Popular Posts in 2019

I find each year’s popular posts list an interesting exercise. As an investor, it provides hints about what people, in particular other investors, are researching. As a writer, the list provides great feedback about what may bring people back. As yet another person on this planet, what is it people care about?

The top ten in 2019

In other words:

  • Stocks, particularly MVIS
  • My inventions
  • Another inventor’s perspective
  • Serendipity and general weirdness in the world
  • Emergency Preparedness
  • Real estate and Affordability trends on Whidbey Island

About half of the posts are from before 2019. I’m glad and curious about the continuing popularity of my invention for Dockside Tidal Power, an energy device I’d like to develop, but don’t have the resources for – yet. Of course, maybe someone else is taking it and developing it without telling me. An intriguing possibility.

The specific posts may change, but the topics tend to be the same. Stocks, inventions, wondering at weirdness, and Whidbey Island. Of course, I’ll continue to write about other aspects of personal finance. This blog is based on the personal finance book I wrote, Dream. Invest. Live; and is becoming the sketch ground for the sequel.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

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Semi Annual Exercise EOY 2019

Sigh. The too common refrain. Companies making progress in a rising market, but their stocks languish from too little good news, delays, or damaging tweets outside their control. 

Dream Invest Live coverThis is my regular exercise to understand what I own, why I own it, and whether I should buy or sell. My strategy is described in better detail in Dream. Invest. Live., my book written prior to but published during the beginnings of the Great Recession, or as I call it, the Second Great Depression. A perfect storm of bad luck (someone else’s assessment) I call My Triple Whammy imploded my diversified portfolio. This exercise was easy and encouraging prior to that. Since then, I continue the exercise because the exercise remains valuable. Rather than being deterred by the downfall, I’ve decided to continue. Life and investments can exhibit cycles. Down then up then down then up – maybe in 2020? Tracking my portfolio through the ups and downs is more valuable than only looking at the ups. The downs hold the more valuable lessons.

Personal finance has changed within the last twenty years. 

Discount brokerages are the norm. Look at the New York Stock Exchange floor to see that computers have more control than humans. Advantages of nano-seconds enter the competition between computers, leaving humans with our tenth of seconds reaction times lagging. Within the last few years, tweets swing markets and economies. Corporations have lower tax rates and are hiding more in tax havens while incomes stall. Traders, people who hold stock for seconds or at most days, may be impacted the most.

Investors, those who analyze a company’s financials, estimate value and potential, and buy or sell accordingly are potentially less affected. They work with trends that last months, quarters, and maybe years. Nano-second response times don’t change the timing of quarterly reports. The initial trades are affected as computers feed fresh data through ultra-fast computers, but the overall effects have time to accumulate.

Aside from traders and investors are speculators, individuals who work in uncertainties. Computers work in data. Speculators are more comfortable with what-if, could-be, assumptions layered on assumptions. If MicroVision captures 1% of the global display market, what is that worth? Speculators keep themselves busy with such considerations. Computers can conduct massive Monte-Carlo simulations, but judgment is required to produce a result. Humans still have a niche.

I prefer to be an investor, but my remaining stocks have fallen into speculative territory. High upsides, high risk, and little institutional interest because the computers can’t properly analyze unknowns – or are better used analyzing more concrete companies. I am human. I should work from my strengths, especially where the competition is weak. I feel weak currently, but I also remember feeling strong, strong when stocks with low prices and far-off potential finally succeeded. That’s when dismissive advice becomes congratulations on foresight. I don’t know if it will happen, but it can’t happen if I quit. Hence, the exercise continues.

Here are the links to the discussion boards I use. Those discussions are less philosophical and hopefully more practical. Feel free to comment here or there, and to pass along links to others. The bigger the discussion, the better the chance of valuable insights (as long as the trolls and flamers are moderated appropriately.)

Investor Village

AMSC

LCTX

GERN

MVIS

NPTN

The Motley Fool

AMSC

GERN

MVIS

NPTN

Silicon Investor

AMSC

GERN

MVIS

Reddit

MVIS

 

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Writing Prompts

Ring! It was 7:08AM. “Hello. Can I talk to Thomas Trimbath?” It didn’t sound good. Early morning phone calls using Thomas instead of Tom could be some official relaying bad news. I answered yes. “I’d like to talk to you about publishing your book.” Oh, it was one of those phone calls. I asked her what time she thought it was. Ah, an East Coast call assuming everyone lived in their world, or at least their time zone. I politely pointed out that I lived somewhere else on the planet. She was surprised I was so pleasant about it. Writers know everything is a story, and an opportunity for insights. So, I thanked her and she didn’t know why.

Before I hung up, I also took the opportunity to practice my reverse cold calling. I don’t cold call. I don’t call strangers to try and sell them – anything. Maybe that explains why my marketing isn’t as aggressive as others, but there’s enough aggression in the world. There’s no need to make more. I do, however turn the conversation around on those who cold call me. Want me to buy something you’re selling? Well, first you get to hear what I have to sell. Evidently, she wasn’t in the market for real estate on Whidbey Island. (I’m a broker with Coldwell Banker Koetje, in case you’re curious; and a disclosure the state requires me to make.) The irony is that Whidbey Island’s writing community is enormous, disorganized, but enormous. Maybe she should move her business here. Some of the most expensive houses are owned by authors. Oh well, her missed opportunity.

