Undeferring Deferred Shopping

Posted on October 25, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

Let’s go shopping! About this time last year, I wrote the post, Undeferring Deferred Maintenance (September 2023). I had a breakthrough, or a breakdown, or whatever but I found a way to launch into some chores that had been deferred for too long, in some cases over a decade. That was the maintenance. This year is the shopping. The shopping is happening because I sold the house that I did the maintenance on. Hello, cash. Hello, moving. Hello, realizing it was finally time to replace a few, ha, a lot of things. Relief? For sure. An education? More than I expected. Lessons? Yep.

I just glanced at my hands while I paused typing this. Age and time change things. My skin has a few more wrinkles. Age spots have shown up. Surprisingly, some youthful scars are gone. 

It isn’t much of a surprise that it is time to replace worn-out things. We pesky humans can complain about aging, but we regenerate, at least partly. 

You will be spared the list of everything I bought, unless you want to zoom in on this picture. Soon after moving into my tiny house (mytinyexperiment.com), I taped a sheet of flip chart paper to the bathroom door. I realized the list of things to replace was so long that I had to take notes. As ideas came to mind, I wrote them down. The list grew and isn’t done. As things were bought, they were crossed off the list.

My lifestyle has improved.

My cash has diminished, but not much compared to what I made from the house. Most of the house proceeds went into buying my tiny house, about as much into investments, and as much into cash to possibly pay taxes (True Tax Relief). Compared to those buckets, the purchases are small. Compared to what I had last year, the purchases were impossible. 

I guess I am not a geek’s geek because I didn’t turn the list into a spreadsheet. I have saved all of the receipts, though. A quick estimate of the expenses is about $10K. That’s a lot of money, and it’s not.

Some of the larger items: computer, phone, washer/dryer, nice toaster oven, induction burner, etc. Plus a few major maintenance tasks: tree trimming, kitchen faucet, 100,000 mile maintenance. Let’s make that about $12,000.

For some folks, $10K to $12K would be like getting an extra job without having to go to work. For some folks, it’s the roundoff error in their IRA, which could be positive or negative.

For me, it is a reminder of how close a better lifestyle was, as well as how far away. It was tantalizing, as in Tantalus’ torment in Hades. 

Things work better now. I spend less time rigging up patches as fixes, knowing they are temporary. My equipment is much more capable. I’m using them as before, but I’m also practicing with their new features as they open creative possibilities that I’ve seen others exercise. Stay tuned for more videos and photo essays.

Things are also more difficult, now. Even my washer/dryer is run by an AI! Each machine could warrant a class, or at least a good owner’s manual, but at best I find a link, and sometimes only a QR code. Falling behind in upgrades also meant falling behind in the incremental educational lessons for a decade. (And here I pause as I hold myself back from venting about companies that mistake New for Improved.)

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Shopping.

And the deliveries.

It is tempting to imagine buying all of those things all at once. Instant Gratification. That’s what shopping malls were good for, one-stop shopping. Or Amazon, one-stop shopping in the biggest mall in the world, and maybe next-day delivery.

I slow that down. Pick what’s most urgent, or at least convenient. Ideally, buy a thing, wait for the thing, get the thing, unpack the thing, learn how to use the thing, then buy the next thing. Pacing. Of course, with some small things, it is okay to buy a few. Luckily, I’ve never had the UPS, USPS, and FedEx deliveries collide. 

Currently, I’m waiting for the bulk delivery of my newest book, Fire Race, the sequel to Firewatcher; and while I wait, I ordered some storage bins for my tiny house. After that comes a camera, and …

And, soon, the list will be largely complete. Ten years of deferred shopping has convinced me of how little I need. Doing without becomes a habit. But it is nice to quit trying to convince a ten-year-old laptop that the internet has changed in the meantime. (Zoom calls can be so embarrassing at the time and entertaining in retrospect.)

So, stay tuned as new books, photos, and stories come along. If only I can figure out the arcane language that alludes me when I try to Search or Find what I’m looking for. Is there an Index I can highlight with a pen and plaster with post-its?

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Fire Race And More

Posted on October 18, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

Yay! My book is published! Fire Race, the sequel to Firewatcher is available for sale on Amazon. (I suspect you can ask your library for a copy, too.) If the world was normal, this post would be about that and nothing else. The world isn’t normal. Here’s the “And More” part of the title, too. And, an insight into the value of time.
Fire Race Is Published

There’s always going to be a new reader who hasn’t met my bookshelf. Fire Race is my ninth book, my second science fiction novel, and the sequel to Firewatcher, a story about a bunch of humans that escape Earth to escape the AI threat before it threatens them more. In Firewatcher, they find the planet (Whew) and then find the aliens (uh oh) who aren’t aliens because they’re the locals and the humans are the aliens. They survive, and then find out about fire and seafood. That’s where the second book takes over. Can they race the fire? Thanks to all of the Firewatcher readers who asked for the sequel. And, there’s a sequel to the sequel. (And thanks to Joe Menth of Feather and Fox for making the cover happen.)

That took a couple of years.

This week was also the week when our podcast went live on Spotify. IntriguingCreativity.com is simply Steve Smolinsky and me talking about the weirdness of the world, unintended consequences, and how people somehow manage. Once a month, we play with our stream-of-consciousness, that usually starts out simple and somehow gets around to global issues. No script. Ten episodes so far. Stay tuned for more.

Getting onto Spotify took only ten minutes of talking to Sean Keeley (www.seankeeley.me/), and months of me trying to do it alone. Asking for help helps.

