So, when I bought the Costco Lifetime Supply of RoC Retinol Correxion Deep Wrinkle Night Cream gunk, as part of the new lifestyle retread scheme, I thought I was buying the usual wussy over-the-counter pretend cosmetico-pharmaceutical, designed and pitched to make the customer feel good but in reality unlikely to do much of anything.
Wrong!
It definitely does something. What exactly the something is remains to be seen. However, at the moment it’s a shade on the alarming side.
The stuff stings a little when you put it on, but I took that as unremarkable, because the Alpha-Hydrox I used to smear on my face did the same. Today, however, an hour or two after I’d rubbed this stuff in, covered it with an SPF 45 sun block, and powdered over the whole mess with SPF 20 makeup, my cheeks and chin started to hurt and feel uncomfortably parched.
Naturally, I was on the campus, so there was nothing I could do to get it off. Not for several hours after this burning sensation began did I get home where I could remove the layers of makeup and goop.
Once I washed it all off, what I discovered is that my face looks like it’s been burned. Not critically—like a middling sunburn, I’d say. But still: the irritation is there, and the skin all over my cheeks and nose has turned bright red.
I have been staying out of the sun, and each morning I’ve applied a liberal dose of Neutrogena’s best SPF 45 sun cream, plus some fairly opaque makeup also advertised to have some SPF qualities. So I doubt that it’s sunburn. I think it’s a reaction to the wrinkle gunk.
The package copy says, “You may experience mild tingling and redness during use.” Hm. I’m not sure “mild” is the term I’d use here. It continues: “This is normal and should be temporary until your skin adjusts.”
We shall see.
In the meantime, we’ll be hurrying the “adjustment” along by cessation. I’m going to quit using this stuff, at least until the inflammation subsides.
I probably overdid the slathering by applying the gunk in the morning as well as at night. The package does say you can do this, as long as you’re careful to use sunblock and hats. But it seems to recommend using it at night only.
A number of users have complained about similar discomfort. Unlike this woman, I do not have sensitive skin (to the contrary), but the effect fits what she describes, except for the eye symptoms. Presumably the redness and burning sensation will go away, one hopes without lasting damage.
If you’re going to use RoC or something like it, I’d suggest a conservative approach. It might be wise to try it on a small patch for a few days (it took several days for this reaction to develop!). Also, I certainly wouldn’t advise applying it more than once a day—maybe less than that, once every two or three days.
While it’s less than pleasant to go around in old-lady rhino hide, some things may be worse…
This afternoon the head of our neighborhood association sent this interesting report from one of the residents:
My family and I live in the northwest part of the R*** P*** neighborhood. At 5:15 pm my five children were home together as their dad was working and I’d gone to a school function—about 20 minutes after I left with a girlfriend, whose son was also at my house, a beat-up black Cadillac or that type of car pulled up right in front of our driveway and one man got out and came to the door while three others waited in the car. My oldest daughter (15) watched the man come up to our front door and knock—she didn’t recognize him and got the little ones (4, 3, 19 months) together in my oldest son’s room (11). My son’s room is right next to the front door and he could see the man, in his 20’s, white, buzz cut with light brown or reddish hair and wire glasses. He was also wearing a green shirt that said “Carp” on the back. My daughter said the man didn’t seem too clean and had nothing in his hands to suggest selling something. She said the passengers saw her through our front window and one in the back seat was texting on the phone. The man knocked and then rattled the doorknob for approx 7 to 10 minutes. The man looked into my son’s room through the window and my oldest daughter shut all the shutters and curtains and called the police, but the man and his friends left before the police arrived. My daughter saw the car turn around and drive towards 19th ave. Luckily, we have an alarm and my daughter set it after the police left so she could feel a little safer.
My girlfriend and her son and me and my children were all in my front yard for about an hour before we left to go to the school function, so it makes me think our house was being watched. The odd part is that we had two cars parked in front of our house, so it did look like someone was home. (Normally the cars aren’t there.) Then again, the man definitely saw my daughter and son and heard the younger ones. It seems he wanted in the house.
I’m only going into so much detail because of course I feel terrible that I wasn’t home, but also because it seems like our house was targeted. I’m concerned that these people wanted in the house, that it was daylight, there were obviously children home, and in fact a neighbor’s bike was near our front door but it wasn’t taken.
Holy mackerel! That’s one of the scariest stories I’ve heard in the 17 years or so that I’ve lived in this neighborhood. During that time, we’ve had two home invasions that I know of, but neither involved Bad Guys going after a clutch of children.
