C+ Budgeting (also, things we shouldn't say in church but want to)

This is Dave Ramsey. He wields giant scissors and likes to put his face on various products filled with good thoughts about being financially savvy.

Last year I dragged my friend Esther to a financial class at our church. If you are thinking, That is an incredibly nerdy and boring thing to do, you are somewhat correct. Let me explain. Esther has owned her own business. She is good with numbers, computers, equations- basically all the things that give me pause in my daily life. I was an English major. Dragging Esther to a financial class is actually a genius thing to do.

During the nine-week course, we started getting together to do our monthly budgets. These meetings consist of Esther carefully syncing her accounts with Mint and me blinking at my Excel spreadsheet, asking a lot of annoying questions. Esther, what exactly is an IRA? Esther, what's the deal with growth stock mutual funds? Esther, what kind of wine should I buy at Grocery Outlet? 

Over the last year we've added a few friends to the group, all hauling out our laptops once a month, eating brownies and drinking tea. In the fall, our little ragtag crew of good financial efforts will become an official community group at church, with a spot on the church website and possible onstage plug during a Sunday service. So this last week I hung out at Esther's house again to come up with a written description of our group. 

And then we needed a name.

Esther, I just can't think of anything more interesting than "Monthly Budgeting Meeting."

We started brainstorming. We needed something that encapsulated the group's casual tone and something to do with budgeting that didn't convey feelings of sudden onset narcolepsy. Interesting things happen when you have a 9:30 pm brainstorming session on a Monday evening. For example:

Rejected Budgeting Group Names

• The English Major's Guide to Finances
• Poor, But Not Broke
• Casual Joe's Guide to Financial Responsibility 
• Budgets R Us
• Budgets We Do
• The Poor Person's Guide to Budgeting 
• The Poor in Spirit 
• Inheriting the Earth 
• Let Them Eat Cake (And Do Budgeting)
• Intentional Budgeting (sounds like a disease) 

There were a lot of budgets and guides and poor and financial thrown around. And then, from the recesses of my tired, and slightly absurd mind, out slipped this gem: Broke Ass Budgeting.

Perfection. And, because I am secretly a 12-year-old boy who finds the word "ass" especially hilarious, I laughed until I cried. Then I imagined myself or Esther onstage, inviting people at church to Broke Ass Budgeting. I also imagine that this would become quite a popular community group. 

So that's the story of how Esther and I became the founding members of Broke Ass Budgeting. Unfortunately, for church website-related purposes, we will be calling our group Brownies and Budgeting. This is not nearly as fun as saying "ass" in church, but I suppose it gets the point across.

False Starts: Love Stories that Weren't

In romantic comedies, there's a meet cute around every corner. In real life, not so much.

If you grew up on a steady media diet of romantic comedies, have been single for any length of time, and possess a uterus, you've likely been guilty of a series of relationship False Starts. The romantic comedy "meet cute" seeps into brains, leading perfectly rational human beings to believe that potential romantic relationships lurk around every corner: at crowded parties, on airplanes, at the DMV (ok, probably not the DMV). Every seemingly serendipitous meeting is a possible beginning to a love story. 

"We both grabbed the same pair of gloves at Bloomingdale's." (Thank you, Serendipity)  

"He spilled his orange juice on me and we started talking." (Thank you, Notting Hill)

"I leaped into the street to save her from on oncoming dump truck." (Thank you, The Wedding Planner)

"Our dogs tangled us in their leashes and we fell into a pond together." (Thank you, 101 Dalmatians) 

Let me tell you what happens in real life: none of this nonsense. I've experienced my fair share of False Starts in my life, those love stories that didn't quite make it off the ground. Here are a few common cinematic scenarios and the ways in which they definitely weren't the beginning of my personal love story. 

False Starts: The Love Stories that Weren't

Scenario 1: The Charming Airplane Seatmate: When I fly, I sit next to the following people: kind grandmothers reading Nicholas Sparks books, women college professors deep into paper grading, Japanese businessmen, and former addicts with inspiring life stories. 

The summer before my senior year of college, fate breaks through and brings me a charming, attractive, male seatmate. We spend the flight from Seattle to Sacramento chatting about our impending graduations, writing, and life in general. After we deplane, he finds me in the crowd, asks where I'm headed next, and...that's it. We grab our bags off the carousel and disappear into the crowd, never to connect again.

Scenario 2: The Clumsy Meeting: Weeks after moving to a new town, I faint during a documentary about female genital mutilation (super romantic). When I come to, I am face to face with a dark-haired off-duty paramedic who is staring into my eyes and asking my name (apparently this is standard procedure, but it seemed significant at the time.) He takes me outside and nurses me back to health. Following this slightly embarrassing introduction, I see him from time to time and he asks if I've seen any documentaries lately. Another year passes, and he's married and moving across the country. It's bittersweet, but perhaps it's best that I don't have to say the words "female genital mutilation" to random strangers at weddings and baby showers.