Then, earlier this week, I sat in on a County Commissioners’ meeting. I live in a mobile home park that accepts tiny houses, which is why I bought one and moved there five months ago. And, they’re selling the park. That story is too typical. I have no official job, but I happened to do something I evidently do well enough: I took notes and wrote them up. Now, they’re being referenced by some folks who couldn’t be there. Couple that with attending a presentation about affordable housing (expertly given by Jefferson County’s Housing Solutions Network), and the week held a lot of news that matters to me and my neighbors.
October Update – They Are Selling My Park

That story has been playing out since I got my first letter in the new house’s mailbox.

I needed a break. Friday afternoon, I decided to visit my storage unit and grab a paperback or two to read. A storm is blowing through, and if the power goes out, I want to have something entertaining that doesn’t require batteries. But first, swing past the mailbox. Hmm. Nothing much – except a ballot. Pick it up. Swing back home. Fill it out. Less than eleven minutes later I drove to a mailbox. Voted.

A friend noted that he can not recall any time when I haven’t been busy. 

It looks like I’m about to try. The book is done, but my copies haven’t arrived yet. The podcast is on Spotify, but there’s little to do about that until next month’s episode. My park may be for sale, but real estate transactions, especially ones involving affordable housing and a hundred households, can hit hurdles. And, I voted. I ignored a lot of the political commentary before. And I can go back to ignoring it now and later. 

Will I finally have some time off? Yes, and no.

A common bit of advice to writers is that writing a book is only half the job. Yes, and no. Take a look back at my first book, Just Keep Pedaling. It took 11 weeks to bicycle from an island north of Seattle to an island south of Miami, a year or two to write the book, and here I am still telling folks about the book decades later. That’s true of all of my books. Fire Race has a similar potential, partly because of the story partly because of insights about people and aliens experiencing dissension and resolution, and also for unintended consequences. At its core is the human reaction to deciding to escape an unconquerable threat, and dealing with the life that follows.

And then there’s the sequel.

But first, there’s the sequel to another of my books, the one about personal finance. Soon, I’ll start on From Middle Class To Millionaire To Mostly Muddling By – a rollercoaster ride through America’s wealth classes. Regular readers of this blog have been reading the years of notes that are its basis. Thanks for being there.

Time is precious. I definitely fill my time, but there are arguments, or at least discussions, about whether I fill it productively. So far, I have yet to fill it monetarily profitably. There’s a fine debate: is work worth doing if it doesn’t produce tangible worth? Ideally, yes. Realistically – well, the term starving artist is not new. 

OK. Time for me to close, edit, post, and then dine. Stop writing! At least for an evening, and maybe a weekend. Just let me write down some notes… 

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Reblog: October Update – They Are Selling My Park

Posted on October 15, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

A core personal finance issue that’s personal and real and larger than me. Terms like Affordable Housing can become so commonplace that they’re easy to ignore. Here’s a specific case that’s happening to my neighborhood. As I wrote in the post, “Of all the folks unlucky enough to be affected and in the room, I may have been the least unlucky.” Will a hundred households have to move, and if so, where and how?

Cross posted from one of my other blogs. (Yeah, I have a few.)

MyTinyExperiment.com – Can an over six-foot, over 200 pound, 65 year-old man live in a big tiny house – especially after writing about them for over ten years?

https://www.mytinyexperiment.com/blog/october-update-they-are-selling-my-park

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True Tax Relief

Posted on October 12, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

I wanted to start writing this Friday afternoon, but I was due to be interrupted by the delivery and installation of a $2,000 washer/dryer and didn’t want the writing to be interrupted too. Maybe I’ll pull some weeds in the meantime.

Done. And now, let’s begin.

This headache is more because there’s so much going on that’s good. It isn’t the ‘good’ that’s the issue; it’s the ‘so much’. My new washer/dryer is working as I type. (Washer Dryer Whew) (Interesting that the fridge picked this moment to sound sick.) Skip to the bottom for my good news about my next book, the sequel to Firewatcher. But this blog post is about the third good thing that may be a much bigger adjustment for now. Since I sold my house to buy this tiny house, I’ve held tens of thousands of dollars in cash in case one piece of advice was right. They were wrong. Sudden wealth, of a sort.

I do appreciate the free advice that tried to spare me from upsetting the tax authorities. Once upon a time, I was a realtor, so I was somewhat familiar with real estate taxes. My understanding was that the taxes were excused if the sale was of a long-time permanent residence (for a given interpretation of ‘permanent’.) I’d lived in the house for over a decade, so I thought I was clear. 

But… a well-meaning friend said that they thought otherwise. They thought that the tax exclusion had been temporary and that I’d have to pay capital gains taxes. Eep. In 2007, I bought the house for $291,000, and sold it in 2024 for $525,000 (as I recall.) That’s a lot of tax! 

That’s a lot of tax because, even after paying off debts (Debt Free Again), that’s a lot of money. OK. I pay my taxes, but ouch, considering that I was selling the house because it was no longer affordable. (Sad.) And yet, it is a lot of money that could also be invested. (Time To Buy But What) So, I estimated the possible taxes, added in some contingencies, guessed at how much I’d spend getting the new old big tiny house upgraded, threw in a buffer, and started investing the rest. Much math has been involved, well, just arithmetic.

The sale was five months ago. 

In the meantime, the companies I’ve invested in have had good news. Geron had FDA approval. Lineage Cell advanced clinical trials. Intuitive Machines won some nice contracts. D-Wave Quantum made nice progress in quantum computing. Their stocks, GERN, LCTX, LUNR, and QBTS have had varying success, but startups frequently have a poor correlation between company and stock performance. I’m patient. I’ll wait.

I coulda bought more, and am not dismayed that I didn’t. Now, I can.

