me in the contest? Sure, she'll (hopefully) be throwing down over a business suit or two (or whatever you wear when you have freedom beyond khakis and a white or black collared shirt), but I hardly think I can sit back and wait for her to overspend. (It's not a good contest strategy ... and it's not very nice.)

You might have noticed that Elisa will be making about TWICE her current salary. While you're cheering for her, remember ... right now, Elisa and I make the same salary. So she'll be making twice my salary. This cheap woman has some work to do.

The garage sale was a good start (my total was about $325), but I can't stop there. The way I see it, I need a two-pronged defense strategy: Make more, Spend less. (Groundbreaking, I know.)

I'm already on board with spending less, but how to make more? I work about 40 hours a week at Starbucks, so it's not like I have a lot of spare time. I've also been picking up hours at my old bookstore, but they only have so much to give me.

First off, I'm increasing my output for a craft fair this Saturday. It's at Lucy's ... right next to the Starbucks at UAB. And, yes, you not only get good coffee and superior pastries (sorry, Starbucks fans, but our pastries are crap), you get karma points for supporting local business.

I'll post more details about the sale later, but right now I'm concentrating on knitting a bunch of coozies for the event. My goal is to knit 20 by Saturday (that's an incredibly ambitious -- borderline stupid -- goal, by the way). Friday I'm off work, so I've declared it "The Day of A Thousand Coozies" and I'm planning to knit as long as my little fingers can stand it. (I mean "a thousand" figuratively, of course.)

A friend of mine is stuffing envelopes for a local stationary store and, apparently, making quite a bit of money. It's time consuming and monotonous, but you can watch movies while you work. And I love movies! Anyway, when my schedule clears a bit (yeah right ... here's hoping), I'm going to ask if I can sign up too.

The trick is to find work that will earn me some extra cash while still being somewhat enjoyable. I like the idea of coozies and envelopes because they allow me to make money at home (I really like my apartment).

The bottom line is, this contest would be easier if Elisa hadn't gone and gotten rich (yeah, that's a joke ... twice our salary still requires careful budgeting, just not monthly panic attacks). But it wouldn't be as interesting. Can I make as much money serving coffee and crafting as Elisa will climbing the corporate ladder? Time (and by "time" I mean "December") will tell. I'm looking forward to the challenge.

SHOUT OUTS
KEVIN ... for free Bright Eyes tickets!

This blog was once longer, meaner and a lot more relevant.

I try to lay out my financial problems here with honesty and humor. That leads to lots of people being "all up in my business" (I'm laughing a lot at myself for having typed that, by the way). That irritates me sometimes, but it feels good to be a part of this financial dialogue. Also, I'm happy to be inviting different viewpoints on my financial life.

Blogging gets sticky, however, when someone else is involved. If I feel strongly about a money situation (like borrowing money from a friend or splitting the bill at The Purple Onion), I want to blog about it. But I don't want to hurt that other person, especially not for the sake of a website.

I guess this is the nature of having a blog, and I should probably be surprised that it's only just come up. I'm sure there's a way to blog about this situation without naming names and pointing fingers, I just have to find it.

But right now I'm annoyed that I have to find a nice way to say what I mean ... especially about someone who reads the blog regularly and feels very free to comment on my mistakes. I'm not going to publish the original blog, but it's hard to tell whether I'm being a better person or a coward.

Garage Sale Today! (NOVEMBER 3)
7 A.M. to NOON
1027 30th Street South (Virginia Court Apartments)

Sorry about infrequent blogging this week ... this garage sale is turning out to be more than we bargained for (is that a pun?).

Currently, it's almost 2 a.m. and I'm taking a break from packing my stuff into a zillion boxes. My next job is to go through the clothes under my bed to decide what to try to sell at the sale and what to put on consignment. Ahhh! Then I'm supposed to "wake up" (like I'm going to get sleep tonight) at 5 a.m. to go brew coffee to give away at the sale.

The good news is most of my stuff is priced and the majority of it is in boxes and ready to go. Just a few hours ago, I was stressing out to the point of hyperventilation, so I'd like to thank Jimmy for talking me down from the proverbial ledge and giving me a lot of direction and help in pulling everything off. Also thanks to Cary for spending several hours tonight formatting my old PowerBook so I can sell it.

I really hope to make money tomorrow, since I need it. But, regardless, it feels good to know that I'm getting rid of so much of the stuff that's been weighing me down. I have a long way to go, but this is a big first step.