The northwest section of the neighborhood is not very good. It’s an area that’s been severely thumped by a series of unhappy circumstances: a slummy supermarket that went unregulated by the City despite chronic code violations; a huge, noisy intersection over which the cops like to park their helicopters while chasing perps; proximity to a set of apartments that have been allowed to turn into tenements and to a blighted district that’s your basic war zone; and most recently the corrosive destruction wrought by the unfinished and apparently never-to-be-finished lightrail train tracks. It was harder hit by the depRecession than any other part of the neighborhood, with the result that even more of the housing than before has been turned into rentals—and they already had plenty of weedy, run-down rentals.
Because of the blighted rentals, it’s reasonable to suspect these characters meant to visit one of their drug-dealing colleagues and had the wrong address. On the other hand, if the mother is right in thinking they were being watched, then obviously they knew only children were home. In that case, it’s very creepy.
I walk the dog at night. And when the weather is nice—as it has been today—I like to have my doors and windows open. Guess I’m going to have to rethink those behaviors…
We’ve been talking, on and off, about routes to financial freedom, defined as a life off the day-job treadmill that leaves you free to do what you want to do with your time, not what someone else decides you should do. It takes time to achieve this freedom. You need get enough education or vocational training to land a job that will produce enough income to allow you to build some savings, and you need to live not only within that income but below it. An important part of your early-escape strategy is to get a roof over your head that’s paid for.
Yes. Pay off your mortgage.
In some circles, that’s tantamount to sacrilege. But the fact is, the largest chunk of cash flying out most people’s doors is the mortgage payment, and most of that payment consists of interest. The putative income tax break, if you look hard at it, is negligible compared to the amount of money that goes down the toilet in the form of loan interest. Mortgage interest can more than double the amount you end up paying for your house.
If you have a program like Quicken, it’s easy to figure that amount. Using the loan calculator, enter your principal, the interest rate, and the number of months to pay-off, and the program will generate an amortization schedule showing, in detail, how much each payment reduces the principal and how much, in total, you will have paid by x or y date. You can accomplish the same calculation, though, with Excel or an open-source spreadsheet. Over at The Simple Dollar, Trent provides an easy step-by-step guide to setting up your own loan calculator in Excel.
However you arrive at the full picture, what you find can be startling. M’hijito and I owe $211,000 on the downtown house. At 4.3 percent, over 30 years we will pay $164,907 in interest alone, meaning that if we hang onto the place that long (and it this point it appears we will be forced to do so), we will pay almost $376,000 for the house. When I bought my first house, I paid $100,000 for it, borrowing $80,000 at 8.2 percent on a 30-year traditional loan. At that rate, I would have paid $169,200 for interest alone, way more than doubling the ultimate price of the house.
Whether it’s worth that much in 30 years is beside the point. The point is, a $211,000 mortgage represents $376,000 that doesn’t go into savings. It’s $376,000 that doesn’t go toward achieving bumhood. Every month that we pay toward this loan is a month that a principal-and-interest payment of $1,044 goes into someone else’s pocket.
If he were paying toward rent instead, that also would be money down the toilet: the renter puts money in someone else’s pocket with no hope of ever owning anything and no end to the outgo. At least when you buy a house, you have a chance of paying it off and putting a roof over your head that costs you little or nothing, from day to day.
(It must be noted, though that owning your house is never free. You still will owe taxes on it, and you’re crazy if you don’t buy insurance. Maintenance and repair costs can be significant. These expenses require most mortgage-liberated homeowners to self-escrow something each month in an account to cover such costs.)
The key to bumhood is getting out of debt, and that includes mortgage debt. A thousand bucks (or more) that stays in your pocket each month represents a large fraction of the amount a bum needs to live in comfort and contentment. Given that a person who lives modestly in a city with a reasonable cost of living really needs only about $2,000 to $3,000 net a month, a thousand dollars gets you a third to half-way there!
So…how on earth do you go about doing this? The cost of a house is crushing. What human being can possibly afford to pay for one in full in anything less than an adult lifetime?
Well, I suspect most people can. Here’s the strategy:
1. Buy a house that’s within your means.
Where is it written that you have to live like Pharoah? No one really needs a McMansion. Many smaller houses offer charm, comfort, decent neighborhoods, and ease of maintenance.
If living in a prestigious district is your thing, look for middle-class neighborhoods that border fancier areas. My house, for example, is in a very ordinary neighborhood that abuts a district of million-dollar homes, two blocks from a lovely park. Obviously, if you have kids the school district is important, and so you’ll need to add that consideration into your calculation. It’s worth investigating whether sending a child or two to parochial or private school might actually be cheaper than buying a more expensive house in an area with top-rated public schools, especially if you can qualify for scholarships or tuition assistance.