Anxieties do not require logic. The prospect of being wrong about my taxes was immense enough that I avoided the topic while I did things like clear a tree from hitting the house, bought furniture, paid for storage, etc. I sold my house because I lacked public confidence that I’d be able to keep it. That lack of confidence was amplified by the suggestion that I’d have to spend tens of thousands in taxes, too. I thought I was clear, but I also was very aware that I am human. Maybe I was wrong.

Five months later, I had a moment when I felt confident enough to ask my trusted tax accountant how much I owed. The answer came a day later. Zero. My interpretation was correct. Whew. Big Whew.

That free advice cost me five months of anxiety. Logically, it didn’t have to be so. I could’ve asked the question sooner. As I mentioned, anxiety does not require logic. That lack of confidence made it easier to avoid the topic. Avoidance was easy because I also decided to take the time to find a new accountant in my new neighborhood. Unnecessary.

I don’t fault my friend who gave me that advice. Friends look out for friends. Don’t put your hand in the fire. Don’t get on that rickety ladder. Make sure you’ve turned off the breaker. They give advice to help take care of things we may overlook. Imagine their dismay if they’d said nothing, I’d spent too much of the money, and then found I owed tens of thousands as, perhaps, my stocks had done poorly. 

And now, here I sit, guessing that the noises from the washer/dryer are typical, normal, nothing to worry about. I get to adjust to this luxury. 

And now, here I sit, removing a massive layer of uncertainty from my life, and re-revealing resources that are readily available. Logically, that means a more secure financial future. Emotionally, it means I might go out to dinner a bit more, or visit the family plot, or – gasp – take a vacation?! Realistically, it means a new phone, a new camera, and … I’m sure I’ll think of something.

One friend observed that, since I almost lost my house a decade ago, I’ve exhibited symptoms of PTSD. The techniques the bill collectors used made a mark that I now get to remove. Hopefully, a light cleansing is all that is needed, not scrubbing with steel wool for the soul.

On another practical point, it also means I get to return to researching stocks. The recent batch were very technical: lunar exploration, quantum computing, solid batteries. One field of investing has also been profitable: silly things that many people spend money on that make me shake my head. Starbucks’ appeal made some sense. They taught me how to make tea (Kettle Pot Cup), but seeing friends take their kids, the next generation, to a coffee place looked profitable. I wish I’d listened to my own advice when I visited one of the early Costcos and wondered at the suburban-ites loading their SUVs with bulk buys. As for SUVs, I’ve been a fan of Jeeps for decades because I liked the mix of Sport with Utility in a Vehicle. Now, SUVs are rugged replacements for the family van, as if every family needs to blast up into the mountains and through streams to get to a scenic cliff every weekend. (For an example of how I used my Jeep, read Twelve Months at Barclay Lake.)

It might be time for me to look past the serious and see what’s silly now. There might be a wealth to pick from.

I will also take this tale of the impact of advice as advice for myself. Understanding how a person will take advice can be as important as the advice. Asking questions about the person, well, that should just be part of human nature.

The washer/dryer should be close to done. There are more loads to do. There is more writing to do. There is more research to do. But maybe after I do my chores, I’ll clean me, take myself out to dinner, and to a movie. Researching companies can come later. Living is more important.

Done with the post. My next chore for the day is to upload my next book to Amazon, my ninth, the sequel to Firewatcher. I’m eager to show you the cover and, of course, more eager for you to read and enjoy it. One thing at a time, eh?

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Stores Malls And Loyalty

Posted on October 5, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

Gag. I did it. I drove back into the heart of civilization, or at least its suburban edges. Shopping didn’t need to be done, and yet, the want was strong. My tiny house is outside a small town, which seems big compared to where I lived until recently, but such small places don’t have appliance stores. I wanted a washer/dryer. That went well, so far; a bit pricier than I expected. I learned a few things. I also solidified two stereotypes. Compare and contrast: someone who enjoys their work, and someone who seems to think showing up is sufficient. An interesting day, and one when a salesperson missed out on a $1,000 sale. The helpful one got a >$2,000 sale.

For those interested in the tiny house life, I’m chronicling mine on one of my other blogs, https://www.mytinyexperiment.com/. Can a man over 60, over two feet tall, and over 200 pounds live in a tiny house? Duh. 

Yeah. But, it doesn’t have a washer and dryer. My house is tiny, but barely so. In Jefferson County (WA), the cutoff seems to be 400 square feet. My house is 391 square feet. There’s enough room for a washer/dryer, but one hasn’t been installed. The house was built in 2006, so I guess there’s a good chance that there have been lots of laundromat trips since then. That’s a lot of quarters.

That’s what I’ve been doing since I moved in almost five months ago. It is fine, or at least fine enough. So, I don’t Need a washer/dryer, but it would save me a lot of time when all I want to do is wash my clothes after a hike or before a dance. Ten minutes there, ten minutes back, an hour and a half in the middle for the cleaning, and dollars in quarters. Then, of course, in the autumn of 2024, the laundromat is a central point for the pandemic, politics, and a slice of American life. 

Life is more than meeting needs. That’s survival, and a fine place to start, but living benefits from a little bit more.

Pardon me as I clear my throat because a washer/dryer is not “a little bit.” Eep! But, hey, I got a sale item for ~$2,000 (+tax). Tiny houses get to deal with specialized equipment that isn’t made in as great a quantity. The price goes up as the size goes down. Forget side-by-side. Think stacked appliances, or in my case with a bit of a splurge, a 2-in-1 unit: wash then dry without having to move the clothes from one machine to the other. Bonus: That leaves the space above the unit available to hang clothes, or install some shelves, or…

I think I calculated this somewhere, but I’ll do it here, just to be sure.