Scenario 3: The "I keep running into you": For several weeks I go through the same line at Trader Joe’s. My boyishly disheveled blonde checker comments that I’ve been through his line at almost the exact time for at least two weeks. “I’ll see you next week at 8:37,” he says with a smile as I pack up my groceries. On the drive home I dream of our Trader Joe's themed wedding: organic mini quiches, a cake frosted with Cookie Butter, cheeky Fearless Flyer invitations. Alas, my schedule changes, his schedule changes, and I miss our 8:37 date too many weeks in a row. The most I've seen of him since is the back of his head in the produce section.

Scenario 4: The Laundromat Encounter: This was a disaster. Any romantic notions of Laundromats I held to previously were dashed to pieces after I was propositioned by a toothless vagrant at my local Laundromat last winter. He kept implying that he was "lonely and cold," and I've sworn off Laundromats ever since.

Scenario 5: The Foreign Country Connection (i.e. The Hot Local Fisherman): Here is an example of an actual conversation my friend Angie and I had with two Turkish men in Istanbul during college: 

Turkish Man #1: Hello, Americans! We want to practice our English! 

Angie: Hi. Um, I don't think we can talk right now. 

Turkish Man #2: We have bought you drinks. 

 Angie/Me: Oh. Thanks. Thank you. 

Long pause.

Turkish Man #1: We will go to club and dance. 

Me: Isn't it a little early for that? It's only 10:00 in the morning. 

Turkish Man #1: Yes. We will meet you later.

Angie: No, sorry, we can't do that. 

Longer pause. Two stray cats wander through the scene. 

Turkish Man #2: (Sudden declaration) There are many cats in Turkey! (Pause) Are there many cats in America?

At this point, an ancient Turkish woman ambles over with a baby carriage and an outstretched hand. As our Turkish pursuers hand over a few lira, I look into the carriage and notice that her "baby" is a bundle of blankets, newspapers, and a doll head. 

Me: (Whispering to Angie) That's a fake baby! 

Following the fake baby comment, we dissolve into poorly stifled laughter, our pursuers lose interest, and all plans of Istanbul nightlife and possible romance fall to the wayside. 

In other news, all of the local fisherman I've ever met in foreign countries were either 1) married or 2) anticipating a sex change operation.   

So it Goes  

Sometimes I feel like I live in a constant loop of unfinished Nora Ephron scripts. I've got some meet cutes, (some cuter than others), but those stories have been ripped from the typewriter, crumpled and thrown into a wire wastepaper basket labeled "False Starts." My life doesn't fit into 122 minutes of snappy dialogue and serendipitous circumstances. It's a little more complicated, there are more crazy characters than a Muppet movie, and, let's be honest, it's C+. And I imagine a C+ meeting may go something like this:


"I couldn't help but notice you staring at me from across this crowded room."


"I'm flattered, but that's just my lazy eye. I'm seeing a doctor about it."


And then someone will spill something or get on a plane or take a detour to a non-sketchy Laundromat, and the rest will be perfectly imperfect C+ history.

Welcome, and Some Answers to Questions No One Asked

Welcome to The C+ Life! We're all friends here. (Unless you're too pretentious and/or awesome. Then you can leave.)

What is this? 

Great question! This is a blog. More specifically, this is a blog about not being awesome, settling for slightly above average and being totally fine with the idea. This is also a blog about my life, which fits nicely within these parameters.

Where did The C+ Life come from? 

The concept for this blog was hatched in my apartment kitchen in the fall of 2011, with my friends Christy and Mandy. We were discussing life, work, and the sinking feeling that we may never live up to the prevalent and well-meaning "you-can-do-anything-you-put-your-mind-to"-declarations of our childhood. We decided we were done stressing ourselves out, done trying to be awesome at everything. We decided to settle for being C+, at best. We became the founding members of The C+ Club, and they graciously allowed me to use the concept for this blog. 

And you are. . . ?

I'm Megan. I'm a twenty-something living in Central Oregon. I'm a school librarian by day and terribly undisciplined writer by night. (We'll get this out of the way: Yes, I know the Dewey Decimal System. No, I don't own any cats. Yes, I do conduct storytimes. No, I won't loan you any of my shapeless sweaters or calf-grazing skirts). 

I don't own a fancy camera or an iPhone. I live in a 75-year-old apartment without the Internet (or a dishwasher, washing machine, cable TV, or properly weather-sealed windows), and write this blog at my local library, workplace, or some other internet-providing establishment, preferably one where I can get a pint of Nitro Stout or a cafe au lait. 

I don't think my life is terrible, but it certainly won't be showing up on the lifestyle pages anytime soon. I am not the valedictorian or anything "of the year," but I'm fine with it. In fact, it's kind of fun to lower the bar, aim low and be secretly pleased when things don't turn out perfectly. That's The C+ Life, and I hope you come back soon! 

- Megan