2. Get the shortest conventional loan you can manage.
Because interest rates on a 15-year loan are lower than those for a 30-year loan, the payments are not that much higher. For example, with a 6.5 percent rate on a 15-year loan for my original $100,000 home, the principal and interest would have been only $128 more than what I was paying toward the 30-year instrument.
Never take on a variable-rate mortgage. Adjustable rates always adjust upwards. Even when the prime rate goes down, banks find excuses to raise the mortgage payments.
And, given the communal experience of the past couple of years, we know never to accept anything “creative” from the loan department.
3. Pay extra toward principal.
Even if you have a 30-year loan, you can speed the payoff date by paying down principal each month or, if you’re paid semiweekly, by applying some or all of your so-called “extra” paychecks to principal. Another strategy is to apply all of one spouse’s net salary to principal, if you can afford to live on one partner’s income.
The downtown house, for example, cost so much that there was no way we could have made payments on a 15-year basis. However, if we added $130 a month in principal payments, we would pay the house off in 24 years instead of 30. Applying all of his roommate’s $400/month rent payment toward principal would pay the loan in a little over 17 years. Combine the two—$130 out of our pocket and $400 from the renter—and we could kill the loan in 15 years.
4. Build side income streams and apply that money to principal.
A spouse’s salary, a second job, a roommate, a hobby monetized: all these sources of cash can be used to pay down the mortgage. Because lowering principal cuts the interest portion of future payments, it’s helpful to pay extra toward principal on a regular basis (whether it’s monthly, quarterly, semiannually, or even just once a year). But no law says the extra payments can’t be sporadic. Whenever you get a chance to earn extra money, take it, and then use the net to pay down the loan.
5. Apply all windfalls to principal.
I paid off my first house by saving every post-tax penny of spousal support (having lucked into a decently paid job) and investing it. About five years after I bought the house, I used the cash I’d saved plus a small inheritance to pay off the mortgage.
Was it easy to break a chunk out of my savings to throw at the house? Nope. Have I ever regretted it? Nope.
It probably was the smartest thing I ever did. Once SDXB moved out, I could not have paid the PITI and survived on my net income without a roommate or a domestic partner, neither of which was in the cards. The house’s value continued to grow, so that when I was ready to move to a somewhat nicer house in a quieter corner of the neighborhood, I could pay for the next place in cash. And when I was laid off my job, there was no worry about whether I would lose my home.
6. Choose your house wisely.
Purchase with an eye to staying in the place permanently. That’s right: for the rest of your life. Consider whether the neighborhood is likely to remain stable or even improve over several decades, and whether the construction will stand the test of time.
Remember, your house’s value will increase in lockstep with all the other real estate in your area. While the place may appear to double in value over 15 or 20 years, so has everyplace else! This means that if you’ve paid off your mortgage and you want to avoid taking on new mortgage payments when you move, you’ll have to buy a comparable house. Paying off a mortgage means that you’ll be living in similar housing forever, unless you’re willing to take on new debt.
As you can see, this project entails some trade-offs. Unless you earn a ton of money, you likely will not be living in an elegant palace. To get into a decent school district, you may have to take a lesser house than you could have afforded in a neighborhood with weaker public schools. And you’ll need to seek contentment and ego gratification from sources other than real estate, downsizing your housing expectations to fit your long-term goal.
Of course, we know one of us is perfect in every way, right?
Do you find it difficult to be patient with people whose foibles are really not significantly worse than your own? I have to keep reminding myself to be kind. Sometimes. Like, f’r example…
When the friend who likes his wine calls on the phone three sheets to the wind (again!) and drones on, on, and further on about nothing very much. Invariably he calls when I’m in the middle of something I’d like to get finished with now, not later. So his interrupting me while I’m struggling to get through some involved or laborious project does nothing to enhance my gracious personality. And then he bores me stupid with an endless monologue rehearsing all the uninteresting trivia of his day as though these were earthshaking matters of state. The entire one-sided conversation, which groans along until I tell him to get off the phone because I’m busy, concerns one subject and one subject alone: himself. The only responses that are expected or allowed are “uh huh,” hmmm,” “how wonderful,” and “isn’t that interesting?” Even those are hard to wedge in edgewise.
I hate listening to drunks on the phone. Even amiable drunks.
True, we should give thanks that at least he sleeps well at night. His perennially shit-faced cousin used to call at 2:00 in the morning and natter on in exactly the same way. On and on. And on.
Today when he called I managed to blurt out that a mutual friend has sold her house and is moving to his neck of the woods.
“Well, don’t give her my phone number!” said he.
“Don’t give her your phone number? Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to listen to her go on and on about hummingbirds. She’s the most boring person I’ve ever met!”
Heeeee!
Then he proceeded to tell me, for the third time, about the glories of his startling discovery that you can put an egg in bread dough.