My new old (2006) tiny house : $76,500 / 391 square feet = $195/square foot
Washer/dryer ~ 30 inches wide and deep = 900 square inches = 6.25 square feet
The value of the house’s square footage occupied by the washer/dryer = $1,218

For me, that puts the price of the washer/dryer in some perspective. 

BTW the similar-sized tiny next door is new and ~$130,000. (Won’t you be my neighbor?) 
$130,000/$76,500 = 1.7
1.7 x $1,218 = $2,070

(Numbers truncated rather than rounded up because this analysis does not require that level of precision.)

The additional inspiration for this post was the person who worked me through the modern technology and prices. I didn’t ask if I could mention them by name, so please pardon lots of pronouns.

Let’s see. The last time I bought a washer and a dryer (seperate units) was 2005. Do you know prices have gone up since then? A close friend bought a nice pair several years ago, so I knew to expect more than ‘twist the dial and push it to operate it. I appreciate the honest laugh when my guess at electrian’s hourly rates was off enough to be an anachronism. And yet, he was professional and friendly, even before I bought anything. Stay tuned, because I’ll post the rest of the experience on one of these blogs after it is delivered, installed, and completed its first load.

That <$2,000 was an ouch (#understatement), but it was less than I was quoted at an orange Big Box Store. The place that got the sale was a local chain that specializes in appliances. They actually knew what they were talking about. The person in the orange Big Box Store seemed only interested in selling me the most expensive unit, even after I pointed out that there were cheaper units that would also fit. He said they wouldn’t. My tape measure and the manufacturer’s spec sheet said they all would. He didn’t get the sale.

Whew. It was a drive of dozens of miles to get to Silverdale, a fine town by the water, but it is known for its row of strip malls and big box stores. I’ll spare you some of the shopping trip and skip to the last stop.

I need a new phone. Well, maybe not need, but nine-year-old electronics are far past middle-aged. It is time to retire it. Besides, after my recent move, I’ve been updating lots of things I hung onto for years because I was in too much debt. Now that I am debt-free I can un-defer some deferred expenditures.

A new phone can be simple enough, but I’m also a photographer, post videos, and run a YouTube channel (search on tetrimbath). Ideally, I want a selfie-stick, not for selfies, but because with the right one, my phone videos would no longer make people seasick, or make them think the world is tilted. (Oh, no! The ocean is going to spill out of the frame!)

Welcome to a young man in the phone store. He looked relaxed and casual. Ready to sell me something. No waiting. 

As long as we were talking about the phone, he would point (literally) to a few of them. He knew which one had the best camera, but he didn’t know any of the specifics. He encouraged me to use any of them to find out more by exploring their settings. Anyone could do it. I asked the same question at a similar store months ago, but because of illnesses, it was a one-man show with a long line of people, some of whom were obviously anxious. But, at least he tried. He checked in with each of us to see if our issues could be easily resolved. I wasn’t in a rush. He was having a bad day. I wish him well.

Remember me mentioning the selfie stick? The one I plan to use is ~$250. It’s good. I’ll spare you the details. The phone that pairs with it is ~$1,000, plus a service plan. Today’s guy’s response was the same as with the phone. Basically, look it up yourself. Smile. I’ve had better service when buying a yoga mat. I bowed out, apologizing for imposing upon his time. I wondered if his seat was still warm.

Rather than being irate, I was disappointed. But then, his store was in a less-energetic location. It is in an old-style one-level shopping mall; basically, a strip mall with a roof over it. It is convenient, and much more relaxing than watching for the chaotic traffic of left turns and convoluted concrete parking lots. (I’m a fan of creativity, but when it comes to a commercial zone a grid can be a good thing.)

The big appliance store was a smaller chain, and off on its own. They have big boxes to handle, but they aren’t a big box store. And they’re friendly. 

The big box stores were along an interweaving and overlapping series of asphalt parking lots with no apparent organization. Not required, but appreciated. Also, some fascinating and incredible driving events. (Dude, your car sounds loud, but didn’t you see that the next light is only a few hundred feet away? A bicycle will get you there faster.)

Stereotypes. Don’t like ’em. Yet, my day of few data points was firming them up.

One other stop was a loyalty stop: REI. It is an (inter?)national outdoor outfitter, though I am old enough to remember it when it was one store between Pike and Pine (Seattle), the same era of Starbucks’ Pike Place market location.

There may have been more helpers than customers, but rather than simply showing up for work, they kept themselves busy, offering more help than I needed (but not too much), and with good stories about good hiking trips they’ve taken. (Congrats again on the Wonderland Trail. Been there. Done that. Miss it. One lap of Mt. Rainier and sights few others see.) 

One of my favorite Christmas presents was an REI jacket from about thirty years ago. Thirty years of hiking, skiing, bicycling, and, of course, everyday wear (as conditions suggested) and the elbows were thinning, the sleeves stretched out, and the main zipper would unzip itself. Oops. Time for a refresh. It took a while, but after looking past the clothes made more for fashion ($300?!) than for function, I found a replacement for $60. REI made, or at least an REI label.

Loyalty, frugality, friendliness, community, caring,… they’re worth something.

By the way, as my finances allow, I also may replace my fridge and swap out a propane range for an induction one equipped with a convection oven. I’m sure it isn’t even a guess of where I intend to shop for them.

Oh, and for that phone? That store in almost an hour in the opposite direction, and I’ll gladly make that drive.

As for the rest of my shopping: Shop Local with the businesses who are willing to live in a smaller and quieter town.

