I had big plans for this week.

The final days of this year also mark the end of Cheap Women. I'd made a list of a few big tasks to finish (budget, consign some old clothes, deposit my Christmas money). I had lots of ideas for blogging that I haven't been able to write about yet. And I was looking forward to tallying up who, finally, would be named the ultimate Cheap Woman.

Life had other plans. Elisa's life fell apart this week, while most of her friends were out of town for the holidays. It would have been ridiculously selfish of me to put the contest before her well-being. It would have been stupidly sacrificial for either of us to put saving before comfort. In the few hours I found between working and caring for my friend, I tried to sleep or pray, not blog.

Instead of a fury of finishing tasks and counting pennies, we've spent the week giving ourselves permission to pay for funny movies and good food, even letting ourselves buy small luxuries like homey candles and pretty lotions.

I think it would have been understandable if Elisa had gone a little off the deep end on spending this week. Still, she didn't. One of the few bright spots of this week has been a realization of all we have learned through this contest. We relish the real changes that have taken place. We've skipped senseless purchases, realizing that there is nothing we can buy that can complete us or fix this situation. We've taken life a little more slowly, giving ourselves time to enjoy a little instead of accumulating a lot.

I walked through Barnes and Noble today, alone. I was tired, emotionally exhausted, sad, and a little sick. I saw at least five things I could have legitimately justified purchasing. I even have a little extra cash from generous Christmas gifts. But I didn't. I know Elisa has the magazine I wanted, and I didn't mind waiting and borrowing it from her. I know I can order the books through the bookstore I used to work for and save thirty percent (and support my friends and local economy in the process). I know I can drive to a Starbucks where I work and get a free or discounted Chai instead of paying full price for one at Barnes and Noble.

Sometimes the Cheap Life is about sacrificing. Sometimes it's about selling everything you possibly can to make some cash. But, sometimes, it's just about waiting for the right time. Sometimes it's about choosing creativity over consumption. Sometimes it's about learning to be content with love and friendship and not hiding behind a wall of possessions. And, yes, sometimes it's about paying full price for you and a friend to get dinner and see a movie.

I love what Cheap Women has taught me. It's been good on my check book and my debt. I'm slowly learning to find real peace with my finances. But, more than that, it's helped me lean on my friends and my church when I need to instead of insisting on independence. And it's helped me learn to be there in real ways -- financial and otherwise -- when they need me back.

I'm calling the contest a draw. The last thing Elisa needs right now is Ramen and old clothes. The last thing I want is to claim to be a winner when, really, what I've been all along is a partner and a fellow traveler.

We may post into the new year, or we may close up shop ... we're really not sure yet. But both Elisa and I thank all of our readers for your support and your comments ... and your free food. The Cheap Women experience would have been far less rich without you.

This week, Elisa experienced a death in her close family. She's understandably upset, but she's handling things as well as one can when something like this happens.

We've spent a lot of time together (she's staying at my house for a few days), and the visit has been oddly refreshing, although it came out of tragedy. We've put aside our contest and our strict personal finance rules and allowed ourselves to enjoy life in the way we both love to -- sharing meals at Al's, enjoying movies, watching live music. We even bought a couple candles and a book.

These material comforts do cost money, and we haven't forgotten that, even in a time of crisis. But if twenty bucks can buy a hurting friend some measure of relief ... and even pleasure ... during a time of tragedy, I think it's money well spent.

It's hard for Elisa to talk to anyone right now, and I'm out of a phone. We'd both appreciate it if personal messages were directed to our emails (cheapwomencarrie@gmail.com and cheapwomenelisa@gmail.com) instead of the comments section of the blog.

Thanks. Elisa knows our thoughts and prayers are with her.

Today I am giving up my Blackberry.

I'm not as addicted as most Blackberry users (obviously, I'm giving it up), but I do really like my phone. I like that it can do anything. I like that it is cute and small and white (like my computer and my Vespa ... oh, wait ... I guess just like my computer). I like that I can check the Cheap Women site using the Internet on my phone whenever I want to.

But I'm trying to cut costs wherever I can, and I don't need extras on my phone. And I don't need an expensive phone. (Disclaimer: I actually got the phone for free from letstalk.com. But I can still sell it and make some cash.) My sister wants to buy the phone today, and I've decided to let her.

This leaves me in a bit of a bind, and I'm not sure what to do. One option is to sign a new contract and get the cheapest plan possible. There are two problems here. One, cell phone plans are terribly confusing to me and I get dizzy when I try to figure out which one is the best option. Also, I like text messaging and don't know how that figures into dirt cheap plans (so far, seems like it doesn't).