Dream Invest Live coverAfter I hung up, showered, had breakfast, and was heading into work I replayed my memory of the call. She wants to publish “my book”. Which one? Amazon shows six. Blurb shows six. I’m working on a sequel to Dream. Invest. Live., the basis of this blog. A sci-fi novel is over 25,000 words into the first draft. A book based on tea is at least sketched out. That’s three more for the Amazon list. The photos for the next photo book on Blurb are already done; Twelve Months at Possession Beach, book seven in a five part series of Whidbey Island photo essays. (Side note: Fans of Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy can appreciate the math.) “My book”? She missed a multiple of opportunities, not just one. (My apologies to the librarians I announced my plans to in early 2019. Instead of two publications and two in draft, I have one photo book in publication, and only one partial draft. Hey, real estate keeps me busy. You know?) DSC_9020_clean_bright - Joe Edits 030719 - FRONT COVER

I doubt that I’d use her services, regardless. My frugality appreciates the world of self-publishing where the costs are minimal, the upside is as good as a Lotto jackpot, and the control is mine. Mine. Mine! You hear that? Seriously, I’m not that serious about it. Despite that, or maybe because of it, I now get calls for what one writer called, their “Author Hero.” Gosh. If you’re serious about such things, check out the video produced by Don Scoby (Whidbey Island’s bagpipe playing biscotti baker and cookbook author) and me.

Her early morning phone call also made me think of other members of the unofficial writing community. As of 2019, Don and I have been producing a blog and podcast called WritingOnWhidbeyIsland.com (also known as WOWI, an acronym many writers dislike, which may be why we keep using it.) Self-publishing was dismissed when I published Just Keep Pedaling in 2002.51fqu8xbkxl.sr160240_bg243243243 Now, almost every author we’ve interviewed has either used or considered modern self-publishing. First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win – evidently.

Almost every author also shares at least some aspect of frugality. One interpretation of frugality is the respect for resources and what is in the world around us. Authors are frugal with their words. Few are extravagant spenders, unless it is to attend conferences or travel for new experiences. (Though there are some very nice writer’s studios on the island. But I digress and pull myself back from conducting a market analysis of the value of a studio.) There may be 100,000 words in a book, but that probably means another 100,000 were in then out of the manuscript.

Her call was a reminder of how easy it is to disrespect others, to treat people impersonally, as if we are members of a market, not individuals. To assume that everyone lives in a world like ours. To assume that everyone has the same motivations and incentives. She even had a programmed response in mind, expecting me to be rude when I found out who was calling and why.

Her call has been valuable to me. From a conversation that lasted less than three minutes, I’ve been reminded of how easy it is to sit in a box and treat people as if they were packages.

She also reminded me of the work I get to do, of my opportunities to treat people as people, and of a world I left behind.

Now, back to the reality of unwinding from a stressful transaction, diving into a long list of end-of-year tasks (including my semi-annual stock portfolio analyses), and maybe upgrading my writing “studio”. Laptops are on sale, and I already have a comfy chair and a wide selection of teas.

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Apologies And Choices

My apologies to family, friends, community – and to my self. Somehow next week is Christmas. Life in this new world has meant making apologies to old customs, habits, traditions, and expectations. That means an impressive workload means less time for cards, gifts, decorations, and those mythical celebrations that are supposedly part of the season. Ironically, the extra work means extra hope which is one gift I’ve chosen to concentrate on.

Conventional wisdom is that, except for retail, business slows down at the end of the year. People are supposedly distracted by shopping and cooking and arranging the trappings of the season. My life took an unexpectedly positive turn around Thanksgiving, a well-named time. From wondering how I was going to financially survive until the new year, within a week I found myself helping someone buy land, someone else list their house, and someone else buy a condo so they could relax after decades of tending acreage. Life as a real estate broker with Coldwell Banker on Whidbey Island, eh?

I’m a romantic. Being raised just outside of Pittsburgh during the end of the Baby Boom meant growing up with a good chance of white Christmases, carols in church, and having lots of kids to play with during school breaks or snow days. Mom put white twinkle lights where ever she could. Dad defending his array of big colored lights that were enough to warm the room. Everyone got and gave several presents. The term ‘feast’ was an understatement. My naturopath probably doesn’t want to hear about my binge-ing on sugar covered nut roll cookies consumed with glasses of full fat milk while playing Battleship, or whatever that year’s game was. Cards were strung into garland effectively delivered by mail. Of course Santa existed, and of course the doubter in me kept quiet rather than reveal the fact that I didn’t think he could make it all the way around the world or get down our chimney. Thanks for the presents, packages, and bows – and the To/From cards that I lost track of.

Now, I work in that overlap between what was the traditional model of real estate broker, the new model of independent contractor, and whatever it is I am in the Gig Economy. When I was in the salary world it was a push, but it was possible to at least touch on all of the old traditions. Now, work when work is available, and be thankful for it regardless of schedule. Besides, it is good to help people who want to be helped.

So, here I sit, waiting for emails about contracts and house inspections, phone calls from clients, and checking social media because calls and letters are no longer the only way to contact someone.

So, here I sit, realizing a week from today will be Christmas. Presents and cards are arriving at home, some opened and unwrapped (particularly the ones shipped with dry ice); but no tree, no cards, no gifts made or bought and ready to give, and little thought about what I’ll make for Christmas dinner.

Choices.

The beginning of the island’s pre-Christmas storm is about to be delivered in a few hours, and the main package of the Pineapple Express (an atmospheric river event) is due in a day or two. The email Inbox is empty of unread messages. The phone isn’t ringing or dinging or whatever they do now. If I decide to work from home and leave now maybe, maybe, I’ll be able to harvest enough rosemary to make a wreath or two, write a few cards, order at least a few gifts that will be just a bit late for Christmas (unless Amazon plays Santa), and rummage through the boxes of decorations for some heirloom pieces to remind me of life decades ago.