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Only

Posted on October 4, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

Only

I heard it on the radio. I was driving, the usual place I listen to the radio, when someone said, ”only’.’ They way they said it and the way they used it made me want to respond. ”only’?’ A lot of possibilities sit on the other side of ‘only’. Eventually, I found a safe time and place to make the note, but I forgot who said it or why. Sigh. And then, I started hearing it so often that it made me discount much of what people said – even regarding money.

If only, these people would wise up, or those people would do something or stop doing what they’re doing… 
If only, everyone gave $5… Sounds like money is most important.|
If only, people were better prepared… But it is impossible to prepare for everything.
If only, people were kinder, or stronger, or both… Unless they’re already at their limit.
If only, people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. But maybe they don’t have bootstraps.
If only, people and businesses paid their taxes… Which they should, and evidently don’t, either by choice, or necessity, or ignorance.
If only, we switched to totally sustainable energy, farming, diets, etc.
If only, things were different. Well, yeah, duh. If things were different, things would be different.

‘Only’ is one of those words that can cover insurmountable efforts, incredible hurdles, fallacies, dreams, and disasters. There is an infinity  of IFs in an ‘only’.

For one day ‘only’…
For $x in ‘only’ several payments…

I’m playing with this word and mentioning it here because I’m recognizing that a lot of life is in ‘only’ this or ‘only’ that.

Skip the details. Rather than list too many instances of ‘only’, it is easier to suggest intentionally listening to what is actually said. ‘only’ discounts the rest of the sentence. 

‘Only’ can also bring honesty to advice. Strong declarative sentences are in fashion. Just listen to politics. Except for fundraisers, ‘only’ is left out of most sentences. If ‘only’ suggests there is more than one possibility. Sales pitches employ those possibilities in fear marketing, and a lot of marketing is fear marketing. Don’t miss out. You must take this medication. Society counts on you to do what we ask you to do. Feeling the anxiety? Feeling the pressure? Ah, but they say, if ‘only’ people would listen.

Of course, ‘only’ has other uses, but I hear ‘only’ in enough advertisements that it has gone past having the intended effect.

I pause in this less-than-literary post because I reflect on how many people are manipulated without realizing it. I guess two political parties trying to make it easy to see their point of view, ‘only’, has me reflecting on the people I know who live intentional lives, or at least try. Go back to one interpretation of frugality: respecting people, resources, and the world around us. Live sustainably. They impress me.

If ‘only’ more people would be like them.

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Give Ten Percent

Posted on September 26, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

“I feel guilty, but what am I supposed to do? I’m rich.” That’s what I heard from a wealthy patron of the arts at a film festival. It was obvious that she honestly felt guilt, but it was also obvious that she knew she’d done nothing wrong. What was she supposed to do? I shrugged – and then pointed out that she could keep doing what she was already doing, supporting the arts because that was a direct way to support artists. I don’t know what she thought of that idea because a friend of mine came over to say hello. And she was gone. It wasn’t until the next day that I thought of one answer that was new; give an extra ten percent.

I am sure some readers are echoing vows of poverty from religious orders. I only know one person who has done that, a highly successful salesman making five figures a month who gave it all, all, up and became a Buddhist monk. He has a sense of irony, so after ten years of intense meditation, he went back to school at a Jesuit college to get a masters. He ruffled feathers, and chuckled. He has plenty of stories of the people who never had to take the first step of giving it all up because they never had anything. I doubt that even he would suggest that everyone give it all away. It is simply too traumatic for many.

My conversation with the art patron was longer than a line or two. Giving to others doesn’t have to be a chore. She was a patron of a film festival. She mentioned that she always tried to buy local. She does what she can – and yet feels that it isn’t enough. I think she’s on the right track.

Tourist towns are pricey. (Loving Living Leaving A Tourist Town) The irony is that the people who make the town work get priced out by the people who pay for their work. They basically bid up the prices amongst themselves by demanding ever higher luxuries, which can be good for the local businesses; but, if prices go up faster than profits and wages, then the local owners and workers can be left behind. 

No one policy is going to fix that fiscal inequity. But…

She was already supporting the arts, and that can be extended to functional art. She was shopping at the local markets, not QFC or Safeway, but the places where neighbors work, the places that also purchase local products, produce, and harvests. Skip the latest chardonnay from some place states or countries away. The local winery, cidery, brewery, and even the dairy can appreciate your business. Indulge yourself. Hire out the lawnwork, the housework, the woodwork, the work work. Don’t flaunt it, but if you’ve got it and want to give it to someone else, maybe get something in return. (Though don’t underestimate the power of simple direct gifts. Sometimes, money is the thing that makes the biggest difference.)

And then I thought… No. I didn’t think. A thought bopped into my brain. Give ten percent.

When I give talks, I frequently point out that for the price of a nicer trim package of a new car, someone else could get out of debt, or pay some medical bills, or pay for child care, or, or, or… But, it isn’t necessary to deny yourself that sweeter ride. If you have the money, buy it, and then donate an equal amount as that trim package to someone or some charity. Another way to do that, give ten percent.

Imagine ten people who paid for roof work, each donating ten percent. Those ten people could be paying for replacing a dangerously leaky and deteriorating roof. That’s assuming the ten people had the same size roof as the roof that needed radical repair. It is more likely that the worst roof is also the smallest roof, which would mean there’d be more than one household benefiting. Pick your area of philanthropy. Structural, medical, educational, some other -al. 

The idealist in me says do it because it is the right thing to do, and the realist in me knows that many people would only do it if they could claim it on their taxes. I’ve been there, back when I was much wealthier.

