Saving for the American Dream

I am on a mission: To save money to buy a little piece of Americana of my own. I'm not gunning for the whole yard and white picket fence thing, I'm not even aiming for a place that includes my own stairs, just some urban square footage that can, at least, no longer be deemed industrial. Oh, and a window, definitely need a window.

Since I live in our lovely nation's capital this means that I will be paying a premium for a minimum. I understand. I also understand that in order to be more financially viable and sound I need to cough up 20% of a number that makes my stomach lurch.

Ideally I would spend between 200-250K on a studio.......typing that gave me one of those retinal flashes people describe having before strokes. (Note: if the remainder of this entry is an incoherent string of letters, I've probably got severe cranial bleeding. Call 911, oh and thanks for reading.) Making my 20% down payment 40-50K. Nausea setting in.

Here is where i would love some help/thoughts/assistance;full disclosure:

I come from zero family money, I have over $35,000 in student debt from college to which i pay nearly $500 monthly to reduce, my rent is less than $1000, and I have a stable income of $45,000 annually with an additional unstable (on again-off again part time job) income of about 5-10K per year. I have $4,000 on a credit card, but i have hidden that credit card in a box of matzo and am working on tossing my extra cash at it as often as possible to chip away at it. I contribute to my Roth IRA (Automatic $50 payments to T.Rowe Price) and savings (high yield via ING Direct), but neither are anywhere near the amount i need to scrounge up. After taxes, a few trips to the grocery store and bills, I'm left with a little fun money and not much else.

I recently started using Buddi personal finance software. This is shareware which makes it easy for the personal finance beginner to set a budget and track expenses; hopefully it will show me where my leaks are and help (read: guilt) me into behaving better and saving money for my own little spread.

I read a lot about personal finance everyday and know all the "secrets" and "tips" to budgeting, and i know there are no real "get rich quick" options, but I need a way of reporting and rewarding myself for good savings behavior, hence this blog.

I promise, I will report on my saving progess, and report on the pitfalls and perhaps and potential ways to avoid them; if you, dear reader (please be out there) promise to leave any ideas, thoughts, and suggestions in my comments section.

Today is November 29, 2007- Total Savings For Down Payment $1000

Let's Do This!

I must preface this latest tale with a small not of caution to the viewer: too much information ahead.

My mother is one of those quirky delightful moms who began to buy things for her daughter once I left for college. This is sweet, and would be absolutely charming and June Cleaver-esque if not for the fact that the items are not nicely woven sweaters, or jewelery or fun mother-daughter romping through the mall type items. Rather, my mother sees, and purchases drugstore hygiene products for me: dental floss, razors and shave gel.

Normal people would question how they are perceived upon receipt of such gifts, do i smell? Do i not maintain a normal standard of personal hygiene? But no, my mother is who she is and instead of questioning myself, i have taken to simply being thankful that my mother has saved me from spending another $20 at CVS for normal upkeep. It was this past holiday season that i received my latest gift: two boxes (sale) of thong panty liners. I now have a hearty supply which i can build a handy, absorbent, and mildly scented raft to make my transcontinental journey, should i need one.

Today, I had a lovely visit with my OB/GYN, a nice middle aged man with a good sense of humor; it is my general policy that any man in who can be in such a personal situation with me be lighthearted and amusing, or in the very least think I am. I was recently informed that my previously pristine pap smear came back abnormal. Most women have an instance of "inconclusive" where their doctor tells them that they'll check on it next year. Mine was abnormal, something wasn't maybe wrong, it is wrong...how wrong is the question. A colpascopy is similar to a pap smear, but they magnify the view, it takes longer, and they swap around the look for the culprit.
Before getting probed I was introduced to Larry, a medical student. I told Larry of my previous run ins with medical students who didn't think i was funny, he assured me he did. Larry was cool and we chatted. Upon asking if i had any final questions I told Larry yes, would there be complimentary beverages on this flight? Larry got extra points because he responded by bringing me water.

My doctor came in and placed the gynecological equivalent of the Hubble telescope up to my cervix and checked out my interior decorating. As the doctor, Larry the Med student, and the nurse who found it amusing I talked the scale down a few pounds pondered what microscopic nemesis my reproductive track was battling, I was busy reading Naked by David Sedaris. If you have not read this off-beat gem, it is hysterical. While I read, there was discussion, lots of hmmms, and ohhhs, so much so that I called out "aww, now i wanna see". As they biopsied what may or may not be a prelude to cancer I pondered the creation of stirrup pads, GPS luggage finders, and that McDonald's McFlurry I had been denying myself.
I was told some post-procedure things like: no sex for two weeks (shouldn't be too tricky), no alcohol that night and that the silver nitrate dabbed inside would cause a dark discharge for a few days and not to worry.

I actually had to stop myself from joking that I would no longer be able to build my raft and take that much needed trip, but that I it would be okay...they were good humored, not clairvoyant.

My life, it seems, is compiled not in days and years or even in cups of coffee as one musical rendition of urban mid-twenties angst would suggest, but in a series of misadventures and bad timing; or more appropriately, tragically ill-fated good timing . I am one of those people that has all the stories a good hostess of a cocktail party needs to keep the entertainment lively, where you can haughtily laugh at the mild misfortunes of the narrator because clearly she has come out the other end of the tale unscathed since she is relating to you her tale while impeccably dressed and with nothing more than an air of bitter tinged amusement only bestowed upon those who have the good stories to tell. Here is where you can discern the real from the fake. That twinkle, the knowing not quite polished edge of her voice as she relays the story, humorous in hindsight yet tragically cracked. A glass vase reglued. The great embellishers of the world lack this grit, this singular brand the fraternity of the three fates burns into those they choose for their ironic amusement. I do suppose I should be grateful, I'd rather be a toy for fortunes whims than a monument to mediocrity.

This blog shall begin at an ending, not of a war, or a great love, no nothing predictably epic. The ending of a barely budding romance which in itself leaves not a life altering impression, but brought with it the clarity I can only hope is impervious to my sarcasm.