Within the next few days I plan to buy a live pine seedling, bring it inside, decorate it, and then plant it with hope it will adjust and survive – a model for our new world, upon reflection.

So, excuse me as I write something more concise than usual, but life is about choices. I’ll apologize what won’t get done by choice or necessity, as I also choose to blend a bit of the new and the old, at least for a little while.

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Yet Another Mortgage Story

I think this makes seven or eight, but without driving home and diving into decades-old statements I can only estimate that my little house, my home, has had over a half-dozen mortgage companies/servicers in just under thirteen years. About every other year, they change. The more tortuous period was when I was unable to pay my bills. Ironically, about half of those transfers were bankruptcies. Thanks, but I can’t take the credit for dismantling billion-dollar corporations. Considering what I’ve witnessed, I’m sure their efforts are a larger cause than mine.

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Today I tried paying my bill. The middle of the month is coming up and I was anxious to pay before late fees and credit dings hit. Yesterday I tried paying my bill. But this most recent company didn’t brand itself as a mortgage servicer but as a debt collector. They’d only let me pay my bill if I gave them access to my bank account. Considering that the day before I’d received the second notice that my attempts to pay had failed, I was reluctant to give them that level of access. I’ll give them money, but not access to my entire account. I’d only do that with someone I trust, and the way they were conducting their business generated distrust, instead. Not the way to run a business, particularly a financial business that is tied to housing, particularly one that has installed so many barriers to getting paid.

The bill pay service with my bank has worked for all of the other mortgagers. This time, the transfers bounced, but only after several days, delaying my eventual payment. Evidently, it was time to start that process anew. But first, I wanted to pay by phone, authorize a one-time payment, and get it done. I could set up bill pay when I had more time. (Life in real estate on Whidbey Island is rather busy – understatement – currently.) Easy enough, call them up. Except that the phone number on their web site doesn’t work. The phone number they gave to the previous mortgage servicer didn’t work, either. I finally found a phone number on one of those boiler-plate sheets that are easy to ignore. OK. Let’s do this.

Call. Outside working hours, please call back. Call back. Put on hold. Two minutes later, enter phone number, address, account number, date of birth, social security number and account routing number and account number and whoa! Most companies will ask for some of that, then accept a debit card. Getting paid is what business is about. Get transferred out of voicemail by hitting random keys. Two minutes on hold, talk to one person who asks for the same info, express my strong reluctance, get passed to another employee. Get asked the same questions, have the same conversation, get transferred again. Each transfer was supposed to be to someone who could accept a debit card payment. “All agents are currently busy.” My apologies. Did I do that?

Six minutes later, finally a human who acts more human. Have the same questions, discussion, and I finally interrupt the cycle by asking for a mailing address where I can overnight the check. I read off the three addresses they provided on the paperwork. None of them are valid. The phone numbers weren’t right. The addresses weren’t right. The employee, I congratulate on patience, points out that there are another three addresses, one that I’ve forgotten, one for the headquarters, and one for accepting overnight mail. Each of the three are in different states with different corporate names in the address. This is efficient?

If you’ve actually read this tedious chronology, congratulate yourself. Now, imagine how often this is happening. Multiply the experience by potentially millions of homeowners. My call involved four employees. I’m glad they have a job, but how much time and money was wasted shuffling me from one to the other. This one episode cost them a half-hour of pay, directly; and as business owners know, the burden rate from the indirect costs amplify that cost. The employees must be tracked and managed. The episode must be recorded, archived, entered into the database, and maybe analyzed. I doubt there will be a response, but if there is, that will cost them, too.

Mortgage defaults are blamed for many things, but I suspect they aren’t the only cause. Review what happened in my Mesmerizing Mortgage Mediation Meeting. Browse a bit of the circus that is in My Mortgage Modification Chronology. Financial institutions were known for conservative, prudent, and efficient operations. Today’s episodes cemented my doubts about the modern version of such operations.

A few years ago, Last Week Tonight with John Oliver produced a show called Debt Buyers. John Oliver is a comedian, so there was certainly a fun tone to the piece; but it pointed out that every time debt is sold, it is sold at a discount. My original mortgage was with Whidbey Island Bank. They sold that mortgage (debt) to one of those now-defunct C mortgagers like Countrywide or Crossland. I doubt Whidbey Island Bank did that to lose money, so they sold off risk and made some money. I think there was another transfer. Eventually it went through Bank of America. Maybe the next leap was to Greentree (but I think there were two Greentrees involved.) From there, DiTech, which just went bankrupt, and now to Shellpoint. If at each step the debt was sold for even a slight discount, they bought over $200K of debt in my mortgage for thousands less. I wonder how much I’d have to offer to clear it. I doubt they work that way. There’s too much profit in the monthly payments and possible sale of an appreciating property. That income stream can fund a lot of inefficiency.

Part of this post is a vent. Part is another entry in the (hopefully) inevitable sequel to my book on Dream Invest Live coverDream. Invest. Live. Part of this is a light on the reality of the stereotype of conventional financial institutions. No one is perfect, but sadly, a corporation’s inefficiencies can cause a person’s late fees, wasted time, increased stress – all at a profit to the corporation.