Pardon this somewhat long story, but one time, I accidentally sat in on a meeting of foundations. I thought it was a talk about the philosophy of philanthropy, and it was, but there were only a few other folks there. They represented organizations at the level of Ford Foundation and Carnegie debating their philosophical conundrums. (My apologies that I can’t recall the exact ones. This was over a decade ago.) After we realized my mistake, they invited me to stay. I called what I did ‘checkbook philanthropy’. They liked it. I gave a few dollars here or there. I didn’t have much, but sometimes someone or a small business doesn’t need much – including no strings. I didn’t get the tax benefits, but I also didn’t get the paperwork hassles. 

The foundations were frustrated because their bylaws and such meant paperwork had two extremes: pure philanthropy with no return, or conventional investing and expectations of a return on their investment. If they found someone or some organization that was doing good things and might only get half of their money back, they were stuck. They felt that they couldn’t help innovators, struggling socially conscious companies, or idealistic individuals who might help an economy. They also knew that they were giving money to people who knew how to play the system, and couldn’t help people who truly needed it but were so busy that they didn’t have the time to find out about the funding, or how to apply, or how to qualify for the right tax status.

At a very basic level, we are allowed to give money to each other. It can be hard to know how much to give. Monks may give away everything, but the monastic life is too limiting for almost everyone, I expect. Someone who is poor can wonder why someone rich doesn’t give it all away. Giving it all away means having nothing left. Paying taxes is a first step; no dodging, no shelters. Giving nothing is tempting. (The cries of ‘mine’ and ‘more’ conjure reminders of Madonna’s character in Dick Tracy and Edward G. Robinson’s character in Key Largo.) Give ten percent may be worth a try to those who have sufficient comfortable excess, to those who have a bit of that honest guilt.

Her honest guilt is rare, yet it is an undercurrent within the conversations of wealth inequality. The counter undercurrent is, why don’t the rich give more, especially when the people who need it are the people who are serving the ones with more than enough. One problem (of which we have so many) is how to have that conversation. I’m not sure how. But, if people voluntarily added an extra ten percent to whatever luxury they bought, there might be less guilt and a lot more good.

Buy a season ticket to a baseball team, donate ten percent to the local little league. Buy a ticket to the opera, donate ten percent to a local music program. Buy a new wrought iron railing, give to a local vocational school. 

I know. I know. I’m a silly stupid idealist. Except that, for a small time in my life, I was able to do such things. I was quite quiet about it. I was so quiet about it that a friend liked something I did, so they gifted me a similar sum – without realizing I wasn’t in need (at the time.) They mistook my frugality by choice for frugality by necessity. Ironically, in their version, it didn’t matter. They figured I could pass it along if I wished. It was a gift, no strings attached.

And another friend was so generous during one of my toughest times that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay that debt. They made an existential difference in my life. Hmm. If I win the lottery…

And, really, personal philathropy, even anonymously, was much more gratifying than writing a check to a 501(c)(3). Both are good, but one brought much bigger smiles.

(This following paragraph just popped up. Didn’t plan to get here, but while I’m here, well, here it is.)

If it seems like this has been on my mind, that’s because it is. I’m finishing up my next book (the sequel to Firewatcher). After that, I am going to start on the sequel to Dream. Invest. Live. Dream. Invest. Live. is the basis for this blog. Long-time readers know that I’ve been on a financial roller coaster for decades. The sequel’s working title is ‘From Middle Class to Millionaire to (Mostly) Muddling By – a roller-coaster ride through America’s wealth classes.’ I’ve been taking notes along this accidental ride. We are all in this together, but there are few that seem to feel that we are truly together. Hopefully, I can at least point out a perspective or two or three or more about topics like housing and the rest. Stay tuned, and hold on. It’s been an incredible ride.

And, really, personal philanthropy, even anonymously, was much more gratifying than writing a check to a 501(c)(3). Both are good, but one brought much bigger smiles.

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Again So Soon LUNR

Posted on September 19, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

Again, so soon, LUNR? I just wrote about you. And I wrote about you. And, and, and… Last month (August 2024), I wrote about Investing And Roller Coaster Emotions – LUNR because the company had news and the stock responded. I thanked my intuition, at least a little, because I followed it and bought more shares. (Intuitive Machine Intuition) And, now, they did it again, in a much grander fashion. 

“OK, intuition, why are you encouraging me to write about this stock, LUNR, on this day, August 23, 2024?“

I bought shares of LUNR on the 23rd oof August. The next week, LUNR announced a $116.9M contract. The stock spiked. This week, LUNR announced a $4.82B contract – potentially. Yeah. It spiked again. Up over 60% in five days. Up over 118% in one month. Evidently, my intuition deserves greater thanks that I’ve already delivered. 

I give myself permission to copy from myself.

“The market value of a company can be based on its future revenues discounted by risk. A $116.9M check is worth $116.9M, but work must be done, which is a risk; rockets and such must be launched, orbited, and landed, which are risks; competition happens; disasters at the Earth facilities can happen; budget cuts happen; etc.; etc.; etc. If that check is going to arrive later, then inflation diminishes it. That reduces its present value. The check may be for $116.9M, but its value to the company and its influence on the stock is different. The analysts guess. The investors decide. Reality eventually reveals the truth.” –Investing And Roller Coaster Emotions – LUNR

This new contract is worth $4.82B (B not M), “but work must be done…”. And ‘worth’ is a possible worth, not a guarantee, but also not a limit when indirect effects are included. For the purposes of this post, I’ll point at the lack of certainty, but won’t* asterisk* every* word*.

Pardon me as I thank my intuition, again. Tea helps.