Anyway, I feel like it's some sort of treason against our culture to not have a cell phone. Plus, it seems like my luck to break down by the side of the road and be unable to call for help. With any luck, though, I can avoid these pitfalls. Honestly, I'm a little excited to experience life without a phone.

Until then, if you need me, I'll be at Starbucks every morning.

I'm very proud of Elisa for having the courage to write about what happened. It was difficult for us to decide whether to include it in the blog, partly because we didn't want to hurt her fiance's family, and partly because it was just so embarrassing for Elisa.

However, we made a commitment at the beginning of this adventure to open our financial lives to the world, for a little bit. We said we'd be honest. We said we'd be open. I never thought laying out our financial lives would require one of us to be so open about the rest of her life -- lost hope, mangled love, and hurtful betrayal -- as well.

I left the decision of whether or not to write about this to Elisa. I let her know that her feelings and our friendship are more important than any blog, and that we'd find a way to end this contest without explaining if that was what she wanted. It was her decision to be so upfront. But I think it was a good one.

It's a huge lesson that money is so pervasive and divisive sometimes. We can't relegate money to our checkbooks ... it seeps into our whole lives. Sometimes seems like it is our whole lives.

What better reason to take time to focus on money? To recognize its impact and try to organize our lives so that money is something we can use, not something that uses us.

I loved Elisa's quote: "Money is powerful, but not as powerful as it used to be in my life." I feel that way too, and I'm so thankful that Cheap Women has helped us both get to that place. I'm also thankful for a friend like Elisa, who is brave enough to be honest about hard things in her life, and who had the courage to be so open to love in the first place.

On a break at work today, I sat with a couple friends from college and frantically knitted the last of a scarf (Christmas gift) while we discussed Cheap Women.

Laura talked about some of the ways her parents save money (like freezing lots of post-Halloween pumpkins that stores give away free), and it got me thinking about the ways my own parents and grandparents creatively save money.

Most of my friends (me included) graduated college with the idea that we should have lives just like those we left with our parents. We moved into our own apartments (and bought our own houses) and immediately got cable and furniture and a fridge full of food.

How did we get this impatient? Is it really just our credit cards that have convinced us that waiting is unnecessary, or is this attitude indicative of a bigger societal problem? I feel like we aren't willing to work or wait for anything anymore -- whether it's material goods or a career or a home or love.

Maybe it's always been this way. But I think about some of those "old" cheap ideas, like saving a freezer full of pumpkin, or making a quilt from old clothes, or making curtains from fabric scraps instead of ordering new ones from Ikea.

It seems these items carry with them some history, and some reminder of the work and time that make our comforts possible. We like to say that old, handmade or worn items have "character." But maybe the real point is the character their presence builds in us.

Okay, so I've been comparing my makeup (foundation, base, whatever you want to call it) to the widow's oil of the Bible, to varying degrees of horror and misunderstanding.

You see, I should have been out of foundation more than a month ago. Around Halloween, I figured I would run out any day. Each day since, I've been able to coax just enough out of the bottle to give me some semblance of life over my 4:45 a.m. pallor. A modern miracle!

Today, however, it all ended. The wine turned back into water (I'm mixing my parable metaphors!) and my makeup ran out. I even tried unscrewing the top, but there's just too little.

This is made worse because, due to this contest, I can't afford good skin products.
Today is officially my first day of trying to simply wash my face using a bar of Dove soap. It goes so strongly against what every magazine has ever told me that I really feel wrong using it. So far I can't tell much difference, but I do smell a lot like my grandma.

After packing all my gifts into an oversized Army bag so I could carry them on the scooter, today I finally mailed my Christmas gifts ... it was almost fifty dollars!!! Okay, some of it was eBay stuff, and the buyers paid for that. Still. No wonder Santa does his own deliveries -- USPS is highway robbery.

I'm considering leaning out my window (which is open, due to the summer weather) and tossing out handfuls of money. I think it'd have about the same effect as my recent spending habits.

It seems this year few people are having holiday parties. Instead, everybody's inviting me to stuff that actually costs money. Tonight I'm going out to eat (dutch) with a friend, tomorrow I'm going to a benefit for Darfur. (It's at WorkPlay tomorrow night. It'll be fun because there will be good bands and ME, and it's a good cause and all that. Nothing improves your Christmas karma like listening to music and donating money in hopes of stopping genocide. So, come.)

Then there are the inevitable "I'm busy and stressed so I deserve a baked potato" meals. (And, yes, I realize that's probably not a completely appropriate use of the word "inevitable.")

And tomorrow I'm planning on mailing gifts, and I'm sure it'll be freakishly expensive. Ahhh!

All this makes me wonder if I'm actually saving money by making my own gifts. Or, at least, if I'm saving enough.