Two years ago I was interviewed about My Forty Year Mortgage. The interviewer wondered why someone who understands personal finance well enough to write about it would knowingly agree to making interest payments for forty years. 1) It was the only mortgage modification option provided to me, and I was glad to take it and keep my home. 2) Inflation can significantly decrease the impact of the future interest payments. 3) The rate is capped at about 4%, historically low (with a hope that we don’t experience deflation). And 4) from what I’ve seen of the industry, I suspect it will be forced to radically change within that time because, as someone who has analyzed businesses and systems, their processes are not sustainable – and haven’t been for the over half dozen corporations I’ve been involved with.

Ironically, today’s episode may inspire me to go back to the beginning. As my income improves, and hopefully my credit rating returns, I wonder what sort of mortgage I can find, what sort of credible mortgage company I can find, and whether that would make my life a little bit safer and saner.

By the end of the day I decided to trust at least one person, the last one I talked to at Shellpoint. Instead of shuttling me along, she talked and listened for over a quarter of an hour. According to her, one of the terms of this transfer is a forgiveness of late fees for the first sixty days. I said my goodbyes, opened the bill pay menu, added yet another mortgagor to the list, and paid via an electronic service that will maybe could be possibly get there at or on the due date. Let’s hope there’s no reason to refresh this story. There are better things in life for me to write and think about.

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Paying For Bad Packaging

Don’t judge a book by its cover. Don’t judge a letter by its envelope. Don’t judge what’s in the box by looking at the box. Skip the judgments and maybe even make some money. Weirder things happen.

Two envelopes showed up in the mail. There were more, but those two dropped my mood two notches. It’s possible to earn a living income (or more) as a real estate broker.  (Hi, Washington State asks me to disclose that I am – “a licensed real estate broker with Coldwell Banker Koetje on Whidbey Island.” Hey, I didn’t want to make it part of the story, but I’m being careful with their regulations.) Anyway. Real estate can pay well, but it doesn’t pay every two weeks or on any regular schedule – at least for me for now. There are income gaps that are ignored by the need to pay expenses. Seeing an envelope from my old mortgage company and my new propane supplier days after recently paying those bills made me dread contacting the companies. Did the old and new mortgage company double bill me, and do so after the due date? Did the online Bill Pay not pay the propane company? I reacted before I opened the envelopes. I also procrastinated by waiting until I was at work where the office phone was designed for calls to be left on hold while I got other work done.

Yet another advantage of not living in The Big City is having phone calls answered by humans in the first two rings. The bill was $75 over the bill I paid a few days ago at the end of the month. If that was a late fee, it was a big one. One quick call to Van der Yacht Propane pointed out the money and the bill passing each other in the mail. Yep. I’d paid my bill, but their tank rental fee ($75) was sent to me before the money cleared. Instead of being over-charged or late, all I had to do was pay a regular rental fee. Whew.

As for the mortgage, I’ve lost count of how many mortgage companies and servicers have handled my monthly payment. The Great Recession swing them through a lot of loops. I wonder if, pardon me as I estimate, at least seven companies have truly been able (oops, eight) to keep track of who owes and who owns what. After all of that confusion, a double bill wouldn’t be a surprise. Surprise! It wasn’t a bill. It was a notice that I’d be receiving a check for the escrow money they’d set aside to pay property taxes. Whew.

Coincidentally, the propane bill was almost exactly the same as the escrow check. In and out equal nearly zero.

What was I reacting to, again? (Only slightly rhetorical)

We, or at least I, react to packaging. Dispassionately waiting until the envelope is logical, but humans are emotional, too. Maybe I should find a Vulcan to handle my mail.

Packaging is so important that we pay more for fancy packaging and pay much less for poor packaging.

20191206_144022I’m frugal. I browse the discount bin at the supermarket. Dings, dents, and damaged goods cost much less even if the contents are fine. Anyone who follows my Facebook or Twitter (#TomTea) feeds knows I drink tea. I’m not a tea snob. It’s just something I post about as an aside to the day. I can measure my progress through the day by how and what I drink. (If I’m drinking Tetley after 4PM you know it is going to be a long day and a sleepless night.) There it was, a box of Taylor’s Lemon & Ginger, crushed and crumpled. The box was crushed and crumpled, not the tea. Tea doesn’t do that, unless on purpose. Twenty tea bags that would cost several dollars was marked down to 99 cents. It’s fine. (As I sip.) The value and quality of the tea didn’t change. The impact of the packaging did.

20191206_144143A gracious and generous gesture by Victorinox happened about the same time and showed me another side of the packaging issue. I found one of my old Swiss army knives in a tool box. As if the normal set of tools wasn’t enough, this one included an altimeter. The altimeter that fit in the knife works because of a battery, a tiny battery, a battery thin enough to fit in whatever is left of the volume that isn’t already filled with knives, screwdrivers, scissors, files, and of course, a corkscrew and toothpick. So civilized, the Swiss. Hence, the graciousness of them when I contacted them about finding a replacement battery; and their generosity when they mailed me one for free. A battery skinnier than my pinkynail. A battery that is smaller than a stamp, but that required an envelope measuring 9 inches by 6 inches. The cost of the person’s paycheck for answering the call, the cost of the battery, the cost of shipping, and the cost of the envelope are costs associated with packaging their response, not just the battery. Impressive. Sadly, the battery couldn’t fix the fact that years in backpacks and toolboxes probably ruined the electronics in the altimeter. I’m not asking them to fix that, too. They’ve done more than enough, already. I’ve cost them too much, already.

And the coincidences accumulate.