First, and in no particular order: This emotional roller coaster was less of a ride than the previous one, even though it is worth more than 40 times as much. B is bigger than M, a lot bigger. My emotions weren’t 40 times greater. Experience helps. News hits. Emotions run. Investors buy or sell. Then, slower thoughts arrive. Future revenues are great, but this the present. Enthusiasm might fade, and so can the price. Been here. Ridden stocks up. Optimism persists, but this is not the time to cash out.

Second: But, but, but… 4.82B! Yes, over several years. Yes, there are all of those risks. And, I wonder if there is an element of disbelief. LUNR? Really? That tiny company? Once upon a time, SpaceX was small. The comparison isn’t a duplication, but they’re more similar than many companies. But, $4.2B, which can be the beginning; or, more possibly more correctly, that $116.9M was the beginning, or any of their previous contracts. Overnight successes in the space industry take more than overnight. How big can they become? 

Third: Why isn’t a forty-fold increase in the value of a contract creating a forty-fold increase in the stock price? People are people. The future isn’t now, even though it isn’t much further. Multiplying a tiny market cap by 2 or 3 may still be within the statistical variation of the analysts’s estimates in such a new industry as commercial lunar space. Multiplying by 40, however, is a harder sell to an investment manager. What really is the present value of the future revenues discounted for risk? Until those estimates narrow, there may be great variation in what is considered an appropriate price.

Wildly different contract sizes, basically the same stock price movement – so far.

The news may still be sinking in. I’d be surprised if anyone’s estimating model for lunar businesses has matured. Every launch and mission will refine those models. This ride can take a while. 

SpaceX is royalty, but the US government may not want to be limited to that one voice. Boeing’s credibility is damaged (and many of my friends who worked there have their theories). China and other commercial interests aren’t waiting. This is a race that doesn’t wait for media outlets to make that declaration. Businesses do that for themselves, or get left behind. 

Google Finance

LUNR closed at $9.28, September 19, 2024. Their market cap is $1.24B. There’s that B. Nice to see it. How big can it be? This looks like a stock to watch because of its potential, but also because of its unknowns. This won’t be dull. Thank you, intuition. Got any other good ideas?

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Port Townsend Is Great And

Posted on September 13, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

Port Townsend is great! So is my old neighborhood on Whidbey Island. In my opinion, so is much of the East Coast of the Pacific Ocean between Mt. Shasta in California and Juneau in Alaska. (Note: Pacific Northwest is a very parochial perspective. From the ocean’s perspective, California, Oregon, Washington, British Columbia, and Alaska are on the ocean’s eastern shore. From the Canadian perspective, British Columbia is Southwest, not Northwest. Canada has an entire province that really understands North and West.) Today I hiked along Hurricane Ridge, a part of the US Olympic National Park. There was even a view of Canada from up there. I suspect not, now. It’s raining. Friends have been asking about my move to this part of the world. Life is great, or at least much better than it had been. Location may be important, but being debt-free is a bigger influence. 

My move was about 23 miles, but really much longer because driving off one island, to take a ferry, to drive down a neighboring peninsula can take hours. And yet, on a global scale, that’s not much of a move. I moved from one tourist town to another one. (Loving Living Leaving A Tourist Town) Both towns are small-ish relative to The Big City (of Seattle or Vancouver, take your pick). Both have touristy offerings for food, art, amenities, views, etc. Both have wealth inequality on open display, which is sometimes celebrated as quaint as people find creative ways to live by necessity. Smile! You get better tips and sell more art that way. 

One big difference is that Port Townsend is bigger. That means more restaurants, more festivals, more art, and a bit more anonymity (though evidently, I’m not being as anonymous as I expected. Gotta quit volunteering as much, I guess.)

One other big difference is that I now live within 1.5 hours of Hurricane Ridge. That’s not 1.5 hours of the entrance to the Park or the Visitor Center. 1.5 hours and I’m at over 5,000 feet elevation looking deep into panoramic wilderness. Turn around and see the Pacific Ocean down there, and on a clear day, see Canada. It is a special place. I’m already healthier because I like mountains. I like oceans and shores, too, but for me, mountains encourage me to hike, hike, hike – and eventually ski and snowshoe.

Today’s hike was typical. Magnificent, of course, but also a multi-cultural event. Hurricane Ridge is visited by more than locals. I no longer try to count the foreign languages. I am no longer surprised when someone visibly is trying to remember how to say Hello or ask a question. They visit from around the world to drive a well-paved yet squirrely 17-mile 35 mph road from sea level to one mile up. Drivers pay attention and leave the gawking to the passengers. The shoulders can be narrow and the drops can swallow buildings. And I get to visit in less time than some will spend watching a movie or a football game.

How frugal is that?

Port Townsend is an expensive tourist town with affordable housing issues, expensive food, long drives to do real world shopping, but its natural beauty is inexhaustible and costs less than tickets for almost anything. I’m old enough to get a Senior Pass. For less than $100, I can visit as much as I want in a year. 1.5 hours of driving does cost gas, and whatever food I pack usually costs more than eating at home, yet I’m spending less than many people will spend on dinner, and what I do is healthier physically and mentally.

Whidbey was similar, without the mountains except as a backdrop, but island do not lack for shorelines and wildlife. Coastal towns and mountain towns emphasize nature, which is naturally frugal. Add in my appreciation for enough rain to sustain the local life, and my attraction to Shasta-Juneau may make more sense. 

Frugality takes many forms. At the barest of necessities, it can make sense to move to some place strictly on the cost of necessities. Fortunately, now that I sold my home, I can afford to find a place that some consider expensive (because it is) but live a lifestyle that is much more affordable.