Okay, I'm off to have dinner with one of my best friends who I never get to see because I've been too busy knitting and wrapping. And, yes, I'm bringing a knitting project to dinner. And, yes, I am a dork.

Am I allergic to shopping? I think maybe. I'm like those people who don't eat dairy for so long that they become lactose intolerant. (Does this happen? I used to be a vegan so I've read a lot of propaganda on the subject. Who knows if it's true.)

I tried to go Christmas shopping on Saturday. I didn't have a long list, I went with someone I generally enjoy hanging out with, and there was a free lunch at the Purple Onion involved. Still, I felt a little sick. Not ranch fries sick. Spending sick.

Maybe it was different because I was shopping more for supplies than finished products. Basically, my list consisted of blank journals, a board game and fortune cookies. (And if anyone knows where I can buy fortune cookies, please pass it on. The Asian markets have turned me away.) They were all (except the game) just raw materials so that I can make the real gifts myself.

If shopping is the sickness, though, I've found an antidote: I'm truly enjoying being creative in gifting and wrapping. I'm only straight-up buying a handful of gifts (maybe five). Yes, that's more pressure, because I want my crafty presents to be good gifts that happen to be handmade, not piles of junk that're supposed to mean something just because I made them. But I'm really happy with several of my ideas, and I think the recipients will like them, too.

I feel like I'm creating something that my friends will really love, and that's the best part of gift giving. I'm so excited about my gift ideas that I want to post them here, but my friends and family read the site, so I think it's best to keep quiet. I am planning on posting them after Christmas, so feel free to revisit then and pilfer my ideas for next year.

In the meantime, I'm going to stay at home with my knitting needles and stay away from the mall. Apparently, it's literally making me sick.

I'm clumsy ... really clumsy. When I was a little girl, I used to fall down all the time. Not because I was running or playing outside. (Perish the thought. All I did was sit inside and read.) No, I fell when I was standing still. Almost every night during dinner, I'd just fall off my chair for no reason.

I probably have some weird equilibrium disease. Someday I'm sure it'll get worse and I'll be sent to see Dr. House. He'll give me a couple extra diseases, then my liver will fail, then he'll finally figure out what's really wrong.

Until then, I'm trying to staying upright and avoid foreign objects. Oddly, yoga helps me quite a bit: Something about it helps adjust my balance and spacial concept. (When I was younger, my mom put me in ballet classes, hoping they'd have the same benefit. They did.)

Problem is, I can't afford yoga class. After three months, its balancing effect seems to be wearing off. So are the more documented benefits of yoga, like reduced back pain and lower stress. Now my wrist hurts, my back is killing me, and I'm weighed down by anxiety.

Yoga is $12 a session, and that really adds up. But so does back pain. I'm starting to see that some things -- like those protecting my health -- may be worth breaking the budget.

I want to start a Lunch Box Co-op. The idea is this: Get together with two or more other people. Let's say I ask Elisa and Anna to do this with me. Every week, each of us would choose two lunches and make enough for three people. I think the lunches would have to be freezable or at least last in the fridge for a week.

Anyway, once a week we'd meet and trade. That way I'd come away with six lunches: two of mine, two of Elisa's and two of Anna's. They'd each come away with six meals as well.

I'm excited about this idea partly because it would save me from eating frozen dinners (not many cheap brands carry vegetarian options) and pilfering from the pastry case at work.

Also, I'm pretty sure this could really save money, since buying separate ingredients for six different meals gets expensive and wasteful ... buying for only two saves cash. Also, it would save time, since it's easier to cook two meals of three servings than six meals of one serving (this is starting to sound like a third grade math problem).

Maybe this is all too complicated, and it wouldn't really work. But I think it's worth a try. Besides the savings, it has the possibility of exposing us to new dishes. It would save waste for those of us who eat out or buy frozen boxed dinners regularly. And there's something nice about eating food a friend has prepared for you.

Logistically, I think this would work best for people who see each other regularly or live near each other. I want to start it for my neighborhood. So, if anyone lives near here and is interested in joining the Lunch Box Co-op, let me know. The more of us there are, the cheaper and easier it will be.

Well, we did it. One morning spent with our bank and credit card statements, a few highlighters and some paper clips (office supplies make all kinds of monotony easier to bear) and Elisa and I have official totals from September through November.

Keep checking the totals blog through December to know exactly where we are as we head toward the finish line.

Currently, I'm about $500 ahead of Elisa. (I'm $250 in the black; she's about $250 in the red.)

Keep in mind, though, that Elisa's just started her new job. She'll get paid twice in December, and she'll probably make about $1000 more than I will in the month. That means I've got some saving to do ... and some scrambling for more money.

Speaking of, I have some cozies to finish.