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Nine by six is the size of my most of my books. According to some readers, one in particular is my best writing and possibly worth submitting for awards. I probably won’t because we do judge books by their covers. The writing inside may be worth mentioning, but the title and the cover do too little to connect with the content. Twelve Months at Merritt Lake. No verbs. No action. No emotion. The cover is a photograph, but only one that makes sense after the book’s been read. A clear day punctuated by a sweet wilderness camp, rifle shots, and helicopters attacking a nearby forest fire. I use my book as an example, but think about how some shop on Amazon. It was sad enough that judging a book by its contents was tough in bookstores. It takes too long. So, readers judge books by their covers. Now, covers are reduced to Amazon images a few pixels wide and tall. The cost to the author for poor packaging is in poor sales.

Humans are quick to judge. Maybe that was less likely when life moved slowly. Now, we judge people and events on a few words or even a few letters. See an (R) or (D) or (G) or (I) beside a politician’s name and the judgment is made. Some do the same thing with skin color, or gender, or accent, or whatever discriminator is being used to discriminate between this person and that person. Even in the world of personal finance, a car that safely drive at the speed limit holds a basic value, but tens of thousands of dollars are layered around that with brands, luxuries, and paint jobs. A house that is safe, secure, and structurally sound meets necessities, but style and whether the walls are painted or the windows washed can change opinions and purchases.

Maybe we shouldn’t be affected by such things, but we are. The pragmatist in me struggles with this notion. The frugal person in me appreciates the opportunities. The reflective part of me knows I am susceptible to the my own mix of feelings and consequences. I guess that proves that I am human. Time to sit back, sip some tea, make this post a bit prettier – all as we approach the holidays with wrapping paper and bows and silly sweaters.

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Thankful For Serendipity

Intuition, a hunch, listening to a hint I bought a new pair of jeans – just in time. The coolness wafting into my pants told me so.

Buy local! I do, or at least I try. South Whidbey has a (1) (one) place that calls itself a department store: Webbs. Clothing, bedding (which is just clothing for beds), shoes, socks, hats, etc. I tend to drop by as a treat every time I help someone buy or sell their house. Sometimes necessity urges action.

For the last two years I’ve worn one pair of jeans to the office. In some places, real estate brokers wear semi-formal wear and drive tastefully subdued luxury sedans. This is the south part of Whidbey Island. Sure, there are luxury properties, but I’m also likely to be stepping into the Before version of a fixer-upper, or strolling across fields or through forests. Jeans don’t get chewed up as much fine fabrics. Wingtips aren’t as practical as sandals that can be easily slipped on and off, or boots that can bash through brush.

Two years of my version of desk work, field work, and house work meant a hole grew in the knee. Not a very draft place. I’ll be getting there.

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Recently I attended a county housing presentation, in the audience, this time. A young, stylish woman walked in wearing distressed jeans. The tastefully arranged holes and wear spots covered, or uncovered, about a third of where fabric should be. I pointed her out to an experienced fellow broker who understands women’s fashion because she is one. She pointed out to me that the young, stylish woman probably paid a lot more for her jeans than I did for mine, and achieved a completely different effect. Yep. Though, I may have paid for the hole in my jeans with lots of time, if not lots of money.

OK. After the last washing, the hole went from cute and easy to overlook to that’s not quite right. Break a habit and buy some pants for the first time in over two years. At least they’re mens jeans, not something that has to be sized, fitted, tailored, and pampered. As I paid for them the clerk asked whether I wanted a bag. Let’s see. They’re jeans. They better not bruise, tear, or break if I drop them. No bag necessary. Throw them across my shoulder, toss them in the truck, make fun of buying them as I walk into the office.

Before getting back to work, though, it made sense to visit the rest room. No need for details – but. As I walked back to my desk afterwards, I wondered if I’d sat in something. My butt felt far too cool. Discreetly put my hand on my butt hoping not to find a wet spot. None. Instead I felt my skin. Uh oh.

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I wasn’t sure which would be worse, a wet spot or a hole. A wet spot could be temporary. A hole in the seat, however, could’ve been there for as long as the hole in the knee. Who knew? Literally. Who knew? Who knew but hadn’t told me? Someone in the office? Folks on the street? Clients? No one. No one noticed. Whew.

The washing that expanded the knee’s wear spot weakened the backside, but didn’t expose it – at least not in a way that anyone noticed. I may have just noticed it as it happened.

It is easy to forget about such events, but it made me think. Why did I have the sudden intuition or hunch to Go Buy Pants Now? What hints did my subconscious notice that I missed? I don’t know. I respect my subconscious but we rarely converse, and if dreams are our conversations then we have a lot of learning to do about communicating.

I believe in intuition and inspiration. … At times I feel certain I am right while not knowing the reason.” – Albert Einstein

About the time I became a real estate broker I was also pursuing other possibilities. Each had costs and benefits. My intuition suggested I become a broker. (Getting turned down for some of the other offers limited the field, too.) Since then, three of those jobs have vanished. Each was a steadier income. Some even had benefits like healthcare. All were more temporary than my conscious mind expected.

Getting older means unavoidably accumulating experiences. My intuition at twenty had less to work with than my intuition at sixty. As I look back, I find that following my intuition would not have been a panacea; but my biggest mistakes were when I didn’t follow my intuition. I did what I ‘should’, what I was supposed to do. An exercise I’ve worked from both ends is; “What advice would you give your younger self?” and the flip was to find someone older and ask them for the advice they wished they received at my age. (See Thirty Year Wisdom for that result.) My advice to me has been to trust myself more.

The only person that lives every moment of your life is you. Anyone trying to give you advice can only become aware of a small slice of your experiences. Many are very good at doing so, usually by narrowing the topic to something they have studied. None of us can be consciously aware of everything, which is why it is good to keep a council of advisors handy.