Many of my Whidbey friends may never have recognized that, while Whidbey is covered with natural wonders (Hey, that’s why I was able to produce a ten-book photo essay of its nature.) I was so busy trying to make enough money to pay my bills that I rarely managed to visit the bay in my neighborhood, hike the local trails, or recuperate in the various nature sanctuaries. The necessities of debt and the realities of employment (never sufficient) meant living in a lovely place that I could glimpse but not fully enjoy.

There’s more here than a Ridge that’s over there. The local bike trail will eventually reach 135 miles to the Pacific – and I just learned that the next extension will go about a hundred yards from my new old big tiny house (MyTinyExperiment.com). Not everything has to happen outside. There’s lots of dancing (including one that’s happening as I type this, but there will be more.) And it has the same diverse culture, including people who act as if diversity hasn’t been here as long as humans have been here. Go on a hike and watch the diversity walk by.

Port Townsend, Whidbey Island, Mt. Shasta, Southwest Canada, Southeast Alaska – they all have something I like, but my point is that folks that like deserts may find a desert is naturally frugal, or someone who likes history can live somewhere with lots of history, or someone who likes growing things can live somewhere fertile. Living a life based on personal preferences can be more frugal than many realize.

These last few years meant I worked so hard that my body suffered. It’s getting better now. Being debt-free helps a lot; so does being able to do simple enjoyable healthy things. Frugality is about appreciating and respecting life and its resources. That’s a nice place to be.

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Litttle Stuff

Posted on September 6, 2024 by Tom Trimbath

It was a little thing. The cavity was probably less than a millimeter per side. I’m glad I could pay for it to be filled. As usual, I’m in the midst of substantial projects that take months or years, and in some cases, tens of thousands of dollars. Gotta keep doing them. But can’t ignore the small things. The other day I was given a reminder that the smallest things can have enormous effects.

What do you do when sitting in the dentist’s chair? I ponder, then wince, then ponder and wonder, and wince, and wonder how it can take a half hour of effort and hundreds of dollars of expertise to patch a cubic millimeter of me. They did a fine job, but my jaw was sore for the rest of the day. Of course, that’s better than the eventual pain if I ignored it. That would cost time as I complained, more money to fix, and the recovery could’ve taken much longer.

Later that day, I was taking drugs. Legal drugs. You know, the ones the doctor prescribes. None of them were for that pain. The pain was temporary and manageable. (As I type, I’m waiting for ibuprofen to dull a familiar muscle spasm. I started the day with a good hike, three hours on Hurricane Ridge. My body is reminding me that exertion was expended. Temporary and manageable, but it makes it hard to sit and type.) A couple of the doctors’ drugs are tiny, about half the size of an aspirin. I weigh over 200 pounds. Somehow, the chemicals in those pills can survive my digestive system, wander through my body, and work their wonders. And as I recall, most pills are mostly filler. That’s concentrated power. 

By this evening (I’m typing in the late afternoon), my twitches will recede and I’ll be able to sit in front of The Big Computer (really just my newest laptop) and dive into editing the sequel to Firewatcher. Editing is a big job. I’m impressed with the professional editors. Editing is a task of finding nearly-infinite minutea. The text contains over 110,000 words. Let’s keep it simple. That’s over 100,000 opportunities to use the wrong word. The average letters per word is five, so that’s over half of a million letters to check. Don’t expect zero errors. A 1% error rate means 1,000 mistakes. A 0.1% error rate is still 100 errors. A book with 100 errors can be painful for some readers. They’ve probably already reacted to the typo I left in the title of this post. My apologies, but it made a point with me, and I’m trying to understand what that is. Lots of little things, and a mistaken word can turn a character into a villian or a hero or a farce. (I gotta decide on the name of that thing.)

A nailhead was sticking out of a piece of furniture. A bee stung me on my knee. Sunshine reflecting off a car’s rear window momentarily blinded me. A popcorn kernel split a tooth. A nail punctured a tire. We devote ourselves to big things (#MassiveUnderstatement as my friends obsess over football or politics or both), but the little things demand our attention; and we benefit from attending to them.

And then there’s the trite list of cuteness as a child see their first grasshopper, a butterfly flutters by, a piece of chocolate gets popped into a mouth, a song shows up at just the right time, a smile from a stranger truly does look bright. I’m remembering a day when someone said, “It is good to see you!” and they really meant it, including the exclamation point. (I thank for being here, by the way.)

And then came the reminder of little things that I wasn’t even aware of. Someone thanked me for something I said. I don’t even remember saying it. They told me that because I thanked them for something they said. They don’t remember saying it. I then told them a couple of stories where others have unexpectedly thanked me. Someone I barely knew came up to me after some meeting and thanked me for encouraging them to pursue their dream project. Evidently, most of the audience tuned them out, but they were encouraged simply because I paid attention to them, nodded appropriately, and probably did something else. No need for great exhortations. I simply paid attention to them. Another person thanked me because I listened. She was ignored, partly because her idea was unconventional, and possibly because they couldn’t understand why she’d be so passionate about such an unfashionable topic. She did all the work, but she made sure she thanked me for listening. She called me after Hollywood listened, funded, and filmed her documentary.

I see little things making a big difference regularly. Sure, this blog is about personal finance, and in personal finance, small decisions can have major effects, but the practice of paying attention anywhere can be valuable – even indirectly. 

OK. It’s time to polish and post, so I can make dinner, so I can dive back into the “nearly-infinite minutia” of editing my scifi novel. Now’s when I have to edit the aliens’ language, vocabulary, grammar, and cultural references. Ugh. I did this to myself. I know. Ugh. The alien (though only from the human perspective), Erle’, is a nice genderless lifeform, and wouldn’t complain too much if I’ve typed Earl instead, but it would be nice to get it right. It’s the little things, you know? Hmm. Maybe I can blame spellcheck.

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