Jewelry

Our 8th anniversary is approaching, and my husband has suggested that he buy me a piece of jewelry that I pick out. My first thought: "I'd rather get a new iPod." I'm not sure what this says about me, if anything.

I have never been a big jewelry person. I like costume jewelry, you know - the kind that isn't locked up behind glass in department stores. But even the most expensive item in my jewelry box, the wedding ring I have literally outgrown, is only worth a couple hundred dollars.

Right before Rosalind was born, I read King Leopold's Ghost, a book about the Dutch colonization of what we now call Congo. Cutting off a hand was often punishment in the diamond mines. The picture of a Congolese man and his son both missing a hand still haunts me today. It wasn't just their missing hands that bothered me, but also the thought of what the father went through when his son's hand was cut off that disturbed me. Since then, diamonds have not only not appealed to me, but they have also come to represent something sinister to me. Unlike Kanye West who sings in "Diamonds from Sierre Leone" about his attempt to reconcile his desire for "bling" with his desire to do no harm to his African brethren, I don't desire diamonds at all.

This isn't to say that I'm not greedy and that I don't want things. That would be wholly dishonest. I want electronic gadgets, books, crafting supplies, a new bike, clothes, a kid-free vacation, and some salad plates. And a hybrid car, but that will have to wait a couple years.

The question I often consider is whether those kinds of images - of people with missing hands, of dead animals, of destroyed or polluted environments - exist behind the objects I so happily purchase: patterned paper, flip flops, Revlon lip gloss, printer cartridges. If I knew that was the case, would I stop buying these items? Could I know it? Would I choose to know it?

Meanwhile, I have to decide whether to or not I should take my husband up on his offer and avoid the diamond aisle altogether or to suggest a different route, like maybe a love letter. Or a bike. Or a new iPod.

The Laugh's On Me

So much for my plan of avoiding any kind of consumption. Today I realized Sawyer only has three pair of shorts, and one pair is at my mom's. So I broke my own rule, but not completely: I went shopping at the OARC thrift store. (Note to self: Always hit OARC first .They're prices are amazing. I bought a pair of shorts for Sawyer and a coloring book for a total of 35 cents. Huzzah! Similar shorts were 3.50 at Goodwill.)

Later the entire family and I went to Goodwill for some more shopping. I found a pair of shorts for Sawyer, which was the whole point. But I have trouble resisting deals and definitely experienced that clinging feeling. I wanted the salad plates, the tote bag, and the movie (in a medium we don't even own anymore). Even a thrift store brings out my desire to acquire. However, that feeling I get from acquiring only lasts for a short while, promptly leading to more acquiring. It's like an addiction and one that is encouraged every time I turn on the TV, walk into a store, drive past a billboard or listen to the radio.

My one success: I REALLY wanted a latte and not a home-brewed latte. I even got into my car to drive to Starbucks . . . and then got out of the car and walked hangdoggedly back into the house and brewed a mediocre iced latte.

Total non sequitur: I started getting chest pains on the way to Goodwill. I am pretty sure it's heartburn because what I read says that if when you lay down it gets worse, it's probably GI related. It was pretty painful and scary, and no, I did not go to the hospital like I know I should have. But I'm sitting here now and not feeling any pain, so all is well.

Low Impact, Round IV

I'm doing another low-impact consumption month. I am going about it a little differently this time. Instead of just making it about environmental issues, I am trying to incorporate awareness of clinging and finances. In the past, I didn't buy anything (or avoided buying anything) that meant more trash in our landfills. This meant I could buy electronic items, such as songs on iTunes and digital scrapbooking items from Two Peas.

My goal this time is to let go of the rush, no matter how small, that comes with acquiring something. If I'm buying an Adobe action or fonts for a digi page, I'm still getting the same rush I get when I buy brads and stickers from Michael's.

I also need to pay more attention to my spending. I'm not someone who goes out an buys a nice, new car or a new couch. I whittle money away. I buy three yards of fabric here and scrapbooking paper there and pants for my son here and a hat for my daughter there. It adds up.

What I want is to be more careful about differentiating between "need" and "want." At least being aware of the two differences may be helpful.

Here's the other issue that has recently come to my attention: I have A LOT of crafting items - paper, ribbon, fabric, patterns, etc. I just emptied my craft area of six bags of stuff to give away and two trash bags of garbage. Although things are cleaner and more organized, there is still way too much stuff. Since Sawyer was born, I have sewn very little - an outfit for my daughter and a few small items, like napkins. This hasn't stopped my purchasing of fabric and patterns, however. So I'm sure you can imagine how things start to pile up.

One possible glitch is that my sister-in-law is coming out here for a week with her three kids. We haven't seen them in five years; in fact, I've never met the two youngest. It may very well mean some fast food jaunts and what-not, but I'm willing to postpone the project if necessary. She's definitely worth it.