Advisors aren’t the people who will live my life. I live my life. The future is unknowable. Decisions made today will have a shifting set of unpredictable consequences. I know I won’t always pick right. I have enough examples of that, already. But I’ve found there’s one advisor who at least knows me the best, and is intimately tied to how my life is lived. My intuition may not speak the same language, but I’m becoming more confident in listening to its hints. In at least one instance, it’s saved me from mooning the people around me. Now, that’s valuable. Thank you, me.

PS My frugal friends quickly pointed out that a rip right below the pocket is the worst because it is difficult to turn them into cutoffs or garden pants. My ultra-frugal friends quickly concocted ways to patch it from the inside. Quick advice, and fun to watch them deliver it because they’d experienced it, too.

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Trying Amazon Prime

Last year I said; “Goodbye Netflix”. 

mv5bmtc3mjewmtc5n15bml5banbnxkftztcwnzq2njq4na4040._v1_ux182_cr00182268_al_“At least for movies, I’m on a hunt. I’m trying Hulu, but only because they have Stargate SG-1 and Firefly. Their movie list looks slightly better, but not so appealing that I’m sucked in. The mute button is necessary for the anxiety-driven medical ads, and the fact that there are ads even though I’m paying for the service.”

It’s time to say Goodbye Hulu, at least for now. One streaming service at a time. It’s a frugal thing. Next up, Amazon Prime. Here’s why I’m saying goodbye to one mega-corp and hello to a much larger mega-corp. 

Go back nine years and recall why I left Directv. The cost was ridiculous. Despite spending about sixty dollars a month I still had to listen to ads – ads that amplified fears and anxieties. The worst were pharmaceutical ads that made every ache seem like a symptom of impending death. Find a fear (or make one), amplify it, and present a solution. And I was paying for that? There was lots to watch, but it took as much effort to know what to ignore. Not an efficient use of my time, and not something that helped me relax and enjoy.

Say hello to streaming Netflix over an early Roku box. Ah, the simple life. Then, Netflix decided to do more than share others’ content by emphasizing their own. Roku decided to make my old box obsolete. Get a new Roku, switch from Netflix to Hulu. At least I could binge watch a good and long sci-fi series, and a great but too short sci-fi series. But the ads, the ads. Too much fear in a world that already has an oversupply. 

You may have noticed that I give such services a year. It takes that long for binge-watching series that lasted for ten years (but at least now it is possible to watch them at ten times the broadcast speed.) You know those samples companies give away at groceries and such? They’re too small for me. If I want to try a beer, I’ll drink an entire glass. If I want to try a wine, I’ll buy a bottle, and taste it over more than an evening. Sips are too small samples for me. I’ll commit to more because first impressions are frequently wrong, even if they are what drives most human interactions.

I haven’t watched everything on Hulu. Who could? But I find myself scrolling and scrolling, hunting for something I want, rather than am simply willing, to watch. No greater analysis required. Too much fear, too little joy, time to try something different.

CBS All Access almost got me. They’re holding the new Star Trek series hostage, but I considered paying their price. After looking through the rest of their offerings though, I was underwhelmed. Committing to CBS would be like going back fifty years and breaking the TV antenna so it couldn’t get NBC, ABC, or PBS. There are hundreds more services now, but I’m keeping it simple and cheap by checking one at a time. 

Hello Amazon. AMZN is one of those stories where I bet beside the stock. I didn’t bet against it; but I hoped that its competitors would rise with it. Got that wrong. Barnes & Noble had a great opportunity – and missed it. As Amazon grew and AMZN rose, I continually thought it had gone far enough. Besides, monopolies eventually run into anti-trust regulations. Right? Got that one wrong, too. Now, certain aspects of Amazon make me cringe. Just like Google leaving behind their early motto of “Do No Evil” and abandoning their ultra-simplistic architecture, Amazon has become something dangerously large. 

I didn’t and don’t want, to feed such beastly large entities; but they now rule in a literal sense. They command more power than governments, similar to what was forecast in Powershift by Alvin Toffler. (Available on Amazon for $8.44) Maybe I should embrace the beast.

The beast has been benevolent towards me. Amazon sells and has helped me publish my books. (Check my Amazon Author Page for the long list.) Living on an island creates at least some reliance on shopping and shipping via Internet companies. Much of the rest is abstractions or at least remote: stories of what they’re doing to employees, meddling in local politics, and the bizarre circus they inspired when they teased cities with the prospect of a second headquarters. 

DSC_2441_five_books

I don’t just watch sci-fi; but that seems to be a distinguishing feature. I enjoy sci-fi because it makes me think, and if written right, makes me feel, too. I’m also writing my first sci-fi novel. Watching and reading sci-fi has helped me decide how I want to write my novel. Excellent ideas can easily be lost in bad writing. Good writing draws a crowd, but the sci-fi community is unlikely to abide bad ideas. It’s a balancing act, and one I want to better understand.

mv5bn2q3zwm0yzgtmgu0mi00owm0lwiwnzctnmq4ntuyytk0zwy2xkeyxkfqcgdeqxvymzyymzu2oa4040._v1_uy268_cr00182268_al_One of my favorite examples of excellent sci-fi is Babylon 5. Aliens were truly alien. Humans were human. Science was so well respected that the series has some of the most accurate space battles. The series was written as a five-year arc, not a one year season that was hopefully extended annually and tenuously. The network still messed that up, but the show excelled, at least for me.

Unless I want to pay a couple of bucks for each episode, or buy the complete box set, it looks like I should sign up for Amazon Prime.