Yes. Did you know you can put an egg in bread dough? You can. You can put an egg in bread dough.
The Times didn’t arrive at the usual hour this morning (nor, I notice, did the Arizona Repulsive, delivered to the neighbors). It finally did show up, around 9:00 a.m.: it was reclining in a puddle of rainwater when I went to drive out of the garage.
A paper that gets to me after breakfast is a paper that arrives too late. I won’t even open the thing. I won’t have time to look at it, because I’ll be fully engaged in the hectic round of time-consuming, repetitive, can’t-be-neglected activities that is my daily life. And my life isn’t even especially busy, compared to most people’s.
As newspaper subscribers realize they’re paying to have half-a-forest of pulped wood delivered to their front doorstep that they have no time to read, they cancel their subscriptions. Revenues fall and management cuts back on the delivery of news. We get less content, less serious reporting, less of value. More readers cancel. In due time, the paper falters and then fails.
That’s about where I am with the Times just now. The only reason I haven’t canceled is that I got a smokin’ deal while I was on the ASU faculty. If I cancel the paper and then decide I want it back, that incredible bargain won’t be available again. I certainly can’t afford to subscribe to the New York Times at its full price. In addition, the Times is instituting a scheme to limit readers’ access to its online edition unless they’re already subscribers to the paper version (huh?) or are willing to pony up some cash for the privilege of cruising the web version. So…it’s either keep the paper subscription, continuing to abet the destruction of forests, the contamination of the environment in the production of ink, and the transport of wads paper smeared with ink that go directly into the recycling bin, or (since on principle I do not pay for Web content) forgo reading the Times altogether.
It sets up quite the internal conflict. I’d like to support journalism. It’s one of the pillars of democracy. Without good reporting—real reporting, not Play-Nooz—citizens cannot know what their elected leaders are doing (or not doing) and can’t know when it’s time to throw the rascals out. The long, slow demise of journalism has traced the long, slow demise of education in this country, and in fact when solid journalism no longer exists, the American republic will soon cease to exist.
But still… Sometimes I feel like a fool, continuing to pay for something that’s fading away like the Cheshire cat.
Image: John Tenniel, The Cheshire Cat. Illustration for Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll. Public Domain
Whenever the surface temperatures in the Pacific Ocean shift in just the right way, we get an El Niño event, a periodic rainy season that goes on and on and on. All winter long, we’ve had rain at least once a week.
Blue Dick
It’s raining again this morning. Poured half the night. The desert is greening up, and soon the hills and valleys will be awash in wildflowers. And, consequently, our noses awash in pollen. Arizona is the place to come when you want to find out what you’re allergic to!
Our xeric landscaping also bursts out in wildflowers, more familiarly known as weeds. Right now my front yard is filling up with milkweed and ragweed, filaree and dandelions, many of them noxious imports from other parts of the country and the world.
Arizona lupine
Some are very pretty. A variety of lupine, for example, will sprout in the alleys and occasionally in the lawn. By and large the ones that grow in the city, though, are plug-ugly, invasive, and turn your yard into a jungle of fanny-high brush that, as soon as the heat comes up, dries out and turns to tinder.
Most of the really pretty plants won’t grow in the city, though. You have to get out on the desert and climb a slope to see the carpets of Arizona poppies during the brief few days they bloom. I’ve rarely seen one volunteer in my yard—maybe once or twice, but they’re not happy and they don’t last long.
Arizona poppy
What with all this water falling out of the sky, the yard crop is fierce, noxious, thick, and so robust that it regards Round-up as a minor nuisance. I’ve dribbled the stuff on the front yard weeds twice, to exactly zero effect. And yes, I know… but let qui mal y pense come over here and spend a few days on hands and knees digging thorny plants that exude rash-inducing sap out of a quarter-acre of gravel.
London rocket
The house plants are happy, though. There’s no question that plants can tell the difference between rain and tap water. As the roses are vibrating with joy, so the indoor plants radiate vegetable contentment when they’re allowed to sit below the eaves and bathe in falling rain.
Plants singin' in the rain
Problem is, of course, you have to yank them indoors at the first sign of hail, of which we have a-plenty. That Christmas cactus out there ran amok the first time it was put out in the rain this winter:
Christmas Cactus
Cassie the Corgi, not being a plant, hates loathes and despises water when it’s not in a dish. Water falling out of the sky is particularly abhorrent. This morning she ran out into the wet dark, pivoted on a dime, streaked back into the house, and deposited a lovely steaming pile in the family room for me to clean up. {sigh}
Well, whenever I get back from ululating down at the cult headquarters, I guess I’ll have to set another fire in the fireplace, the better to keep the Cassowary warm and dry, and spend the afternoon in front of it grading student papers.