I avoided Amazon Prime for years because, despite the shipping cost benefits, I am a minimalist and the last several years have been frugal by necessity. Shopping only happens when it must (mostly.) I didn’t want to sign up for Amazon Prime only for streaming. The monthly fee is high enough that it exceeds the no-ad version of Hulu. But paying that extra for, streaming, plus shipping, plus music, plus whatever else they have means getting a lot for effectively a little extra.

But why now? Well, Hulu has had its year. I’m ready for Babylon 5. And, my dance shoes are falling apart. 

Yes, I dance. It’s social dancing. If you did it wrong but you’re both smiling, you did it right. The soles have been glued back on four times. The insoles are squashed thin. The stuffing is falling out. Even the tag has been wiped clean. I can’t read the size and have to guess. (That’s another story.) Just buying the shoes can save me much of the differential between Hulu’s annual cost and Amazon’s annual cost.

Personal finance is not always about spending as little as possible. Spending the least can also mean getting the least. Sometimes that’s all someone can afford. Walmart built a big business based on that idea. As my finances improve, it becomes possible to take a step up to leverage that balancing act between cost and benefit. 

I doubt that there will be a need to update you as I step through signing up. Amazon Prime seems to be so well-used that the process should be smooth. If not, I’ll blog about that. 

In the meantime, I’ll get out the plastic to pay for online services; and the engineer in me will hang onto Hulu just a little while longer because it’s usually good to have a backup. Stay tuned.

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A Tooth And Luck And Life

Don’t doubt that little things matter. It’s a good thing this isn’t a podcast. I’d have to talk around a wad of gauze. Instead, I’ll type while pondering the new hole in my mouth. All because of one popcorn kernel in the wrong place with a bit too much pressure. Crack. Ouch. And yet, not too bad, considering.

Brushing and flossing may be necessary for dental health. (I wonder what the equivalent is for mental health.) But, brushing and flossing don’t guard against accidents. Preventative measures don’t prevent every possibility.

It’s common enough. Doing something simple can interrupt the best planned and maintained lives. A twisted knee while cleaning, a trip or a slip while walking down slick stairs, an accident while sitting still in a car but getting hit by someone not paying attention. Despite a daily deluge of do this or don’t do that, all the good advice can’t counter the fact that bad luck happens. That’s part of life. A soft, accident-free life teaches less. That doesn’t mean go chase danger for the lessons; but think of the strongest people you know. They probably have stories to tell.

Me, I’m sitting here typing to try and ignore a soggy ball of something probably fancier than cotton.

I’m actually quite fortunate, at least related to this tooth. It cracked over a decade ago. Nothing dramatic. Just enjoying popcorn and a movie at home when one bite obviously went wrong. It hurt, but there wasn’t any evidence of something to worry about. The next time I went to the dentist he finally had an excuse to use his new flexible digital microscope. There it was, a barely-noticeable hairline crack in one of my far-back molars. It was a bit sensitive, but paying a few thousand dollars for a root canal and or a crown was too expensive. I’d wait for my portfolio to recover and then get something done.

Years of visits, each time an opportunity to mention its sensitivity; but too much money for too little discomfort.

Years. Years. Years. Until last year.

Last year, there were a few days when I was incapacitated with pain. All I could do sometimes was stand in the middle of the room and not move, waiting for the next wave to recede. I scheduled an emergency appointment, but I think it was over a weekend. By the time I was in the chair, the worst was gone. But I worried. Would I have to find thousands of dollars for the repair? Evidently, no. The dentist pointed out that the tooth could be extracted for under $200. Even that wasn’t affordable; but I was glad to hear it. Why hadn’t the other dentist mentioned the possibility? Maybe he did. I decided to wait.

Last week I got paid. That’s not the first real estate transaction I’ve closed, but it finally happened soon enough after another one that I could reasonably pay that bill. Besides, since the previous year’s episode, it was a daily ache, not a pain, just an ache. OK. There was that one day when a popcorn hull wedged itself down into the gum line – and that’s probably already too much information. That hurt. Since then, the ache grew.

It’s an interesting thing, doing something innocuous but unknown. The last time I had a tooth pulled was about 1970, and those were wisdom teeth that had to be extracted in a hospital. (Upon reflection, I wonder if my mother was talked into putting me through unnecessary surgery.) What happens when a tooth is pulled? How long does it take to heal? That was a hospital stay with some very unpleasant side effects. Am I over-reacting as I worry about infections and jaw pain, or will it all subside?

Drop back into frugal considerations. The crack lived for years. I spent too much time tending it, eating around it, updating dentists on its condition, basically carrying it along for too long. I didn’t feel like I had the money to spend; but I realized how much time I was spending, instead.

The visit was less than an hour and less than $200. Fortunately, I finally had the time and the money. Let’s see how much time my tongue spends probing the new hole. The geek in me asked for the tooth because I am fascinated at how our bodies grow and heal. That came out of me? Don’t worry. I won’t include a photo. Ick.

My jaw is sore, which is probably more from me clenching my teeth for the last few weeks and also through a squirmy part of the visit. (My fault, plus the jab of a needle that was too on target. Doc, that twinge went away, just as you said it would.)

My jaw is sore because I was unconsciously guarding the tooth, sometimes clenching down to keep things in place. Add some work-related stress, and those jaw muscles got a workout. I doubt that they burned significant calories, though. I didn’t notice the clenching until I took my first four day vacation in over three years last week. Relax, relax, relax, or notice what isn’t relaxing, relaxing, relaxing. I’m looking forward to relaxing my jaw, which will probably help my smile, which might help my attitude on glum days.

Not only is it too easy to carry small pains for too long, sometimes it is necessary. I suspect everyone is carrying more than a few, whether they are medical, dental, or mental. Ideally, we can shed them and live a freer life; but not every pain can be extracted and discarded as readily as a damaged tooth. Even the pains that can be removed can leave a hole that must heal, and even after the healing we may notice the evidence of what was there before.

Brush, floss, exercise, pay bills, do laundry, do those chores we’re all supposed to do; but remember that life delivers unavoidable upsets. If we’re lucky, we can extract them at the right time with the right help.

For now, I’m looking forward to relaxing (which is difficult with a bandage in my mouth). Instead of my normal popcorn snack, though, I’m thinking yogurt tonight, oatmeal tomorrow, soup for lunch – some softer living for a while.

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Simple Ideas Are Seeds

“You had me at doughnut.” Well, duh. Thanks to someone’s post on Facebook, today I saw a video about a one of Whidbey Island’s boutique doughnut experiences. This ain’t Dunkin, people. One couple has launched a YouTube channel where they tour and review doughnut shops around the country (world?). This time, they profiled Whidbey Doughnuts, a doughnut shop/diner that I frequent for breakfast. Both the shop and the channel remind me that sometimes a simple idea can reach far, especially when supporting others with similar approaches.

Let us not trivialize either endeavour. Opening a doughnut shop sounds simpler than running a steak house, but ask any commercial baker about their hours, or drive past Whidbey Doughnuts when the Open sign is off, but the lights are on in the kitchen. Launching a YouTube channel can be much simpler, but deciding to do so where travel is required can be intimidating and expensive.

And yet. Doughnuts are a simple idea, and a great culinary start. YouTube channels cost little to launch, and can lead to greater careers.

Insert your favorite doughnut photo here. Whidbey Doughnuts are impressive, but I go there to eat, not take photos – and I order eggs, bacon, and potatoes. They have gluten-free doughnuts (Yay!), but the rest of breakfast is already decadent enough for me.

Many of my friends impress me. Take a simple idea and do something with it besides talking about it. The world is driven by unintended consequences, so don’t depend too much on plan after plan after plan. But plan. At least a plan gives you a direction.

Whidbey Island seems to be a haven for entrepreneurs, artists, and similarly creative people. An entire market of localvores work from the ideas they’ve had for produce, meat, wine, spirits, beer, whatever. Artists have their art reach out far beyond the borders, the moat that is the water that defines the island.

A friend and I are blending a few of these concepts into a blog and podcast, WritingOnWhidbeyIsland.com (aka WOWI, an acronym that many writers cringe at, but that we’ve decided to embrace.). Two guys, a microphone or two, a nomadic selection of recording sites, and a scrolling list of writers, booksellers, publishers, illustrators, editors, whoever is a part of the Whidbey Island writing community that’s willing to be recorded as if live (because Don and I are both so busy that we barely have time to organize, record, clip to length, and post the podcast to the blog. (We’ll work to a regular podcasting site when we find the time and money.)

Why do something as simple as that? Mega-corporations can launch massive marketing compaigns with focus groups and outreach efforts. We can manage to free up about an hour a week to put some energy behind something we both care about: the the writing community on Whidbey Island.

Look around the surprising businesses. Microsoft, Amazon, Apple, Starbucks, Pixar, all started with simple ideas that were laughed at, though decades later the laughter of those echoes is hard to remember. (All of which I invested in, too. Details in my book, Dream. Invest. Live. which is the basis of this blog.)

Look around at some of the YouTube stars. Whidbey Island’s, Amy Walker’s engaging videos for accents and actors, with her now 154K subscribers. Hannah Hart, who became popular by videoing herself cooking while drinking, while not excelling at either; but who built a massive business based on one video of a grilled cheese sandwich, where she forgot the cheese. Hank and John Green, who started a channel by sending each other video chats every week, that pulled in millions of viewers and launched dozens of entertaining and educational channels. One stellar example is an Australian who says nothing, but silently engineers the essentials of a simple lifestyle from the materials on his property.

Writers can launch careers from single books. Musicians can do so from a song. Inventors can build wealth from an invention.

There is no guarantee of success. If there was, at least one of my books, videos, photos, or performances would’ve already helped me re-retire. And yet, that may only be a day away.

Most of these ideas weren’t instant successes. Creative products frequently are born, then languish as their creator’s enthusiasm fades, only to be re-invigorated when found by some trendsetter, or definite unmet need. The 10,000 Hour Rule is similar. Sometimes it takes time for something to become recognized as valuable.

That’s the opportunity creative people can create for themselves. It is one reason I am a fan of entrepreneurship for people who are trying to improve their personal finances. If there’s nothing else to do, and not much to do it with, play until you find something you can make from nothing. Words are cheap. Almost everyone has a phone that exceeds my first digital camera. Artists frequently work from found objects.

The opportunity can also be tied to a necessity. Regardless of the economic data, the person without a job or who hasn’t been able to find one doesn’t care if they’re part of 3%, 6%, or 12% of the population. Out of a job is out of a job.

The folks driving around eating doughnuts probably have friends and family who scoff. So what? They’re producing. Just like so many of my creative friends, creating creates hope and possibilities. No guarantees, but that goes both ways. There’s no guarantee of success, but there’s no guarantee of failure – unless there’s attempt.

Now, about the folks who are following my tweets about tea… (see #TomTea on Twitter). Something there to expand?

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